Koh Samui 2014 - A curious broken Jayne adventure

For this trip away we are taking things a little more easy, more relaxed and for me more pain. This trip is all about pain really, after all it has been paid for as a direct result of an accident in the work place where I was hit on the shoulder by a very heavy box that slipped from a badly stacked pile and hit me on the neck.
 
  Carol has been amazing she has once again planned and booked us both a trip that we can enjoy and in which I can find the treatment I so badly need on my fucked shoulder. My first treatment was last night and to describe it as relaxing, enjoyable or refreshing would be a lie. Instead it was painful, hard work and I cried through much of it, but once again a Thai medical physio therapist and masseuse instantly found where the damage was in my body and set about putting it right. Imagine if you will a very petite tiny Thai woman in her early to mid fifties with a gentle nature and a kind face and that is her. However you can then imagine her putting me through my paces and how my tears flowed.
   
  This morning waking up at six was not in my usual silence, it was with a gasp of pain and a cry for help to Carol to get me my pain meds. Today I can barely move, the pain in my back and shoulder is a combination of over worked muscles and my fucked shoulder and yet I have a great deal of movement in my injured bits. Once the pain meds had kicked in and I was able to move, we walked down the ten metres of beach and waded into the warm sea. It was seven AM... I was floating in the sea at seven in the morning while Carol swam near by. After a little while I to was able to swim a little, but I tired quickly and we both retired to the beach hut and a warm shower.
   
  We have at last found paradise, the sea is so close to our hut that it soothes us to sleep at night and wakes us in the morning with its gentle lapping waves. The hut itself is elegant and cool, tiles floors, a real shower and bed so comfortable I could stay here forever. This is paradise, but it comes at a cost and I know that once our money runs out, paradise ends and our flights back home take us into a new reality.
   
  Carol and Steve from Bridge Motors are planning on setting up a training school for motorcycle riders, so once we are back home the hard work starts again as once more a new venture is started and a new way for us to make our living is tried. It is going to be hard work and I know that Carol will be tired as she works every day training people to be safe on the roads. For me. I do not know what the future holds, the money I was awarded is running out fast as we spend a lot on this trip and treatment and my bike back home is modified for my increased comfort.
   
  Yet where do I find myself in Thailand once again? Sat on a hired motorcycle, this time a fully working Honda CB500 which as it turns out is a fantastic little bike. No word of a lie, it is nippy, fun and rides with a character that the CBF600 I had some time ago lacked. It is no where near as refined as my precious Suzuki, but then I have spent a great deal of time and money making Sylvie into the machine of my dreams. She is no longer the entry level sports bike she once was, but rather a mixture of genres, half sports bike, half touring bike and all mine. It is true that I miss my bike while I am here, but the other truth is that Sylvie is too much machine for these roads on Koh Samui. Here her power is too much, the roads filled with other people many of whom have a death wish. I would not want to ride Sylvie on the roads of Koh Samui because she would never get out of third gear and the fear I have while riding would be amplified with her sports heritage shining through, so a plucky little CB500 will do me for now. Would I want one back home? It would make a very friendly training bike I suppose, but with the small size and lack of thrills, I think that I would tire of it very quickly. Sylvie is my road Queen of which I have no doubt.
   
  As for Carol, she is riding a Kawasaki ER6, a lovely machine in looks if not comfort. The seat felt like a paving slab to me and the engine was just a little too lively for my liking. Carol though make it look like a push bike with the way she can throw it around on the road and push the bike to its edges. Watching her ride is a sublime experience, she does not so much as ride down the road as slink like a big cat, cool, watchful and with the sudden roar from the exhaust she is the tiger of the road.
   
  I am loving this trip for everything that it differs in from our last visit here. This time is more relaxed, more gentle and yet it still has the hard purpose of wanting to do things. We are not just here to slob around on beach until it is our time to fly home, we want to visit the friends we made last time, we see the places that we missed on out last trip and most importantly of all, we want to do it together. This trip also happens to be the aniversary of Carol and I starting our partnership, six years together and yet i feels like only yesterday that we met. Our love feels like the supportive roots of the giant tree that is our relationship and I could not be happier right now than I am with my Darling Carol sat with me on this beach. Fuck the pain, I only feel love today.

