Only in Thailand

Only In Thailand, can you be given the keys to the shop only hours after meeting the owner. Only in Thailand does a posh restaurant play videos of animal operations on the big screen while you try to eat. Only in Thailand is the theme for today's update!

"You unlock this door with the key of imagination. Beyond it is another dimension — a dimension of sound, a dimension of sight, a dimension of mind. You're moving into a land of both shadow and substance, of things and ideas. You've just crossed over into the Twilight Zone." Or in this case, Thailand.

We have mentioned many times that the roads of Thailand present a significant danger, although those species with eyes on all facets of their head may well find the danger to be insignificant, but for the average human basic, the roads can be lethal. The primary danger is the white minibus driven at great speed by the pick up drivers who simply wish to transport as many tourists as possible in a limited space of time. These maniacs will tail gate you so closely, that you can smell gulped down sick of the passenger in the back seat. If you ride a bike, be it a huge muscle bike or a tiny scooter, these guys will see you as merely an obstruction over which they can drive. You will be pushed out of the road, almost run down and when you lose patience and stop, they have no idea of what your problem is! The white minibus will also over take long lines of traffic and suddenly cut in when the gap between them and on coming traffic is no longer larger enough to contain atomic oxygen. Over taking will often be saved for blind corners, blind crests of hills and gaps into on coming bikes.

Thai massage is wonderful, imagine gentle music playing, cool wind licking over your naked skin as a well trained medical professional rubs delicate soothing ointments into your stretched and aching muscles. Now imagine what we have seen here in the twilight zone of the tourist massage trade. Overly loud dance music blaring out as scantily dressed overly made women wearing too much jewellery attempt to extract hard currency from your purse by offering you the client of what ever age, gender or planetary origin a menu of playful, painful, or simply perverted practices. It saddens me greatly that these well trained and well practised medical professionals are treated as something else by tourists. Let me put it to you this way, would you ask the nurse who has just done your blood test for a quick hand job? The shame of it is that many of these women will now initiate the conversation because this is what they think is expected of them. Carol and I have both recently encountered this behaviour while seeking relief from pain during our stay in Phuket. I have had many massages now and can say with certainty that a medical massage is in no way erotic because it really, really hurts, while a relaxing massage is a waste of my time because it just puts me to sleep but does not stop my pain. At no point do I desire any fiddling in my pants!

Imagine if you will the end of a journey where at your destination you are suddenly asked to mind the shop you have just walked into. What would you do? This is the situation I found myself in upon my arrival here in Thailand recently as we discovered a rather fabulous bike shop here on Koh Samui. The owner of Keen Big Bikes is a lovely gentleman named Keen, in his early thirties, energetic and enthusiastic, what he does not know about the Honda Super Blackbird you can write in full on the back of a stamp. I popped over to say hello a couple of days ago and to see if he had seen Carol and Diarmuid who had gone out on a mission to collect a motorbike. He looked at his watch and said he would not expect them back just yet and I could wait if I wanted. He was fixing a Honda CBR and chatting away when suddenly he stood up and asked if I could watch the shop for a while and then he jumped on his bike and left. In no way could he know that I was trustworthy, but he gave me the chance to prove that I was. So I sat and watched his shop for half an hour until Carol arrived with the bike. twenty minutes later Keen arrived back and was all smiles. I guess that I passed the trustworthy test.

There are so many stories we can tell of only in Thailand, but some we dare not go into. Only Thailand will you be told that Prison is more human than in Britain and that British law is barbaric. Only in Thailand will the local cops drink your coffee and then nick you for riding with out a helmet while every one around you rides past not wearing a helmet. Only in Thailand will the Police give you the thumbs up for speeding, Only in Thailand can you score from the Rozzers! This truly is the Twilight Zone!

Only in Thailand can you find yourself in a posh restaurant, seated on the terrace at a table that has starched orange linen table cloths and napkins that are so well folded that they can be used as structural supports for the collapsing kitchen! Only in Thailand can you be told that the burger you wish to order for dinner that night is only available on the breakfast menu until eleven in the morning! Only in Thailand can you enter a fantastic custom shoe shop that has plush carpets and teak shelves showing the hand crafted motorcycle boots that cost tens of thousands of Baht and yet find behind the small door in the back, the bare concrete walled, dusty floor bed of the shop owner and his wife!

I cannot explain to you the incongruence of how things look and how things are here. The shop this morning had the door wide open, the sign in the window said in large friendly letters that it was open and yet the shop owner was in the shower because she did not expect any customers at that time! Imagine if you will a family who dwell in a hovel that is made from broken pallets and ripped hard board, they have no running water, they sleep on boxes covered in old blankets and yet they have a flat screen TV with satellite dish and a custom 4x4 outside! The balance of what matters and what does not is strangely mixed here. The working week here has no weekends, the Thai people are so driven by money and status that they work all hours and will buy the most luxury items rather than buy the essentials.

Finally imagine if you will a business that is clearly owned by a non Thai and in which non Thai practices are the norm. We encountered such a business only this evening, a restaurant that is clean, smart and modern. The food is cooked in plain view of the patrons and all looks normal, but remember this is Thailand, expect the Twilight Zone at any second and sure enough gently at first the weirdness starts to filter through. As our food arrives it is apparent that what was asked for and what was delivered do not compare favourably, so it is sent back and a replacement is requested, the misunderstanding of language is a common thing through out the galaxy and what is needed is a Babel Fish, but sadly since they do not naturally occur on Earth, we shall persevere. When the correct meal is delivered normality is almost present, but it was then that we noticed the television on the restaurant, showing a program about animal behaviour. Namely the consuming of other animals in horrific ways and with catastrophic results! So as we enjoyed our charming meal out we were presented with Dog operations, Snakes swallowing alligators that split them in half, Pelicans swallowing whole pigeons on city streets and frogs being torn apart alive by strange hill-billies who eat the resultant mess. 

Only in Thailand, not even the Restaurant at the end of the Universe is this bizarre!

Our last day of adventures on Ko Samui

Monday 25th November

We started today early after another good nights sleep in our comfortable bed, after a swift shower we wandered downstairs to the the bar to meet one of Carol's friends that she made last time she was here. Adam of Rainbow Diving based in Ko Samui joined us for breakfast and a catch up with Carol. 

