Nothing of interest; just mindless links to bikes Birmingham City Football Club and useless junk

Blogs I read
Titch
Fat Buddha
Nick's Rants
El Mayor
Archives

 
Threee Middleweights and a Busa

On a bright and breezy February morning, a small band of blokes, who really should have been at home doing DIY, went for a ride out.

Nitronorry (Martin) was on his Graphite 675, his brother, Ian on a 2005 Kwak 636 B1 and Jamie on his twin carbon can clad Busa. Ne’er an uglier bunch gathered together and I’m sure the public were pleased that we spent most of the day with our faces hidden behind our helmets.

I had planed to meet Martin and the others in Henley in Arden for about 9.30. For once in my life I was on time. I took a stroll up and down the High Street and window shopped for houses I could never afford. By about 9..50 no one had shown up and I no text received, so I decided to take the Warwick road to see if I could spot the advancing party. No joy. I went back to the High Street and waited until 10.15. By this time I had given up hope. Seeing as I had a pass from the wife I elected to ride up to Warwick and blow out some cobwebs. As I turned off the High Street onto the Warwick Road I spotted the others. It turned out that Martin had suffered some problems with his bike – probably a flat battery. Serves him right for being a part time rider [:P]

Off we all went on the A4189 towards Redditch before turning onto the A435 southwards towards Arrow. We swung right onto the A422 through Inkberrow then onto the big and wide A44 to Evesham. Martin took us up Fish Hill and into towards the Cotswolds. Up until that point Norry had being leading with Ian and Jamie following and me taking the tail. On Fish Hill Jamie flagged me by and he turned into the rear gunner.

Once we had ridden through the freezing fog we pulled into Moreton In Marsh for tea and a sarnie. Ian played mother, Jamie necked a hot chocolate before the waitress had time to place the drink on the table and I somehow left my dark visor on the floor.

Fully refreshed we set off towards Chipping Norton for petrol (all relieved that we didn’t have to bump the 675). The traffic was quite heavy, so it came as no surprise that one of us got left behind. We pulled into a layby to allow Jamie time to catch up. And we waited. And waited. At this point Martin decided to turn back and find the Busa. I was going to stay put as the Daytona was in desperate need for fuel. Just as Martin was about to set off, Jamie appeared. It transpired that my visor bag had decided to jump out of my rucksack. Jamie very kindly went back to retrieve it. No sign of the visor inside, which is why I think I left it in the tea shop. I emptied the bag to fish out some Sportsbiker.net pens so it must have fallen out then.

Off we went, once again. Ian had told us that he was going to peel off and head back home. The A361 took us from Chipping Norton up towards Banbury then the A423 to Southam and then the A425 bound for Leamington Spa.

The riding was fast but not stupid. There was a decent amount of traffic on the roads, both bike and car, so we had to overtake when safe and this meant the gaggle of leather clad ducklings were often losing sight of each other. Martin took us onto the Fosse Way. As we came off the roundabout Martin and I got the jump on some cars before the double white lines kicked in. The B4455 Fosseway is a good road with some nice twisties inbetween some breath catching straights. As we all knew where we were going we went at our own pace, with Norry up front and Jamie bringing up the rear. I managed to keep the 675 within my sights and we soon made it at the junction with the A422. Once again we found ourselves waiting for the Busa. After 5 minutes we agreed to turn back. We found Jamie pulled over, having a chat with a car driver. Either there had been a coming together or this was a pleasant form of road rage. As the two trumpets pulled up, we both clocked the POLICE name badge on the car drivers jacket.

Oh shit

Martin and I weren’t sure if we should do the decent thing (whack the copper on the back of the head, throw him in the car, torch the car and make good our escape) or await our fate. We decided to stay. Once the policeman had completed his paperwork, he turned his attention to the Brit bike riders.

“You two overtook me just after the island back there. I’ve been a traffic cop for about 22 years. I reckon you were doing about 80 to90 miles per hour”.

Silence. Blank faces.

“It was very good of you to come back for your mate. I’ve cautioned him. I didn’t think it was fair to throw the book at him when it was you two I was after. I won’t take the matter any further. “

We then had a lecture about being rusty riders out on a the first sunny day.

It’s fair to say we stuck to the speed limit as we headed to Stratford. Once in Stratford the other two parked up and I turned to go home (taking the long way home towards Redditch).

A good day out. Some 5 hours in the saddle, about 180 miles covered. Good company, no stupid stunts or suicidal speeds and a nice cup of tea midpoint.
posted by kwacky at 11:24 pm