WTF! Two wheels, pedals and a sun lounger!

There is a time when art and engineering combine into making a beautiful machine and then there are times when humour and engineering combine to make something that just forces the artists to laugh!

Firstly before we get into this story there are a couple of people I need to mention. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to Biker Rock Radio DJ and fabulous Welder, Mr G. It was Mr G who has spent several hours of his time making this ludicrous machine for me. I also owe a debt of thanks to our friend Wayne who made the frame for Death Trap Mark One, a frame that sadly caused me to crash on the first ride!

So ladies and gentlemen, I now present Death Trap Mark Three!

It lives, my creation lives!

It even goes up hill!

The science behind this is simple; a recumbent bicycle is a very efficient way of propelling a human being around under their own power. They are more aerodynamic than a conventional bike and when covered with a full fairing can speed along at some very impressive speeds for a pedal powered machine. However you wont see that many of them in the mainstream for two reasons. Firstly learning how to ride one of these takes some doing and secondly, the officials who run cycle racing banned them from competitive use!

This machine is my attempt to get back into cycling because following some pretty heavy duty medical treatment, I am no longer able to ride my precious mountain bike as much as I would like. Because of this lack of cycling I have been stuck on motorbikes (which I love) or being a pedestrian (which I really do not enjoy).

We still have a couple of small issue to sort out, the front wheel has a speed wobble that makes the whole bike feel terribly unstable on sweeping corners and my cheap trainers slip off the pedals really badly. However, riding it is a riot and had me in fits of giggles. 

Going down hill!

Gareth the builder having a go.

Getting started is the hardest bit.

Death Trap Mark Three is on the road folks, so look out for us!

A list of thanks to the people who have helped by providing old bikes that I can chop up for spares.

Gareth the Welder.

Wayne the Motorcycle engineer.

Alex for giving me his push bike.

Pete at Bicycle Chain.

Steve and Sue at Bridge Motor Works.

Various People who have donated bikes.

Carol for ferrying me about to pick up bits and for bringing the bike home on top of her car.

"This is easy!" Two seconds before she fell off.

If anyone would like any welding work doing, Gareth is available and can weld almost anything. Do get in touch and I can pass his details on.

Thank you for my friends

When I heard that one of my very closest friends had been involved in a car accident, my first thought was to her well being and hoping that she had not been hurt. Remembering back to when another dear friend of Curious Adventures had a nasty bike crash some time ago, my fears for dear Jan were somewhat serious. Fortunately Jan climbed from her ruined car almost unscathed, a miracle for which we are thankful.

So once she was home safe and wine had been drunk, we planned on how to retrieve the bits that she had been forced to leave in the knackered car. So last Monday I got my bike out of the garage and picked up Jan from her flat and we set out for the dealership that was assessing Jan’s car. After an hour we admitted defeat and stopped, pulling over into a safe place where Jan phoned the dealer. After a quick chat we rode home. The dealership had relocated from Weston Super Mare to Bristol. The rain had soaked us both.

On Tuesday I had a day with another dear friend which involved tasting Japanese fast food as a celebration of his Birthday. The evening passed joyously and upon my return home I pondered a trip to Bristol the following morning with Jan. I borrowed Carol’s Sat Nav unit and picked up Jan once again. This time we set out for Bristol, heading down the A370 towards the motorway. As we exited the roundabout and swooped into the sixty miles per hour speed limit I accelerated my precious Sylvie and we tore down the road towards the next roundabout, as our speed dropped we entered our lane and I brought the bike to a halt at the roundabout and waited for a safe moment to pull out. As we pulled away and curved into the corner the back tyre gave way and went completely flat. I managed to stop the bike safely and Jan and I were forced to push the bike to the safety of the side of the road.