Following breakfast we wandered down the street looking for bikes to hire and found a place prepared to offer us a couple of higher CC engined bikes, but when they demanded that we leave our passports we chose to look else where and ended up with two red scooters. Our plan for the day was to explore Ko Samui and travel the circular road that goes all around the island. A simple enough plan you would think, but this is Curious Adventures, when has anything we have undertaken been simple?

Being out on two wheels again was a blast of freedom in paradise and quickly settled into the winding roads experience that riding around the island has. However there were a few too many loons out there and some of the other drivers were taking things a little too close for comfort to near death experiences for us. We stopped for tea at Smiles resort which although very pretty and with immaculate furnishings and staff was a little too plastic for my tastes, but Carol assures me that the place is first rate. The iced thick shake was fantastic and more than made up for the sight of many obese semi naked German tourists asleep on the small beach! 

Our next stop was the elegant granite slabs of the Grand Mother and Grand Father rocks, these two massive structures carved into the landscape by nature resembled the intimate parts of both a man and a woman laying together. Carol was gob-smacked that my usual stream of filth was restrained as I complained that she had simply brought me to a site that was in effect just a big rude joke! It was though utterly beautiful and in truth I could have spent many happy hours there just playing on the rock. Thailand has so many undiscovered climbs on those elegant cliffs spread across the country.

Carol sat on the Grandmothers Clitoral hood!

Back on the roads and things were starting to get more hectic with traffic getting heavier and more aggressive. I had a small taxi van attempting to drive onto my pillion seat and when he eventually overtook me, he cut back in so sharply I nearly hit his back bumper. Carol seeing this pulled over and we took five minutes out to calm down before heading over to the water falls.

The waterfall park is very tourist orientated and as such it felt a bit false. As we wandered up the path towards to restaurant we followed in the slow ponderous footsteps on elephants carrying  tourists in specially rigged seats. Seeing such magnificent animals up close was wonderful, but our feelings were tainted by the knowledge that these animals are tied to trees and made to do what the owners want. On the flip side of the coin though, these animals were once used as mining animals to haul heavy carts full of rock and ore. Once the mines closed the owners were left with animals that they could not care for and with the huge cost of feed the animals faced starvation. With them being captive animals they would struggle to rehabilitate back into the wild and their future was bleak. It is a complex issue and although we can see both sides of the argument, we still had feelings of empathy for the animals, even though it was clear that the owners loved them. 

At the restaurant we witnessed another pair of animals that had been removed from nature, namely two otters that were begging for food from the kitchen staff. There are some things in Thailand that are incongruous, the budhist way that all life is sacred and then the destruction of the natural habitat for cash crops. When poverty and the environment clash, there is only one outcome and it is not good for either side.

After our drinks and with me having forgotten my pain medication, I was effectively out of action, yet we wanted to see the waterfalls, so for a small fee we were able to jump onto (yes on top of the roof!) one of the ubiquitous Toyota Hi-Lux 4x4 trusks they have here and take a slow gentle ride up the hill. The driver though had other ideas and we were propelled at horrific speed across country, being bounced and battered as we went. Our feeble cries and bangings on the windscreen went unnoticed and with a final jolt we landed at the first waterfall! Painfully we climbed down from the truck, limping, dragging our mangled bodies as we walked up to what we thought was the falls. Not so, in typical Thai fashion we had simply been driven to a set of steps that climbed the cliff up to the falls.

The view from the truck, just before he went mad in the cab!

The falls were breathtakingly beautiful, again had been ruined by tourism. The wooden constructed pathway above the rushing waters was almost derelict and  with many people trying to get across them, the erosion to the path way was starting to show. As we took in the view, a pair of unruly British tourists decided to jump into the pools, so cue two grown men stripping down to their pants and leaping into the water. It made a lovely view! Back at the car park where our truck was waiting we declined to get back in, which caused a large amount of distress to the Thai driver and he was deeply sorry for the pain he had caused us. He stated that so many people like a adrenalin fuelled ride, that he had become accustomed to driving like that. However we remained unconvinced and so took another truck back down to the main park. Our visit to the waterfalls felt decidedly sour and with the rain now falling in vast sheets of water, we headed back home and got thoroughly soaked. 

Riding in the rain in Thailand is wonderful, the warm rain water soaked us to the skin, but the equally warm wind blew through our wet clothes taking away so much heat that we actually felt strangely comfortable. So much so that I could have kept riding for ever, but the pain in my shoulder was now so bad that I craved only pills and my bed. We returned the bikes and wandered up to our room.

After a warm shower to wash away the road dirt, we decided that the battered parts of our body needed some soothing, so we walked around the corner to Pin Tong massage for an hour of extreme comfort. She massaged away my aches and pains and when she touched my shoulder, the pain made me gasp. She studied it for a moment and then with hands of magic began to work around the area, kneading away what felt like bubbles in my flesh. The pain was exquisite, but as she worked, something in my arm clicked and my hand which always feels puffy and painful suddenly cleared and I even had full feeling in my fingers briefly. It seems like something is pressing on the nerves and as she massaged it away, the release in my arm and hand was divine. However as soon as she stopped, full pain resumed. Puzzled by this she worked my hand and arm and after our hour I had a fully working hand and no pain which lasted for close to half an hour. Yet as we sat in the bar, the pain slowly crept back into my system and as I write this, it is back to the usual high levels. For that time though, I felt energised and supple. Thai massage is wonderful, even if it does feel like a work out.

Facing our final night, we sat with out friends in the bar, enjoyed our dinner and finally said good night as we went to bed. Our time on Ko Samui although short has been greatly enjoyable, I think that both of us are sad to be leaving.  

What a day

You may well have noticed that of late, Curious Adventures have been more curious and less adventurous and there is a reason for this, Jayne (yes OK, me) has a knackered shoulder! A knackered shoulder that makes riding her bike rather hard and painful work, after all think about how your bike steers. With counter steering, as a rider you push the side away from you where you want to go, hence the name of counter steering. Well, for those of you not familiar with the technique, please do not try steering the opposite way you want to go, it will result in you crashing painfully into what ever is not where you want to go! Counter steering is done by placing a gentle pressure upon the bar, not actually turning the bars, it works by effectively changing the push on the front wheel and banking the bike over. Now I am sure that there people reading this who have a far better understanding of the physics of this technique than I do and I would love to read how it really works, but for now that will do. Why did I mention it? Well because I just can’t do it at the moment.

