British Treffen 21-24 August 2008

The British Treffen 2008 at Driffield in Yorkshire was a first for me so I guess that makes me a Treffen rally virgin? I have attended hundreds of M.A.G Rally’s over the past couple of decades at home and abroad including the huge Euro Demos on the continent back in the early 90’s, but never a Honda Goldwing Treffen. I wasn’t going to write anything but a man with a camera suggested I should so here it is…….

I arrived on site 10.30am on a sunny Thursday on my 1800 Goldwing, I set up my tent before going to find Barry my mate then  head over towards the bar just before the first of the days rain poured over everyone. I don’t know about you but to me It feels like it has rained every piggin day since May!

My first thoughts were about the ladies attire, they looked so demure in their pink/yellow/flowery/lime green wellies! Silly dress sense doesn’t matter when one is in conflict with Mother Nature and up to ones ankl in mud and water does it? My friend Christine had some skull and cross boned wellies to die for! I declared that I wanted some.

It was a familiar sight to see bikers under canvas, many of which were huge and grew from trailers that hung on the back of Goldwings. They were amazingly full of anything and everything. In fact they put my simple abode to shame!

I have to say that It was mildly disturbing to see the odd lake that had grown here and there, I kid you not folks after all, York races had just been cancelled because of the same rains remember? What was even more disturbing was the large group of helpers sweeping the gallons of water out from the beer tent. ”Oh no, what’s happening to the beer tent” I mumbled to myself, I had visions too horrible to jot down here.

As I wandered around the site I could see to my left through the shrubs a huge sea of white stuff, on closer inspection this turned out to be the land of the motor homes. I couldn’t believe my eyes, there were rows upon rows of huge great white things, some with trailers housing Goldwings, it reminded me of that great container depot in Hong Kong that I walked around back in the late 80’sI I thought they would look a whole lot better if they had the same fantastic paintjobs as our bikes had instead of the various hues of white, white or white, maybe even have some coloured lights and strobes and stuff.  I walked off wondering how they were going to cope if the ground continues to get softer and softer. I frowned thinking “bloody hell this would never happen at a MAG rally!”

I wandered away from “Tin Can Alley” to say hello to some familiar faces arriving across the way. A couple of hours later I stood with Barry at Appleyards stall catching up on new and exciting ideas for 2009. This carried on over dinner in the smartest chip shop in Yorkshire. On the way back to the encampment we met with more friends, Barry just seemed to know everybody! That’s the reason it was ages before we got back to the beer tent, it was the longest tent I have ever been in and getting to the bar took forever, I passed row upon row of black leather clad wingers, a smile from one or two as we recognised each other. I drank beer in the constantly changing company but somehow I always ended up with the same couple of rogues from Halifax and Leeds along with wives Christine and Elaine.

I had put my name forward to Chris Hinds earlier to be a marshal so I was up in good time next morning. We got a good briefing from Chris who explained we would use the drop off system and what to look out for on the route. After we all signalled we understood, we moved off, dressed in yellow tabards, I was to do my first bit at a roundabout just along from Sledmere House, I took Tracy from Pennine Wings along with me for the day, this is Tracy the wonderful dancing lady of the duo from the Easter Llandudno weekend. Within ten minutes of the ride we heard of an accident that had occurred between a couple of bikes, there were some casualties but little else was known as yet, the crash site was attended by marshals, the police and ambulance were notified. We set of to catch the lead element and give what information we could which was a bit sketchy unfortunately. We passed through crowded Pickering and up over the moors to catch up with Chris Hinds and the lead marshals who were now in possession of more details and were busy on the phone reorganising things. I’m not sure how many bikes were on this ride but Tracy had counted well over a hundred and thirty bikes and trikes before running out of toes!

We ran down through Goathland at a slow pace giving the sheep time to stroll out of the way and for John and Jean Bates to photograph us as we came over the railway bridge, we rejoined the main road and then the coast road into Whitby just a few minutes away.
Whitby turned ugly as grey skies approached and quickly bathed everyone in gallons of rainwater.  Tracy and I took cover in one of Whitby’s many public houses and gazed at the rain sodden people passing by. We did manage a little wander around between showers but spent most of the afternoon dodging in and out of cafes. Soon It was time to go back to the bikes and sort ourselves out for the run back to Driffield which was a wet run again to begin with. Meanwhile Neil and Meryl bought what looked like two see through plastic nappys to keep the rain out. They looked funny but dry.

We exited the busy town centre going back the way we came over the moors as it stopped raining. Tracy noticed that Neil was leading us towards that bright bit of sky away in the distance so her spirits lifted, except for her bum that was soaked to the skin. Everyone was glad to get back to the site. we were a mixture of wet, damp or just plain soaked to the skin bikers re Tracy’s bum. Oh what joy of joys, the joys of biking!