Once parked safely in the supermarket car park, I phoned our friends Steve and Sue of Bridge Motor Works and requested a pick up and repair. Despite being swamped with work, Steve collected us in his fantastic works truck and loaded Sylvie into the back of the truck. She was carefully strapped down and Jan and I climbed into cab of Steve’s truck. We then unloaded from the truck once we had got back to Steve and Sue’s workshop. Sylvie was sat on a paddock stand and her back wheel removed, the hole was located and worryingly it was almost too large to repair. However we were lucky and Steve was able to patch us up. By the time we were ready to go again it had got too late and so we retired for the evening.

Jackie the dog, Sue & Steve our rescuers.

Thursday dawned bright and dry, so Jan and I decided to set out once again. The injury to my shoulder was now horribly painful due to the amount of exercise I had undertaken trying to ride my bike, so we decided to take Jan’s van. The engine purred into life and we prepared to go. I stepped out into the street and waved to Jan to back the van out. The gear box screamed and growled as she tried to get it into gear. The van resolutely refused to move, the clutch was completely unable to disengage the drive from the gear box making it impossible to change or even engage a gear. Defeated once again, we phoned Steve and Sue and arranged for the van to be picked up and repaired. This was after I spent two hours trying to adjust the clutch cable which was at the limit of its adjustment. That evening we retired to Scallys and played cards.

They are good Folks at Bridge Motors.

Friday dawned once again bright and sunny, a perfect spring morning and I was just about able to climb out of bed and climb into my bike gear. Jan was ready bright and early and finally we had run out of time, after Friday the car would be taken away and crushed. So once again we pulled Sylvie out of the garage, loaded up the tank bag and set off from Bristol. The pain in my arm, hand, shoulder and neck was horrible before we even passed the point of our puncture.

We passed over the motorway and descended onto the A370 to Congresbury, we had a lovely ride on quiet roads and I managed to keep just below the speed limit. Finally we hit the limits of Bristol and once again I pulled over to a quick rest and to switch on Carol’s Sat Nav. Once the Sat Nav was on, we promptly got lost and went in completely the wrong direction. After a hundred meters of travel, the small screen suddenly flipped as it worked out which direction we were moving in and by then it was too late to turn around, we were committed to a road of heavy traffic.

We stopped for another rest a short while later after nearly running a red light. The light had changed to amber as we approached and I had pulled on the brakes but with our momentum I had to pull a little harder, this made the bike dip her nose down and Jan slid forwards on her seat a little. As she slid forwards, she slid into me and I was pushed into the fuel tank, however we were still moving forward and I had to brake a little harder, which in turn caused Jan to slide a little harder into me! We stopped at the lights in fits of giggles and Jan readjusted her seating position!

Our break was in a lay by behind a resting coach, we spent a couple of minutes chatting as I rested my arm and shoulder before we remounted and set off once again. From there it was a few more minutes before we were pulling up outside the dealership. We parked up and wandered inside before being directed back outside and into the car park. Sat in the far corner was Jan’s Mazda, looking almost fine, yet as we drew closer I started to see the damage and was suddenly shocked and grateful for the safety of my friend.

One crunched car

The car was crooked, shorter on one side that it was on the other. The drivers door was staved in and firmly jammed closed. The drivers seat was stuck fast and would not move back or forward no matter how hard we pushed it. The rear door would not close due to the bent chassis and the drivers window would not fit in the door frame anymore. How Jan managed to avoid being hurt I just do not know and when she showed me how she had to crawl from the front to the rear of the car to exit though the left hand rear passenger door.

Jan and her protector

We cleaned out the car of the various things that gather in a car when it is used every day, empty bottles, a few biscuits and a duvet cover! We also found the few things that we needed like the CDs and the little mascots that we decorate our cars with. It was an emotional moment and then we climbed back onto Sylvie and headed our way back home.