So with a knackered shoulder I have been forced to endure all manner of helpful medical staff from our beloved NHS prodding, poking, pulling or pushing my bits and pieces. Most recently I have endured needles shoved deep into my muscle tissue, intense massage of my neck and exercises involving rubber bands. None of this has worked. The exercises have made it worse, the massage made it worse and as for the needles, do you really need to ask? Oh alright, yes they made it worse. All of which brings me to MRI scans. Magnetic Resonance Imagery is a fantastic science where using a combination of fantastic physics, breath taking biology and a man with a bad hair cut, the medics can have a look about inside your body with out having to slice into it like a crusty loaf!

The down side though is that an MRI scanner costs an absolute fortune and each scan costs a smaller but still significant fortune. So they are not handed out to just anyone and today I had an appointment to see if I justified having a scan. Well, that is supposed to be what today was about.

So Carol and I set off this afternoon at close to half past twelve, giving us an hour to make a journey that should only take twenty minutes. Our first stop was for fuel because my bike was showing a worrying fuel light having driven a pitiful 87 miles since my last fuel stop. With the pump droning away I filled both my and Carol’s bikes and then went and paid up the ridiculous sum wanted for a thimble full of go-go juice. Back outside, when we switched on Noreen  and tried to start the engine, it resolutely sat there refusing to burn the thimble full of petrol we had just dripped into it. We tried again and nothing happened. So we kept on trying, Carol wiggled wires and pushed and pulled switches and buttons, but still nothing. Time was counting down, forty minutes to the appointment.

We looked at each other, Noreen was going no where, Carol shook her head angrily and had a gentle word in the bikes ear. Now let’s be honest here, when Carol has a gentle word in your ear, it is wise that you listen. The bike did just that and with another push of the button, it roared into life, with just a couple of sets of traffic lights and couple of roundabouts to get through before hitting the motorway. That was until we discovered that the A370 was running at speeds only seen by your average snail! We finally got to the motorway, twenty minutes until my appointment. We raced off down the slip way and joined the busy traffic and began to make progress towards Clevedon, half way there, Noreen started to do odd things. 

Her rear light started to flash, but not in a way that is easy to explain. The rear light of the ZRX has two bulbs and they started to flash alternately, one side and then the other. The light then flicked off and relights. It flashes some more and then flashes off again. As we approached the Clevedon exit it became apparent that Noreen also had another problem, her rear tyre had decided to let all of it’s air out. We rolled to the top of the slip way, turned on to the road into the town and headed down to the roundabout, where we discovered that the tyre had totally deflated. Unfortunately, the car behind us was not completely understanding of our predicament and hooted angrily. With no real choice, we rode carefully around the roundabout, Noreen also decided that at that moment it was a perfect time to run on only three cylinders! Ten minutes until my appointment.

Fortunately there is a Shell garage just around the corner from where we pulled over, which is why we made our way there, only to discover that it had closed and was being renovated! The workmen there guided us away to another garage, but we just did not have time. So we limped Noreen, running on three cylinders and a flat tyre to the hospital. Five minutes until my appointment! We arrived, parked up and ran like buggery to get there on time and made it to reception at twenty nine minutes and thirty seconds past the hour.

The medical stuff was dealt with I walked out of the room, tears in my eyes, an intense burning pain in my shoulder and a worried Carol on my arm. Back in the car park, Noreen was sat on a flat tyre. We rolled it down the hill and out of the car park and phoned the RAC. Following a  quick chat with the call centre and we settled down for an afternoon of waiting on the pavement. Carol bought a local newspaper that took us less than ten minutes to read and we sat there, bored. Finally after an hour and twenty minutes we had a phone call from a manger at the RAC call centre who apologised for the long wait that we had enjoyed, but promised faithfully that a truck would be with us as soon as possible.

Another forty minutes passed, Carol and I considered learning to juggle to pass the time, but we were saved from this torture by Martyn, the truck driver, who phoned to ask where we were. It was great news, our Knight in orange overalls was coming, but coming from Gloucester, he had a journey time of another forty minutes. Carol and I sat there, bored, we even considered taking up knitting! Finally though, he arrived and we were able to load Noreen onto the back of the fabulous RAC truck. Martyn himself was a jolly chap and chatted all of the way home, Carol rode Sylvie back home and got the garage ready to receive a poorly Noreen. Jayne got to ride in another fabulous truck and finally at nearly seven in the evening, exhausted, Carol and I walked through our front door and sat down. It had been another curious adventure. 

Show me the way to go home, I'm tired and I want to go to bed!

I want my bike back!

No bike looks good on the back of a truck.

The urge to ride her home like that was so hard to ignore.

A family day out

Oh yes, but how do you have a family day out if you are a Biker family?

A family of bikers

Well, you jump on your bikes and go for a ride. Sadly ever since Alex took delivery of his 2005 Yamaha DT50 as his first ever bike, it has had problem after problem and has infuriatingly refused to start! So before he gave up completely and threw the bike in the sea, he gave it one last chance, with Carol and her fabulous tool box.

We ordered some new bits and waited patiently for them to arrive. Luckily for us E-Bay proved to be a worth while place to shop, until the company involved told us that the part we had ordered and paid for was not one that they even had in stock, despite them advertising it! So after a few cross e-mails, they special ordered one and shipped it out.

Carol fitted it and we kicked the bike over, at long last, it fired in to life and sat there purring away, like a tiger with a head ache! Alex was overjoyed and arrived in time to put it back together with a little help from Carol and I. Nothing like the irritating mechanical inefficiency of a machine to bond a family unit!

Alex then jumped on his bike and took it for a spin around the block, at first he was a little nervous, having learned the hard way that bikes that break down mid corner tend to fall over! However, after a couple of laps of the street, he was looking as cool as a polar bear on a particularly cold Tuesday!

Alex on Yoshi, the Yamaha DT50

So it was then off down to Sand Bay, the test track of the masses. However once safely there we were accosted by the Rozzers! They pulled over to chat about bikes and wish Alex a safe and fun riding career, however Jayne joking that she did not have a license caused a gleeful Policeman to rub his hands together and start looking forwards to impounding her bike and riding it back to the cop shop!

