Reflective - Night rider, soulful trip.
Night rider, soulful trip.
Me and Jake had been down to Swindon to see an old mate who was laid up. Jake hails from south London and I was heading down from Milton Keynes, turns out Swindon is equidistant. Based on this exciting fact we decided to meet when we got there…
Winding country roads, rambling countryside and rolling hills through three counties. Sounds idylic, biker heaven. Even the weather was kind with a mixture of overcast bright skies and some blue sky with cumulous‑fat‑white‑icus. Except, the roads were laden with heavy goods vehicles obscuring my view and showering me with dust, straw and grit in equal measures. I always find the journey to a destination less enjoyable that the return. Largely it's because I know I have to arrive and there's usually some commitment attached to the arrival (start time, meal, venue opening etc). I was a little bit pensive because I wasn't sure of what I would find when I did arrive. A few days prior to the run I had received an email detailing some injuries and the fact that Ben has been unceremoniously dismounted by a cager opening it's door on a public highway!
I was blessed with a simple combination of A‑roads a good signposting to the hospital. Jake was already in situ when I arrived and the staff were relaxed enough that I didn't have to identify myself as Slob (usually breaks the ice if they are a bit cagey). I was very surprised to find Ben in fine fettle, Jake was looking like a concerned father with a sick child and understandably so, I had come in when Ben was explaining how he was dismounted (this is all on video if you care to watch the explanation for yourself after reading this article). Essentially the M4 traffic was backed up and people had exited their vehicles. Ben reduced his speed to around 25 MPH and some idiot opened their door on him. Net result was multiple arm fractures, crushed vertebrae and fractured verbitibrae. Ben ended up on his back pleased as punch that he could actually wiggle his toes. After an hour or so of us teasing him about sex and curries (not always in that order) and shooting shit in the breeze, me and Jake headed for a local pub. A beer and a coffee each later and a belly full we headed off back to our respective homes.
It was the ride back that really got me thinking. Not about Ben, let's face it we all have smashes of varying degrees. It was more about how calm I was feeling on my own, on my bike, on open roads at dusk. The sky was a dark muave with the sun below the horizon. The trees, bushes ands hills in the distance looked as though they were cut from the sky leaving a black background. Occasionally a golden field of grass would open up alongside me only to be consumed by the gloom as I raced passed. The trucks I had been so anxious to overtake on my way to Swindon were now calming lumbering giants with an ambient glow. Kindred spirits who understand the etiquette of the road. I stopped a couple of times and tried to film my surroundings, looking back at the footage the film doesn't convey what I saw. What you connect with at a particular time or place doesn’t transpose to a sterile format. I was sorry when I actually arrived home, I could have ridden all night… fuel and no work permitting.
Ben will recover… one way or another. Either way he'll always have his mates to support him ( he has plenty). For the rest of us there will be those few emotive rides that surprise us just when we need it and when we least expect it.
Winding country roads, rambling countryside and rolling hills through three counties. Sounds idylic, biker heaven. Even the weather was kind with a mixture of overcast bright skies and some blue sky with cumulous‑fat‑white‑icus. Except, the roads were laden with heavy goods vehicles obscuring my view and showering me with dust, straw and grit in equal measures. I always find the journey to a destination less enjoyable that the return. Largely it's because I know I have to arrive and there's usually some commitment attached to the arrival (start time, meal, venue opening etc). I was a little bit pensive because I wasn't sure of what I would find when I did arrive. A few days prior to the run I had received an email detailing some injuries and the fact that Ben has been unceremoniously dismounted by a cager opening it's door on a public highway!
I was blessed with a simple combination of A‑roads a good signposting to the hospital. Jake was already in situ when I arrived and the staff were relaxed enough that I didn't have to identify myself as Slob (usually breaks the ice if they are a bit cagey). I was very surprised to find Ben in fine fettle, Jake was looking like a concerned father with a sick child and understandably so, I had come in when Ben was explaining how he was dismounted (this is all on video if you care to watch the explanation for yourself after reading this article). Essentially the M4 traffic was backed up and people had exited their vehicles. Ben reduced his speed to around 25 MPH and some idiot opened their door on him. Net result was multiple arm fractures, crushed vertebrae and fractured verbitibrae. Ben ended up on his back pleased as punch that he could actually wiggle his toes. After an hour or so of us teasing him about sex and curries (not always in that order) and shooting shit in the breeze, me and Jake headed for a local pub. A beer and a coffee each later and a belly full we headed off back to our respective homes.
It was the ride back that really got me thinking. Not about Ben, let's face it we all have smashes of varying degrees. It was more about how calm I was feeling on my own, on my bike, on open roads at dusk. The sky was a dark muave with the sun below the horizon. The trees, bushes ands hills in the distance looked as though they were cut from the sky leaving a black background. Occasionally a golden field of grass would open up alongside me only to be consumed by the gloom as I raced passed. The trucks I had been so anxious to overtake on my way to Swindon were now calming lumbering giants with an ambient glow. Kindred spirits who understand the etiquette of the road. I stopped a couple of times and tried to film my surroundings, looking back at the footage the film doesn't convey what I saw. What you connect with at a particular time or place doesn’t transpose to a sterile format. I was sorry when I actually arrived home, I could have ridden all night… fuel and no work permitting.
Ben will recover… one way or another. Either way he'll always have his mates to support him ( he has plenty). For the rest of us there will be those few emotive rides that surprise us just when we need it and when we least expect it.