In the day to day running of our lives do we ever think about those we hold dear to us? When I heard that one of my most beloved friends was in an accident, my response was of worry and fear. Seeing the car confirmed that I had been right to worry. On the way home I was thankful for the safety of my friend and when I needed a rest so we popped into see Wayne, another person I am thankful for.  

Be safe out there folks, the roads that we love can be a dangerous playground.

Another Sylvie Modification

As many of you know, I am very proud of my beautiful Suzuki SV650. I have done a lot of work on her, made a few modifications slowing turning her into a very capable touring bike. I love the pull from the now unrestricted engine and find that she is powerful enough to really put the miles in, even when fully loaded with panniers and tank bag.

The most recent modification are a combination of practical and cosmetic and for this, I have a friend in a motorcycle forum to thank. The modification is such a simple and elegant piece of engineering because it is simply the adjuster plates that hold the rear wheel.

Old above and new below

The old plates are made from mild steel, they bend when the wheel nut is tightened and on one occasion, twisted around the swing arm and scratched the aluminium rather badly. The new units are made from high grade stainless steel which is much harder and holds the wheel in perfect alignment. The small markers cut into the new plates make putting the wheel in straight, a very easy job and once tightened they look lovely.

So, I hear you ask, what is that strange arm coming off the the plate on the left? Well my dear friends, that is a mount for an oil feed pipe. This puts the nozzle from my fabulous Tutoro in just the perfect place to ensure that the chain is well lubricated.

Oil Feed pipe from my Tutoro Oiler

So folks, if any of you ride a Pointy SV, then get yourself over to the SV forum and find a chap called Bibio, he is the one who made these fabulous plates and his prices are more than reasonable.

A very clean Sylvie back wheel

My final words on this are a little thank you to Bibio, he did the research and development himself and put his own money into this before he offered to sell the parts. He also has other items for sale that make working on your SV a whole lot easier.

So well done Bibio and thank you for your effort.

It's a dirty job, but...

So then fellow bikers, how often do you check your chain and give it a good going over with the oil? 

Yes, motorcycle chains, damn dirty things covered in the sort of filth that should be kept well below counter if you ask me! But does it have to be this way, does a chain have to be loaded with grease that holds grit and turns into a grinding paste? 

Up until recently I was using a spray can of chain grease to keep Sylvie's chain alive, through harsh winter commuting and pouring spring rain. After a very cold winter ride in freshly fallen snow (not an experience I ever wish to repeat, I can tell you) I was too cold to sort out her chain before putting her back in the garage, so when I got to her the following morning, rust had set in and as that winter progressed, despite regular maintenance, that chain slowly chewed itself to bits. However with sixteen thousand miles on it, I can say with a small degree of confidence that it did petty well. But that chain grease, is it actually any good?

So when I fitted a new chain a while back along with a Tutoro automatic chain oiler to keep it healthy. Well, maybe not fully automatic, but for fifteen quid you can't go wrong. One hundred miles to a tube of oil and an always smooth and clean chain. There is a little fling on the rear wheel, but not more than the chain grease. However, as the oil is flung off, new oil is dripped on to replace it, can you say the same for the can of grease sat in the garage?

Sylvie proudly shows off her Tutoro

So that was that. Well until I was so impressed that I contacted Tutoro and gave them a lovely letter saying that I was greatly impressed with their product and was going to share the word among our friends, which sure enough, I did.

A while later Tutoro got in touch again and asked us if we would be interested in being involved in the testing of their brand new automatic oiler? To do so would mean bolting a new and shiny oiler onto my bike and running it around for a couple of weeks and then say what we thought of it. Now let's be honest here, if a chance like this lands in your lap, you are not going to turn it down are you? Being involved in the development of a new product is not only exciting, but is a real honour. So we signed the forms, agreed to keep it secret (which is why you are only hearing about it now, some months after the event) and waited for the new gadget to arrive. 

Then Sylvie was involved a little accident and she had to be sent away for a while to be repaired and I was left riding a Honda CBF600, a bike that at the time I hated, but have recently been remembering fondly. Sylvie was returned eventually, but with several faults that meant that she had to be returned. In the mean time, no Automatic chain oiler for her and the prying eyes of mechanics. 