Riding back home in the dark with Alex was one of the proudest moments in Carol’s life and Jayne was sat at the back of the queue smiling like a loony on Largactyl! Alex however was riding like a road god and his exhaust was spitting out orange sparks as the engine raced! The sound and smell of burning two stroke oil and the little clouds of exhaust smoke made riding at the back a similar experience to riding across Dartmoor when the beast is about on a foggy night!

Bikes and Rozzers

So what do we do now, we chat to the Rozzers!

 So, this post is about Alex, well done to him for starting out on his biking career. Alex is joining the next generation of bikers and we need them to keep the memories of what biking is about alive and also create new ones in the future. Keep on Biking. 

Alex on Carol's bike

MAG protest ride against bike fiddling laws...

Ban this sick filth!

Mag protest Ride, 25^th September 2011. Did you go? Did you know why it took place? Do you care?

We did this because we were worried about what Legislation is going to hit us from the non elected bodies that advise the EU law makers. Now this is not the place to make a political statement, this blog is about fun and adventures, but even we get political occasionally.

So it was planned and we spread the word and we well buggered about in pouring rain trying to stay dry. But most of all, we had a damn good laugh while making a powerful statement. We as Bikers, yes bikers, leather clad, tattooed, petrol snorting, fag smoking, café racer building, chop making and streetfighter riding bikers are not prepared to take it up the arse any more.

Is that a Type Approved Air Filter Madam?

Sunday the 25^th September, I got up early which was not hard because I was at work and about ready to come home. Usually after a night at work I crave only my bed for it’s comforts and the warmth of my wife, but not today. Today I dashed home and dumped the work kit before heading out into the rain to collect a good friend of Curious Adventures, Carley, also known as Fazer girl. Carley has just over come huge personal difficulties and life threatening illness and has fallen in love with bikes. Seems pretty normal to us and it is always cool to have a biker mate to hold your pint while you drill out a stuck exhaust stud.

Sadly Sylvie is still away at the motorbike hospital and it seems more and more likely that she is about to be written off, so today’s adventure for Carley and I was on a bike designed for elderly gentlefolk, the classic lines of the do it all Honda. A bike so bland it makes knitting and embroidery appear to be dangerous pursuits. Luckily Carley was not too unkind about the Chronically boring 600 and just about managed to climb aboard. The ride back to Curious Adventures HQ was so dull both of us nearly fell asleep on that Honda.

Carol and Alex were almost ready, computers were packed and barn owls fussed. Pulling on the one piece water proof suit Alex declared that he felt like he had gained years if not decades in age and kept stating that he felt like an old man! I was sure that there would be plenty for him at Gordano.

So two bikes, four riders, all bikers. Carol and Alex were to ride Noreen the ZRX1100, leaving Carley and I with the Chronically Boring 600. So off to the motorway we headed and with in minutes car drivers started doing what they do best in the rain. Drive like bigger pillocks than normal! While we are on the subject, car drivers this question is for you. Why, when it rains, do you insist on driving like you are a gorilla that has just had a frontal lobotomy? You are inside your nice dry steel boxes all tucked up nice and safe, yet you still manage to drive your two tonne death machine like a dangerous road weapon. Use you damn mirrors, give motorcyclists braking space and try to drive with a bit of consideration. To the gentleman who changed lanes with out even so much as a sideways glance and in doing so nearly took out the two beings I care for most in the whole world, I say this. Stay off the road you dangerous old fool. Had you hurt or killed those two people, you would have been deeply sorry. Luckily for you, you got away with a pushed back mirror. Eye for an eye remember.

So we hit the motorway and headed to Gordano, it was a gentle ride, a little bit of speed never hurt anyone did it? However, being undertaken by a tit in a road going 4x4, pulling a caravan at over eighty was taking the biscuit. You are the sort of man who deserves to have a Police Man following you and then taking away your license. Swerving from your lane to mine because you were speeding, while towing a caravan in bad weather makes you an idiot. It is not often that we here at Curious Adventures use such harsh language in text, but you deserved it, for nearly hitting my friend and I, it is justified. Let’s just hope that you did not hit anyone else that day.

Arriving at Gordano we were greeted by a beautiful sight, half of the car park was filled by bikers, of every conceivable type. Fluro vest wearing super distance riders, chop riding old schoolers, sports bike riding super heros, hack bike riding couriers, patch club members and us. Even the Harley riders turned out despite the rain, ever seen a rain soaked Harley? I have now and they are still pretty.

Unfortunately for me, the Chronically Boring had picked up a bolt and which pierced her tyre and slowly let the air escape. A quick discussion and the thought of a RAC truck home with a lovely chap just did not appeal. So from the hidden depths of friendship appeared a bottle of Tyre weld and this got us home. I do not know how, to me it looked like soap foam, the stuff you would use to wash the sofa (especially if you have a pet Barn Owl!) or the carpet, yet it blocked the hole with white foam and held the air tightly enough to make it ridable.

With seconds to spare, I inflated the tyre and found Wayne waiting with Carol, Alex and Carley. With in seconds, we were off. It felt like well over a thousand bikers surged forwards as one and the ride was begun. Carley and I sat upon the Old persons bike, Carol and Alex on Noreen and Wayne riding his old work horse Fazer. It was time to make a statement. That statement was big bold and took place all over the country and it was this. Do not mess with our lifestyle!

Now I know that some people have discussed the mass protest ride and stated that it achieved nothing except for slowing down other road users and annoying car drivers. Well, I have a counter to this, in the fight fir civil rights, some people are going to be upset. After all, let’s look at some of the significant figures in history. Emmeline Pankhurst (1858 – 1928), a women that we adore to this day caused a significant amount of upset. If you check out the joy that is Wikipedia, it has this to say about her.

“She was widely criticized for her militant tactics, and historians disagree about their effectiveness, but her work is recognized as a crucial element in achieving women's suffrage in Britain.”

(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emmeline_Pankhurst)

Given the fun things she got up to, a few thousand Motorcyclists taking up a couple of lanes on the motorway is hardly that big a thing. Remember though, this was about civil rights, your right to modify your bike with parts that may not meet the strict rules of EU law. We all want safe bikes and to be safe on the road, but do we want the strict anti modification laws telling us which air filter we can use and what bits we can bolt on to where? I don’t think so. My bike is unique, it may look like many others, but it is mine and I will do with it what ever I want.

