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It was a damp, dank overcast Sunday. The autumn fall of leaves had been turned to a treacherous, slippy mulch and when combined with mud deposited on the road by all the farming traffic locally it made for an evil cocktail. However I had spent most of the last week stuck in my car, plodding up and down the M40 and M42 in the dark, a stream of piercing headlights coming at me and an endless line of blood red tail lights stretching out ahead of me. My day only punctuated by time in an office or a workshop bereft of much in the way of natural light. As with last weekend, I needed some bike time. So I dragged the cover off my trusty 550 hack, I am sure I saw it shiver and wince, like a loyal dog reluctantly stirred from a particularly deep sleep. I thumbed the starter and the air-cooled four coughed reluctantly into life, condensation pouring from the exhaust. On with my gear as the bike warmed through and even started to idle off choke (remember those!?)
I climbed aboard, pulled the clutch and felt that satisfying 'thunk' as first gear engaged. I gave the bike a few revs and away I went. Barely before the wheel had made it's first complete revolution I felt better. Fresh Worcestershire air streaming into my welcoming lungs. Out into the countryside…my regular haunt the A448. Keeping the River Severn company as it took me towards Bridgnorth and Shropshire, county number two. I dispatched a few cars but really wasn't in a hurry. Into The Food Stop Cafe (of course) at Quattford. Not much out today, but oddly more sports bikes than adventure bikes on a day very much suited to the latter. Once inside I allowed myself a smile as I noted the Christmas tree up, Resisting the urge to order a turkey sandwich I went for a more traditional choice and a warming mug of tea. Read some bits and bobs in MCM and just let the time gently waft past.
Do I ever go anywhere else??
Merry Christmas folks!
I wish Santa was bringing me one of these….a 2003 R1 in silver and black…yes please!Back on the bike I decided to wonder a little further, going through Wolverley a surprisingly pretty little village, with an excellent pub. From there I really took to the muddy back lanes that twist and turn up towards Kinver edge where people lived in caves as recently as the 1960s. These are now managed by the National trust. By now the lanes were so muddy that I dare not stop for fear of not being able to hold the bike up, or get the traction to pull away again! Hence no pictures and the poor old 550 was getting rather muddy! Great for your slow riding skills though…
I passed briefly into Staffordshire, the third county for the day as came near the infamous Draklow tunnels, an underground complex built in WW2 to manufacture aero engine parts and more recently used as a Cold War Command Bunker. I picked gingerly along the lanes, barely daring to use the throttle and almost exclusively using the rear brake. Slow, but somehow satisfying. Eventually I came back out on the main road and once I had let the mud clear the tyres got back to some 'normal' riding for the last few miles home.
The poor old ZR was filthySo 34 miles covered, three counties sampled and above all my lungs full of fresh country air. Monday morning and it's back to the Mondeo and the M40…
The educational bits:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Drakelow_Tunnels
https://www.drakelow-tunnels.co.uk/
https://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/kinver-edge-and-the-rock-houses
cor, looks as mucky as my Beta!
Not quite and I have the seen the 'puddles' you take the Beta through!
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