So we fitted the device to Carol's ZRX1100, also known as Noreen to our regular readers (hello, we love you regular readers, you are awesome!) and then went for a ride. We did have to turn the flow up a little more than some of the others had used in the tests, but it performed very well. When the test stage ended, Tutoro asked that we send the unit back and after a couple of weeks they sent it back to us and kindly said that we could keep it! So it went right back on Noreen. 

Fitting the Auto Oiler to Noreen.

You can see the size of the reservoir here, before it is hidden by the heel plate.

So with that done and dusted we went out riding and my manual unit continued to work perfectly, providing that I remembered to turn it on or turn it off when we stopped anywhere. You know that saying of "bikes do not leak oil, they mark territory!" Well, if you forget to turn off you manual oiler and let's say leave it over night in the garage, the next morning you are faced with a little puddle of incontinence! Territory very well marked... Now this is a very minor issue and to be honest, I only did it once or twice, but it always performed very well. Then one day, the valve started to leak a tiny amount of oil. 

Now an oil leak like this means that the valve would get a bit oily and this would transfer to your gloves when you switched it on. Turns out that it is very simple to fix, you just put a dab of grease on the threads and that seals it back up again. I found this out by writing to the always lovely Tutoro and asking them how to sort it out. 

They then asked me a strange question. Did I still live at the same address? 

A couple of days later while relaxing in the bath (with a poorly shoulder again, but that is another story) the Postman (yes, it was a bloke) rang the bell. Cue me running to the front door, wrapped in a towel with wet hair and a cheeky smile where upon I am presented with a large box, stamped Tutoro! 

Inside was a little note, we are off on our hols, please fit this one to your bike and let us know what you think! Luckily modesty prevailed and I managed to get dressed before rushing down to the garage and sizing up where I wanted it to go. Luckily everything was easy to get to and fitting the new version of the auto oiler was so easy that I think I could do it blindfold! 

With Noreen, we placed the oiler in the space behind the pilots heel plate, but on Sylvie, there was no room there for that. However, I have had a hugger fitted to her and just there on the swinging arm is a now redundant threaded hole. The perfect place to mount my new auto, out of the way and in a place that will stay a little warm even on the coldest winter days, right behind the engine. Chain oil does not enjoy being cold and gets a little thick, this placement was just perfect.

Tutoro Oiler in place on Sylvie.

The run of the oil delivery tube to the nozzle is hidden just out of sight on the bottom of the swinging arm and is so well thought out as to be prefect.

The tube is colourless, the green is the chain oil.

So with that in place it was time for a test ride... Only with a damaged shoulder, the furthest I was riding was the sea front for Bike Night. Oh well, never mind.

So there we go, if you want a chain oiler that is simple to fit, works and works and works with no fuss or plumbing into your bikes important systems, then you wont find anything better than a Tutoro Chain Oiler. Both Noreen and Sylvie wear them now and you know what, I would want it any other way.

In other Sylvie news, her tyres let us down recently when they finally wore out, so it was with a heavy heart and significantly light purse that I headed over to see our friends Steve and Sue at Bridge Motor Services in Weston for some new shoes.

Steve, Sue and Jackie the dog

New tyres are always going to be expensive, but sometimes you can't afford the super technical road and track racing tyres that your heart desires and instead have to make do with the ordinary sports touring tyres that you will actually use. Luckily, they had a lovely pair of Continental Contimotions in stock for me. A quick lift down the shop with my wheels from Steve the boss at Biker Rock Radio and the new shoes were slipped on in a flash. My purse though was not left in the steaming tattered state that it could have been, thanks to both Steve and Sue doing us a big favour.

So I am going to end this post with a list of thanks to those kind people who continue to make my biking experience a damn good one. In no particular order, an absolutely huge round of doughnuts and thanks go out to these people.