So we headed onto the Motorway, our statement big and bold as brass. Keep your hands off of our bikes. The rain fell and the traffic slowed. Cars suddenly took on formula one tactics, weaving in and out of the bikes like action movie stars. This was despite the fact that we had left the outside lane clear. Then came the git in the Gold coloured Range Rover, pushing his way through the bikes and forcing me into the middle lane. He wound down his window and began to shout abusively at me. He was disgusted that we were doing what we did. It hardly seemed fair to argue back while trying to ride in a pack with others on a motorway. Instead as he attempted to push onto my lane, forcing me back slightly, I just opened up the throttle and pulled forwards. Mr Range Rover had to stay in his own lane. Maybe if he had indicated I could have moved out of the way, but he was using his large truck as a weapon and once he came close enough I was able to reach into his vehicle and rifle through his glove box, help myself to a werthers and switch his radio station. He was very cross and he promptly sped up and tried to bully the bikes in front of him.

Our next incident came from an orange people carrier, one of those vans that are littered with seats so the comically inbred can carry their sisters and all of their children in one big car. Mr Inbred sat on my wheel, luckily Carley was in the way so he could not take up the pillion seat, but he was close. Then with no indication he snapped into the clear outside lane and then darted back in front of me, causing me to brake hard and sound my horn. Another stupid Car driver thinking that they can bully a biker out of the way. I will be eternally thankful for the chap riding the yellow GSXR Streetfighter who shot up behind me and proceeded to bang on the window of Mr Inbred. Mr Inbred then backed off from riding on the rear tyre of the bike in front of him.

After that excitement, it just chilled out. One car driver chose to leave the motorway by driving down the hard shoulder for half a mile before cutting up a queue of bikers by the exit. Mr 4x4 gave it a good shot of doing the same too and Mr Inbred managed to slip away with out endangering anyone else. We left the M4 and turned onto the M32, heading for Bristol. The last few miles of calm before the chaos that is Bristol, scary when you ride a bike. The procession slowed and more cars joined the queue to leave or enter the motorway. Finally we hit the end of the motorway and rolled to a stop at the traffic lights. Here everyone dispersed and with in minutes, no one could tell that Bristol had just been besieged by bikers with a political agenda.

So, who do we have to thank for this protest ride? Firstly, the EU. With out them none of this would have been needed. Now I usually love Europe, especially having travelled around a lot of it and been to many of it’s beautiful countries, but suggesting that I stop fiddling with my bike was a step too damn far. This leads us to MAG, the Motorcycle Action Group, a huge massive thank you to them for organising and designing the idea. With out them, many things would just go with out comment that would other wise affect our hobby. So thanks MAG and keep up the good work. Also a big lot of thanks to the riders who rode with us, you made a cold and wet day a huge amount of fun and made sure that every one had a good day.

We're not going to take it -

A Curious Adventure to the Bulldog Bash

Yeah, we went to the Bulldog Bash. We loaded our bikes up, we rode to Stratford Upon Avon and we camped for three days in a field of bikers. Well field does not even come close, it was a town made up of Bikers, fifty thousand Bikers. That is more people than live and work in some towns. We camped in a field that was populated by bikers, organised by Bikers and Policed by Bikers. In some respects what happens here is a new state and the UK is left at the front gate, in there you are under Biker Law and some times you can feel it.

Loaded up and ready to go.

The twenty fifth Bulldog Bash was a fantastic event, as a complete virgin of the event I was a little apprehensive of what to expect. I had heard stories of who it was organised by and having read a little into it, I was just a bit worried when we set off. Our bikes were loaded with tents, bedding, stoves and one plastic kitchen sink. My panniers were full to literally bursting point (I am still to have that seam fixed!) and everything we could squeeze in was packed in water proof bags!

My MP3 player was playing some very nice chilled out Black Metal as we headed onto the Motorway and we made our way through heavy traffic. Sadly the other carriageway was blocked due to a nasty accident and as we drew level with it, emergency crews were helping people from crumpled vehicles. Having heard the stories of Carol’s late father, himself a Paramedic and Ambulance man, I wished all of those hurt a fast and painless recovery, but doubted that it would be the case for all of them.

Leaving the Motorway and turning onto the A46 was a time to relax, the road here is lovely and riding a fully loaded bike was a pure joy. Carol was leading the way still and we were making easy progress. The excitement was starting build, my first Bulldog Bash. Butterflies flapped in my tummy with excited apprehension. 

Seemed like a nice place to stop!

Getting there is an adventure, after some brief stops for a rest and a slight deviation we approached the main gate, from here things were to get very interesting. The first sight of the event is a broken old aeroplane on the approach to the site; a gravel road leads to the main gate and series of scary looking, but very polite bikers who issued us with our bright orange wrist bands. From here on in, we were under a new kind of freedom, I could feel it in the air and on my skin.

Carol and I bought a new tent for this trip, a Vango Orchy 400, a tent big enough to sleep a football team. Well OK, maybe that is an exaggeration. We chose the tent especially because it is big enough to fix a motorbike in the porch. Technically, we could fit both motorbikes and both of us with all of our gear in our tent. It is for this reason that we chose it, after all who wants to be sat on a rainy campsite trying to fix a broken down bike while getting cold, wet and covered in mud? Not us.

Home sweet home!

Our tent did not go with out comment, but for us it was perfect. Once pitched, out came our air bed which was inflated thanks to Sylvie’s battery. With home made and the furniture set out, we went exploring, orange wrist bands giving us freedom of the town. Some of what I saw appalled me, some of what I saw amazed me and some of what I saw was more fun than anything I have done before.

There was one aspect of the Bulldog that I found very difficult to deal with and technically it was nothing to do with the event. One of the stores who shall remain nameless had several flags flying above its tent, flags of a seriously dubious nature baring Swastikas and the double lightening strike lettering of the SS. As a member of Amnesty International, as a free thinking human being and as firm anti fascist believer, I found these flags to be very offensive to my very heart and soul. The stall itself was selling BB Guns, knives, cross bows, catapults and seriously dodgy looking porn. Maybe it was innocent, but it made me feel very uncomfortable being on a site with company that was flying eight large and different Nazi flags.