The evening found me unsurprisingly in the beer tent, tonight folk were dressed in vampire and monster stuff the girls looked really wicked unlike the men, I’ve never seen so many Spidermen and Captain Wondeful’s leaping about under one roof! Dave Duffield  was dressed like a tree I think albeit a very scary tree! They all gave the game away though when it came to having a drink. One lady looked wonderful in heels, fishnets, maid outfit and a huge mop of ginger hair, I’m sure it was the same girl the next night with spiky brown hair and dazzling eyes, But I’m not too sure. I declared again it was not like a MAG rally but was tons of fun to oggle at. I couldn’t bring myself to look Meryl in the eye with so much blood oozing down her neck, I didn’t know what to do, save her or have a bite myself! Meanwhile a grumpy looking bugger with bald head appeared on various ladies shoulders, he was really in character and gurning at everyone.

Next morning was an early start, I was to be a marshal again. We had another good briefing from Chris, this time a rideout to York was on offer. We left ten minutes before Neil brought on the ninety bikes of the main body, I thought everyone on this trip would be extra vigilant after yesterday’s accident. Concentration and awareness is paramount on rideouts and can never be stressed enough. I was despatched to a junction of a tiny B road with another couple, were we would ask car drivers to stop for five minutes until the convoy came up the narrow lane, it was only about half a mile in length so wouldn’t take long. I stood there quietly as fifty or so geese waddled up from the bottom of the field and stood ten feet away shouting at me, I told them to push of and waved my arms, this just made them shout even more. My friend doesn’t like birds and was due on her hubbies trike any moment and would throw a “dizzy fit” if she knew this lot were waiting for her, the poor lass has just gotten over the severe stalking George Seagull from North Wales gave her. I avoided their eyes, they soon got the message cursing, waddling and hissing all the way back down the field.

Neil announced his arrival on the CB at the bottom of the narrow lane, I stopped the first car to explain what was coming up the lane as the guy following pulled out and dived down the lane! “Oh you bloody clown” I thought, Neil was advised and easily dealt with the problem, I wish I could have seen the drivers face as all ninety “Hells Angels” approached him! I had about ten cars sitting waiting at the top, they were OK about the temporary halt and got out of their cars to watch in amazement as one by one the bikes came up the lane. I thanked them and hurried on after the last towards the A64 and York where arrangements had been made for us to stop at a park and ride and be bussed into the city.  I stayed with others at the bikes just enjoying the dry and warm day that unfurled before us, I’d been to York lots of times so didn’t feel the urge to go again so soon.

The ride back hours later was fun, the A64 around York was down to a crawl as is tradition at holiday times, the road went from a fast duel carriageway to a single A road with two roundabouts in two hundred yards, it is a notorious stretch of road, so just two of us squeezed to the front and managed to persuade the slow moving traffic to let us pass through. The first car was full of young girls who proceeded to give me some wolf whistles, amazingly one of them turned out to be a work colleague! She shouted “OI! Are you out with your scooter boys again Dave?” I said “Just call this lot that if you dare when they pass you little so and so!” After the swarm of bikes passed I winked, blew her a kiss and rode off, thanking everyone again.

It was a great run back, it turned into a warm day with long outbreaks of sun, I turned Duffy up on the I-pod for some more of her No 1 hit Mercy. Today’s ride was without incident and everyone was much sharper than the previous rideout I guess.

We got back to the site in good time for an hours break before the Parade of Nations, I had no idea what this was so had to ask. I decided to help with that too and was given the last roundabout before the campsite to manage. I waited about twenty minutes before a police car with lights on led Neil and the swarm at a steady pace through the town centre and eventually to me, I waived the first car down and asked if she would wait five minutes whilst the group came by (five minutes?? Who was I kidding! ) What a great sight it was for me to witness from the road side, I’m used to motorbikes but was still amazed at the sight so what the car people must have thought must have been tens times so. On the bikes came, horns blaring, flags blowing and everyone waving and smiling.  I’m sorry but I can only wave at so many bikes so I just stood and smiled.  Fifteen minutes passed and I did not dare to look round to meet the drivers glare as my five minutes drifted into history! I did begin to wonder if they had gone round the town twice, I fought the urge to keep looking at my watch, no doubt the woman sitting behind was doing that for me! The last of the bikes arrived and I looked in the general direction of the car, avoiding her eyes, I mouthed a thank you and moving off.

That night found me in the bar again with everyone else enjoying the music and chatting to Wingers from all over England, I even had a conversation with four French folk from Carcassone, I told them of a bike holiday we had in the region not so long back. Mostly we  talked about the great walled city they have there.

The next day was a day off the bike so was able to look around the stalls, I spent some time around the Baron Trikes people I was mesmerized by these machines, I was niggled by the thought that they were a bit too gay for my liking, safe, nice, curvey, smooth, sadly for so much money they did nothing for me really. Sad to say they filled me with the same excitement as the arrival of a No 37 bus.  I guess If I was to have a trike it would have to be the animalistic grunting, snarling, pointy edged, squat square shape of the 1500cc EML. It just comes across as a man’s bike if you know what I mean? I don’t mean to imply that all you guys that have the former are…..well you know what I mean guys? I looked at the other stalls before returning to join Barry in the trade hall for a coffee and another long chat about another possible European tour in 2009.