Tutoro Chain Oilers

Steve and Sue at Bridge Motor Works

The Reverend Steve of Biker Rock Radio

And all of you who read this stuff. Don't forget, you can leave comments and tell us what you think of our blog.

See you all very soon at Bike Night, every Thursday on Weston Super Mare sea front. 

Full Power, full speed ahead!

Two years ago this week I passed my Motorcycle test, on Henry my plucky little CG125, resulting in my first real ride of Sylvie, my lovely Suzuki SV650 in her restricted form. Two years on and I have been riding around on a restricted bike, been touring with full panniers and have taken many friends for a blast up the road.

So how is it to ride a full power SV650S with a handle bar conversion?

Can I start the engine now please?

There is only one word that fits Sylvie in her unrestricted form, beautiful! I am however once again back on the learning curve and this time it is a little easier. Well it was, then Carol said those word that involve great power... "Have a go on Noreen!" she said...

Right a bit, left a bit... Eek, too much power!

Riding a full power muscle bike is a revelation, but what really shines out is that there is a sense of menace with a bike this powerful, the sort of menace that lurks deep inside, the sort that wants to twist that throttle hard and sprint down the road at super speed... Me naughty? Never!

A perfect track stand, utterly still, the rider in perfect balance with machine!

So with the full power ECU back in place and the 33BHP unit sat in an envelope ready to post off to a person on the SV forum, it was time for a ride. Shame it was so damn cold.

OK, but I am not riding your bike back home!

Yes, good old Sand Bay here in Weston, a place we came when we brought Sylvie to her new home for the very first time, back in the days when a 125cc Bike scared the life out of me.

Through the mists of time, we can see Jayne in 2008!

I can nearly ride a bike me!

Now with us both on full power bikes at last, Carol no longer has to hang around at the back waiting for me to catch up. Although, in all fairness to the fabulous Sylvie, even restricted she was able to make good time on her trips out. So now I have to start learning again how to ride my bike and as a full power bike she is just awesome. So for a training ride with the wife, we headed out to Blagdon to buy some food for Alby the Barnowl. With two frozen chicks strapped to the back of Noreen, we got ready to ride home and then the heavens opened.

Got there safe, time to buy some Alby dinner.

Here comes the rain

Jayne enjoying British spring time

The ride home was awesome and watching Carol disappear into the distance reminds of just how far I have come and how far I still want to achieve. Learning to ride a bike well is not something that can be rushed with a five day training course, it is about learning skills, building experience and getting through the mistakes. Riding well takes practice and it takes training, so if I had to do my time again, I would still do it the same way. If you are about to start riding a bike, do it my way and really enjoy the learning. Every bike I have ridden so far has been an awesome place to be sat, be it Henry the Honda CG125, Agnes the Yamaha XJ400 or My dear Sylvie the Suzuki SV650S. Maybe one day when my skills are a little more refined I can enjoy the experience of taking Noreen the Kawasaki ZRX1100 for a ride, but that wont happen until I am ready and for that there is no rush.

Thank you Carol for all of your patience, training and advice, all of it was greatly appreciated. 

Friendship, those moments when Ouch is accompanied by giggles.

Friend: Noun. A person attached to another through feelings of affection or personal regard.

Friend
	A real friend is someone who: a)it's okay to fart in front of. b)you don't mind talking to on the bus for atleast 20 minutes. c)can borrow £5 from and never has to pay it back d)you'll actually call up do stuff.

These are dictionary definitions of the word friend, the second taken from the on line Urban Dictionary, while the first is taken from a more prestigious tome. Yes, friends, those lovely people who we confide in, share gossip and personal stories with and even the occasional foolhardy plan.

Two friends of mine are Susie and Belinda, both kind, gentle, caring and supportive people, the sort of people you want to look after your loved ones when they are in care. These two charming ladies have recently got me into trouble. How you may ask, well because they had the great idea of learning to Roller Skate and they asked me along. I know that I am going to get hurt!

This Skating lark is a doddle!