On a more positive note, there were many things that amazed me, the biggest if which was the numbers of friendly, happy people. With a campsite the size of a town, I expected some disturbances and yet we only got disturbed by the sound of the drag strip opening at Nine in the morning! I slept better at the Bulldog, in our double sleeping bag, on our soft airbed than I do at home. I don’t think that anyone said an unkind word to us at any point of the weekend. Many towns have far worse behaviour on a Friday night that I saw at the whole of the Bulldog Bash. It is interesting to reflect on why that was and at one point while stood in the early hours of the morning, outside a toilet block waiting for Carol to come out, I realised that I felt safer stood there among all of those strangers than I did in my home town on a Saturday afternoon. Everywhere I looked were big burly and friendly bikers, who were having fun, enjoying a relaxed weekend and just keeping themselves to themselves. Our towns could learn a thing or two.

The Biker Town at night, peaceful and calm.

My introduction to the drag strip was frankly brilliant. As I sat there bike after bike roared up that strip recording speeds and times that just got better and better. The track glistened like wet leather in the hot sunshine, perfect Tarmac, smooth and dark and needle straight. What made my day was watching a rider on a bike that had a wire basket on the back blast up that track, front wheel arcing through the air with the engine screaming. Eleven seconds from start to the gate and not once did that rider lose control of that bike. The dark blue Suzuki SV650S with the loud can that recorded time after time after time up the track and just kept going gave me the seed of an idea, maybe one day I could blast my precious Sylvie up that track too? Carol and I talked about her sending Noreen down the track, but we chose against it in the end preferring to sit and watch as race after race took place. Yet as I sat there on the top row of the stands, looking down through the rickety structure, stomach slightly tense due to my fear of heights, I could not help but smile as the smell of burned rubber and exhaust gasses passed by me on the breeze.

It is pretty high up there!

 Then came the serious stuff, the bikes with huge engines, burning special fuel, spinning huge rear tyres that sat in long extended frames. A sense of urgency appeared on the track for the first time as these bikes sat there rumbling like old diesel trucks, turbos occasionally blowing off unwanted pressure. Burnouts sent plumes of smoke up into the air, the smell like exotic perfume to my gentle virgin nose. Then came the noise as each bike sprinted like shooting stars along that quarter mile straight line of perfect black. Something in my heart went click and I knew that I had found something very, very special. Those bikes, the incredibly determined riders upon them hit speeds I can only dream of on my precious SV. I saw the first bike blast through the gate in a fraction over nine seconds. Then came one that scored an eight second run.

Now that is a bike for fun only!

The jet car, Fire Force, deserves a special mention here. Nothing can prepare you for that thing. Having seen that thing run I can rest easy knowing that out there some where is a man called Martin who is an absolute speed demon. Starting the engine, a former Pratt and Whitney Helicopter engine, takes a special set of kit that is held in a van. The engine starts with a whine that can be heard all over the site, then a blast as fuel in injected, the engine speed picks up, the whine increased in pitch and then another blast of more fuel. The wall behind the car was visibly shaking as the thrust from that engine blasted into it. It takes about fifteen minutes to get the car ready, they play with the smoke by dumping diesel into the combustion chamber and the cloud hides the final seconds as the car is made ready before gently creeping to the line. Then some one takes a hammer to your ear drums! It truly felt like some one had hit me in the centre of my ears as that car fled past where we sat. A speed of nearly three hundred Miles per hour, a quarter mile of track covered in five seconds. I left the stands in a daze, I had just seen something impossibly dangerous and it changed the feel of my blood in my veins. One day, I am going to ride my bike down that track as furiously fast as I am able.

The Jet car ambles past at close to 300MPH!

Coming back again.

 After that show, nothing else can compare. We chatted to other bikers, we shared stories of silliness and lonely breakdowns and we shared in a community spirit that I rarely see else where. Children were rare, but those present were polite and well behaved. The food court had more choice than we could try in one weekend and cost more than we could earn in one month. The stalls on the main shopping area had everything from Army Surplus to Exotic leather goods. Carol managed to persuade me try on a Leather waist coat and to be honest I fell in love with it. With my badges attached and two little patches sown onto the back, she looked at and approved. I was now a proper biker.

Packed and ready to head for home again.

Packing everything back down and back onto our bikes was a sad affair. If I am honest I did not wish to go home, back to the humdrum of work and paying Council Tax and washing dishes in a dish washer. I was happy on the road, packing what I needed onto my bike wearing little and washing when I could. The sun was kind to us and the rain clouds kinder, the ground was warm and dry for leaving the field. Three gentlemen camped opposite proved that the old school and the new generation could ride together and enjoy it just the same. The family next to us, the children grown up and riding their own bikes, spoke only in kind words and good humour. After a weekend like that, why would anyone want to return home to the normality of a street where people stare because you ride a dirty great big motorcycle?

George, Mark and Henry. Teacher and former pupils enjoying bikes as friends.

The Bulldog Bash for me was not a bike rally, it was a visit to a town populated by bikers who no matter what all do something with as much joy and passion as I do, they live for that moment when riding the bike fills the heart with joy. It did not matter if they were a teenage Dance music fan or pension paid grandma, they were there for the same reason I was, because they loved bikes.

Stopping for breakfast on the way home.

Congratulations to Rachel and Jan, with love from Curious Adventures

Yes folks, my dear friend Rachel has tied the knot and got married to her fabulous partner Jan and seeing them dancing together at the party after it was obvious just how much in love they were.

So what has this got to do with Motorbikes you may ask? Well, now there is a story all of its own.

Carol and I woke up good and early on Saturday morning, the previous evening had been spent sorting out clothing, hats and shoes and then packing it all into the panniers. The weather forecast warned of showers, so everything was packed into waterproof bags and sealed in good and tight. The panniers were slung over Sylvie and Noreen before being secured into place. Sadly other things had conspired against us and we were now running late, but this was time that we hoped to make up once out on the open road.

Riding a fully loaded Sylvie for the first time was interesting and to be honest, she had barely changed her gentle road manners. She was still very easily flickable and cornered with her usual good grace. My chain oiler was full of brand new and specially formulated oil thanks to the lovely folks of Tutoro Chain Oilers  and we hit the road.

