I currently run a Honda VFR800 and a KTM 640LC
enduro.
My first ride on a bike was on the back of my sister's
boyfriend's RD350LC (I still fancy owning one). My first PTW was an
asthmatic Honda moped (red it was) which I replaced with a CB100N for £100
(blue it was) after slogging my guts out in a pallette factory over the
summer. That lasted me through Uni although it went
through chocolate kick-starts more frequently than Chris Walker
finishing runner-up in BSB. I then took my first break from bikes
while I headed south to make my name and fortune.
Moving on to 1982, after a typical lack of research
that was to show itself again when I started doing the rally, I didn't
realise the law on riding was about to change and I got myself a CD200 for
the daily commute to the railway station. I now had six months to
pass my test, under the Star Rider two part system. Cursing at
the time, it was to turn out to be one of my better moves.
Riding up the A1 to play golf with a bag of clubs slung across my
shoulders was probably not so clever.
Come one cold, icy winter's day and I found myself
sliding down the road behind the bike thinking "S*d this for a game of
soldiers!". So, I swapped the bike for the all-round year comforts
of an old car with no 2nd gear but at least it had a working heater.
There followed a gap of several years then it was
actually my wife who suggested we get a bike to play with. As she
was a bit of a lightweight we went for a GPz305. One divorce later
(un-related) I traded the bike in for a VFR800, my first true "big"
bike. I picked the bike up on the Wednesday and on the Thursday was
off on a "work's outing" with a long weekend in Ireland, which was
definitely jumping in the deep end.
I have since swapped that VFR for another one as it was
the wrong colour (red instead of blue). I discovered the rally last
year and being the obsessive sort decided to push for 100% all
rounder. Everything was sweet until I came off as I headed up
for a week in Scotland. Partly my fault, as I was still touching the
front brake as the wheel buried itself in some deep, loose gravel
liberally dumped across the road. I bruised my knee, but my left
thumb was very sore. I suspected the worse but I was not about to let
it spoil my trip. Much clutchless gear-changing, and several
days later, I rolled up to the local A&E to have my hand put in a
cast when the X-ray confirmed the break.
This year, I made an effort to make the rally trips less
of an endurance with fewer miles per day and more time to explore each
landmark, although I went for one epic run down to the South-West and
back in under 18 hours on Midsummers day.
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