I have me some new Blades and having never skated before, I felt confident that I would have cracked this sport with in an hour or two. Well, I did feel like that until I put my feet into the bastards and then tried to stand up!

It is simple, just move your feet forwards and backwards, wobble and fall on your arse!

I think that I am going to die, painfully and probably while sliding up the pavement in wheeled shoes! Oh before you ask, yes I am wearing Motorcycle armour and a mountain bike helmet crash helmet there. I don't like broken bones!

A big massive thank you to the wife for her support while I tried out my Skates for the very first time.

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.

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.

Catching up with bestest friends

Another adventure for you lovely folks to read through, but feel free to slap my wrists because I have been some what slack in getting this one up on the board.

The Last Bank Holiday of August 2010 was a special day for us because I had arranged to meet my lovely and dear fiend Rachel in Exeter and due to me being a bit behind the schedule, I had forgotten it was Bank Holiday, so I got to bring Carol along too, the first time we have been a long way on Sylvie together in ages. Now due to a late night on Sunday on Monday morning we had to get up a little later than we would have liked, but when you have a bike, you don't have to worry about traffic so much. So an extra hour of sleep was not a problem really.

The journey down was smooth and we held a good pace considering the volume of traffic on the road, but it was a full speed screaming speed thrill type affair. This was due to a small amount of clutch slip that Sylvie had, now I had adjusted the clutch a couple of weeks before, but on 33BHP, I did not notice it slipping at all. With both of us on board and back up to full power again, The clutch was breaking out a little, so once in Exeter, it was out with the tools and a quick two minute adjustment before the journey home.

Fixing the clutch in Exeter St Davids Car park

Now safely parked up in Exeter we just had to wait for the arrival of my dear friend Rachel, being slightly early, we had time to chill and watch the world passing by. Some of the rail passengers were complaining that the trains were heavily delayed again, the joy of being a biker now is that I never have to rely on trains ever again!

Then right on time, Rachel came out of the station, looking frankly beautiful. I have not see her for a while and I missed my friend. There is nothing like the feeling of hugging a special friend and we hugged for ages. Carol was next and then it was time to find a cafe in the city centre. Walking up the hill in glorious sunshine chatting like we had seen each other only yesterday and with me reminded why I love my friends so much. Our stop turned out to be a Pasty shop and while we had lunch we shared news and gossip, none of which I can share here!

After lunch a constitutional walk was needed, despite carrying heavy motorcycle kit and as usual, me not knowing quite where we were going. It was wonderful though and as Rachel and I laughed, talked or just enjoyed the scenery, Carol enjoyed taking the photos as she always does. In case anyone is interested, Carol is a great photographer, with a real talent with her camera. If you want great quality photos, give her a call.

After a lovely walk along the river and over the railway lines, we stopped for a cuppa in the hotel bar by the station. Now to be kind, we would call the bar manager eccentric, but he was nice enough, if a little strange, however, being descended upon by us was probably enough to freak him out a bit. Again, more chat and more gossip was shared and again, none of it will be repeated here.

Alas, after a couple of hours, Rachel had to head back to Plymouth and we had to head home too. So we walked back to the station and shared hugs. I made a promise not to leave it so long next time and gave Rachel an open invitation to come and see us when ever she wants and then she was gone and I must admit that I felt a little sad that she was gone. I miss my bestest friend and love her greatly.

The journey home was somewhat slower than the journey down, traffic was bad and even we got slowed by congestion. However, the rude bitch in the blue car who pulled over into our path as we filtered through got a telling off and a mean stare from Carol. She did stop though to tell the guy with the boat on a trailer that part of his load had come loose and was rubbing on the road and then at last we hit the A370 and home, both of us had sore bottoms and aching backs from the ride, but we had both enjoyed it greatly.

To Carol, thank you for riding us so smoothly and safely, although 30MPH on the motorway feels wrong ona sports bike. To Rachel, it was so lovely to see you, my beautiful friend. I was sorry to see you looking a little sad, but with a heart as gentle and loving yours, that sadness will pass soon enough.