(https://www.facebook.com/tutoro.chainoiler or http://www.tutorochainoiler.com/)

Getting out of Weston was interesting and I picked up a tail in the form of two guys on those huge BMW GS1200 touring bikes, loaded up for a weekend break. Having left them behind in traffic I headed out of town to wait for Carol at our meeting point.

While waiting I noticed a huge amount of other bikers had the same idea, so this is the last petrol station we hit before the motorway, but even so, there were loads of them, ranging from Harleys to Hondas and Sports bikes to mopeds. It felt like every loved two wheels on that day.

I heard Carol approach before I saw her. Noreen has something of a characteristic exhaust note, or rather bellow. She pulled in and then together we headed off into the world of traffic that is the M5 on a Saturday afternoon. Sylvie picked up speed and we managed to get past the first of a series of numpties that we would meet. If I have any questions it would be this. Why would you drive your car onto the motorway at 40 miles per hour and then stay at that speed? Were it an old car I could understand, but this was a recent modern car. Oh I know why, it is because you are on the telephone!

So we blasted off into the distance, but traffic was heavy approaching Bristol and it stayed heavy until we cleared the M5/M4 interchange. Getting onto the M4 was surprisingly easy but traffic was still slow, finally we made it through and our speed picked up to real motorway speeds, progress was now being made. My MP3 player was gently singing away with such delights as Dissection and Slayer before a muffled raw of Dark Funeral live kicked in. Black Metal and Motorcycle touring, never before has this unholy alliance been so comfortable.

Loaded and ready to go, Jayne has a stretch!

 Talking of comfort, Sylvie has had a lot of work done to her (as documented else where in this here blog) to make her comfortable for long trips, but one thing we have not been able to modify yet is the super hard seat. Usually with in five miles, my back side is pounded to burger mince, but not this day. We made it all the way to our first stop at Leigh Dellamare services with out so much as a bum ache. We did need a wee though. From here we blasted along just enjoying the sunshine and riding together.

Riding long distances with your partner (or friend too come to that) is just awesome. I looked at Carol as she piloted Noreen along the motorway and she looked so serene, sat there doing what she does best, which is riding bikes very, very well. She noticed my quick glance (how does that happen? You look at some one on the motorway for a second and they notice and look back, even if they are asleep! Actually, riding bikes while asleep is dangerous, so don’t do it!) and I got a smile back.

Another wee stop at Membury and then back on the road. Traffic was still light here, but we both knew that London was going to be hectic. I was a little anxious about it to be honest, but Carol assured me I would be fine. Handy having a Senior Motorcycle Instructor Trainer as your girlfriend. Finally we stopped for fuel at Heston Services and prepared for the final long haul into the centre of London. The MP3 player was put away and the Sat Nav switched on. Bloomsbury Hotel here we come!

Passing under the M25 signalled for the traffic to start getting manic. With busses, cars, mopeds and cyclists every where and pedestrians with no sense of traffic fear walking in the road, London is a place to be cautious. Carol led the way as usual with her fine skills, I swear that she has a homing pigeon roosting in her brain that guides us to anywhere we want to go. She seems to know instinctively where we are at all times and I am starting to suspect that actually she is a Skynet Terminator turned to good! So using Carol’s inbuilt Sat Nav and the Tom Tom, we navigated through London heading towards Bloomsbury, the roads crossed and confused me, we went down roads going one way and then the other and to me it felt like we had entered a great labyrinth, luckily there was no minotaur to fight at the centre!

The Girls relaxing in the sunshine.

Then with less than a mile to go we hit major road works and the traffic halted. Passing along that final mile took nearly forty minutes. My engine temp gauge started to creep up and Sylvie was humming along at just over boiling point, thankfully she was well topped up with coolant. Noreen though was less happy. Her eleven hundred CC lump was getting hotter by the minute and sat in traffic that was moving in a speed measured in Snail time was not helping. With the end in sight we managed to find the street we wanted and there on the side of the road was a motorcycle park, two small spaces next to each other in an otherwise full parking lot.

The most impressive thing about parking in London is the Stainless Steel Ground anchors fixed into the road! With Sylvie and Noreen locked to these with no less than five locks, we dashed off to the hotel room to get changed. Noreen was still steaming away like a kettle on boil!

Our precious bikes locked up and secure.

The wedding reception was lovely in every way that such a thing can be lovely. The two young brides both looked elegant and beautiful in matching outfits and shoes, Jazz singer was crooning away and the music sounded wonderful. Despite my inherent dislike of Jazz, I found myself enjoying the entertainment and I wandered around the room finding friends long missed and thought never to be seen again.

The venue.

So a small message to those who are dear to me because we barely had time on the night.

Xander, you sir are a Scholar and a Gentleman, you also have such a kind, strong & gentle heart. You make a great little Brother.

Sam and kat, you are both wonderful beautiful women. It is wonderful to see you happy Sam.

Laura and Debbie, so little time to talk and yet so many happy memories. We must go and play soon

Pam and Mig, such a perfect couple and you both looked gorgeous. I have missed you Pam.

Gil and Jim, so lovely to see you again after so long, Gil still looks incredible.

But most of all, Rachel and Jan, you are perfect. Rachel, you are the best friend any one could ever wish for. Your grace and poise is evident in every thing you do and you are more lovely than ever. Jan, I have not met you before, but I can see how you won Rachel’s heart. The smile on her face when you are near is radiant.

Carol and I both wish you every happiness together, life will sometimes be hard and sometimes it will seem cruel, but as long as you love and care for each other, these things will pass you by with barely a mark on your hearts. Seeing you both together and so in love fills us all with a sense of good things for the future, not just for you both, but for the world to.

The evening ended and Carol and I headed back to the Hotel. Our room was stiflingly hot, the window barely opened and the duvet on the bed would have turned it into a furnace. So with the fan on and under a thin sheet, we snuggled down for a night of well deserved rest.

The Orwellian building as seen from our room, Minilove maybe?!

The following morning, I awoke and headed to the shower, it was so cool and refreshing, but the water seemed too slow…

I returned to the bed and sat with Carol for a while before she too made her way to the shower. She turned it on and waited. She turned it on more and still waited. No more water was to fall from that shower on that day. So it was a quick wash in the sink. She turned on the tap and waited. After half an hour she boiled the little amount of water left in the kettle and washed using that. It seemed that our hotel had maybe not paid it’s water bill!

We loaded our kit and headed back into London traffic. There were fire engines and ambulances roaring to and fro and sirens wailing for a fair bit of the time, but Carol and I were blissfully unaware of the rioting that took place while we slept in a different part of town!

Stopping for breakfast.

Negotiating the traffic was still stressful and once again we stopped at Heston services for fuel before heading back onto the motorway. The threats of rain turned into showers, but fortunately we had seen it coming and were already in our water proofs. It could rain as much as it liked, we were toasty and dry.

That lasted until just outside of Chippenham. A sudden increase in rain and then the flashes of lightening pointed to a storm. The rain that was hitting the road was bouncing four feet back into the air. Road spray made seeing cars running with out lights on hard work and our speed dropped to that of an elderly tortoise on a roasting hot day! Progress was slow. Then suddenly a barrier gave way and I felt the cold chill of rain water find it’s way through the outer layer of my riding kit and soak through to my smalls! It was like some one had poured a glass of water into my underwear, soaking my clothing. It was so cold and I was starting to shiver. Our last stop was at Gordano services, a top up with fuel and bit of chocolate was enough to warm us through for the final few miles home.

Minutes later, we were soaked by an electrical storm.

In total we clocked up just over two hundred and eighty miles, we each used two tanks of fuel and drank several pints of tea, coffee or hot chocolate. I saw some very dear friends and witnessed one of the dearest to me looking so radiantly happy I could have cried with joy. I also rode my bike in the busiest place I have ever been to and survived with out a scratch. Sylvie performed flawlessly despite having a thirty three BHP restrictor kit fitted and Noreen barely spluttered even when her fuel tap was turned to reserve.  My Tutoro Chain oiler was three quarters used when I got home and I swear that it made a difference to the ease at which my precious Sylvie ran.

What a wonderful weekend. We owe a huge debt of thanks to Rachel and Jan for inviting us and providing us with somewhere to sleep that was both safe and quiet. We most sincerely wish Rachel and Jan a very long and happy future together, filled with love, fun and all of the things that make life so rewarding.

I don't want to ride in London, I is scared!

Do you remember your first time?

It felt slightly dirty, a little bit taboo and then it made me squeal with ecstasy, the chap who took my cherry chatted to me for a while as the heat of excitement dissipated and then we did it again. 

Yeah, my first ever ride on a bike was with a dear friend of mine on the back of his CB250 Super Dream. The bike was slow, heavy and under powered, but it was a bike and we were free to ride where ever we wanted. We clocked up hundreds of miles and even attended a rally together. That was nearly twenty years ago and I had forgotten about it until very recently.

What reminded me was something that happened to me on Friday, or rather happened to some one else with me. I was working in a small town near Bristol and took a ride over on the SV due to the Yam still being a paper weight in the garage.

The support worker I was teamed with on this day was a young woman called Rosie, just into her twenties and she is lovely, very gentle and brilliant with our lad. However, upon telling her that I was going to offer her a lift home, she squealed and danced around the house, which made our lad smile and laugh, before giving her a hug.

So at the end of our day, having enjoyed some great art and even some cooking, Rosie started to get ready to go. I gave her some spare gear that I had brought with me, which only just fitted her due to me being tall and chubby and her being shorter and a lot thinner, the joy of age and then we were ready to go.

Now I am not averse to nubile young women holding onto me, but I will admit that this was cool for a different reason. She giggled and laughed as she got comfortable on the pillion pad before I pressed the go buttons. I swear to you that she screamed all the way down the drive way and giggled all the way to the first turn. I was being very gentle and was giving her time to get used to how a bike feels. All I could hear was excited giggling as we gently headed up the road.

Our first stop was where she phoned the home of her next client. she told them to look out for her on my bike. The client was not amused, she wanted a go on the bike too! So we headed off into the hills and made our way to the clients house. At one point we entered a section of road that has national speed limit signs and the car in front of us was travelling at barely 40. It just required a little over take and so I nipped out and back in again making progress past the slow moving car. My friend on the back was giggling and whooping as we ambled past.

Finally we arrived at the clients house, a young woman who we both know well and really enjoy working with. Technically I was finished for the day, Rosie was about to start a night shift, but just going back home seemed boring. Our clients was a little jealous of Rosie because she has been desperate for a ride on the bike ever since she first met me, how could I refuse?

Working with adults who have learning difficulties and physical disabilities is both very challenging and very rewarding work, but it is work I really enjoy. My friend and I helped our client put on her bike gear and checked her new helmet before going outside and starting the bike. She climbed on the back and we both made sure that she knew how to tell me to stop if she needed to get off. Then I pulled away and very gently performed a full circle on the road outside her house, thank the town planner for the extra wide vehicle turning area.

My new pillion hugged me tightly from behind and was looking over my right shoulder to see where we were going, I knew that she was a little scared, but she would never show it to her housemate or us support workers. So at gentle pace we set off for a short ride around town. She loved it. As we were coming home and coming across the motorway fly over, we watched a black unmarked Police Car, come racing up the slip way with blue flashing lights and tare off in pursuit of a badly driven Landrover Disco!

Once back home our client jumped off, she was in a completely different mood to the quiet, with drawn mood that we found her in. Her face was all smiles, she was bouncing along and filled with joy, just like my friend Rosie. Two very different women, with very different places in the world, now joined in a common experience of adventure.

Rosie will be having a lift again when we work together next, she loved the bike and maybe one day she will get a bike of her own. Our client though is another story, she will never be allowed to ride her own bike on the roads due to her disability, but I do not see why this should stop her having fun. So once we hit summer and the local bike nights start up again, I will be picking her up and bringing her over, so she can have a proper ride out, she can see lots of other bikes and she can meet other bikers. I know that she wants to do this and I know that she is hugely excited by the idea.

Damn, I love my job and I love riding my bike, I love it even more when the two things are combined. So folks, if any of you happen to bump into me at a bike event and I have a young woman in my care, don't be shy or dismissive of her because of her disability, she is just as much a biker as the rest of us.