Another parade was due in the early evening, I stood with Barry Tina and “The Irish Louts” outside the fish bar on the high street we clapped and cheered as hundreds of gaily lit machines cruised by. How one chooses the best of these must be impossible, I thought they all looked “The dogs B”, it reminded me of that scene in  Stephen Speilberg movie Close Encounters of the Third Kind when a couple of UFO’s came down the road, remember? I saw the Blackpool Light Parade once, I was gobsmacked then and was gobsmacked now!  Later in the beer tent (again) we all talked about this bike and that until the wee small hours…..as you do.

So what did I think of it all? Well, in comparison I think I found it a bit lacking in stalls and entertainment when taking into account it was a premier event, however, the rideouts were an unsurpassed spectacle for sure, taking in the natural beauty of our Yorkshire through the lovely twisting quiet back roads. MAG on the other hand generally only does a small afternoon rideout but lays on copious layers of entertainment at all their rally’s. The Treffin appears to leave everyone to their own devices, which could be disappointing considering the price paid to come in. MAG beer tents are big but this one was BIG big! The ethos of MAG GB is to fight for bikers rights, that’s me and you whatever we ride. Raising money to fight anti bike legislation and put our voice in parliament here and Europe through rallys and rideouts.  It’s known as “Party With A Purpose” Its quite a passionate and emotive thing to be involved with. Whereas the GWOCGB appears to be more of a huge social gathering of the mature kind, their wives and families. The main goal appears to be raising cash for worthy charities and spreading the hand of friendship throughout the UK and Europe. This is not meant to be a criticism, in fact I find both fun to be a part of.

I left the site on Monday morning feeling tired, enlightened, enriched, happy to have met old friends again and to have made new ones. It must have worked for me because that bright sunny morning as I hit the road to Doncaster and let loose the 1800cc engine I felt bloody good to be alive!

Until the next time then.
Dave Sharp

Appleyard/Macadam VIP Weekend Knockhill 9-10th August 2008

We met everyone at Ripon on Saturday; it was raining just as Paul the weatherman had promised again. We were all wearing wet weather riding gear so we didn’t really care, actually we were getting used to it this year! Barry from Appleyards had arranged a weekend in the Scottish kingdom of Fife. We were to be treated as VIPs for the day by the Colin Appleyard/Macadam racing team up there at the Knockhill Race circuit. The package was to include a night in a hotel in Dunfermline which lay just 5 miles south of the circuit.

At midday we left the market square in the pouring rain joining the A1 northbound. The group consisted of Barry and Tina, Julie and myself, Brian ‘The Rotherham lounge lizard’ and Janet, ‘Stretch’ and wife Linda of Leeds last came Mr and Mrs Beck AKA the ‘The rabbit people’ from Harrogate on their cut down black German 1500.

We soon encountered heavy traffic as the rain slowed everyone, I moved to 2nd spot instead of my customary back door spot as the CBs chose today to become faulty, the problem was fixable but not here in the heavy rain on the sodden roadside. The CB is a very handy tool for Barry and I to use in group riding but today we elected to manage without it, besides we were a small group of five bikes and all were easily kept in sight by the girls using the mirrors

We stayed on the rain lashed A1 as far as Newcastle, the cars grew in number as the huge Metro shopping complex came into site at Gateshead, it looked as huge as Sheffield’s own Murderhall, oops sorry, that’s what the men round here call it! I meant to say Sheffield’s own MeadowHall. We slipped down the side of the stationary and dripping traffic and headed off at the nearby junction towards Otterburn and the A68. Instantly the volume of traffic fell away, probably because there are no shops up this road!  The rain stopped leaving us with some decent weather.  I began to see huge white knots of cloud, through the gaps I saw snippets of blue sky instead of the depressing grey screen that had sat above us up to this point. The day was getting brighter as the road and countryside opened its arms to us. We opened the throttles and leaped forward into Northumberland.

Around mid afternoon we stopped at a sleepy village pub to have tea and hot toasties, the pub went on high alert as Barry entered the place and announced our arrival, the dear old girl behind the bar has never worked as hard as she struggled to provide us with our needs. We stayed about an hour before moving on again but not before we left a couple of damp seats and a wet vestibule! I hope after this she doesn’t remember about that ‘No bikers’ sign sitting gathering dust in the cellar from the 1960’s! A few folk were outside looking at our wet steeds, one couple had been down to Lincolnshire on holiday on their green Kawasaki and were now heading back home to the suburbs of Edinburgh, they had had a great time and now were heading home, they too had full wet weather kit on but as they blew past us further up the road I saw his lady wore a pair of flimsy black and white baseball trainers, I smiled to myself as she hung on bum in the air gripping on with her ten cold blue toes…probably.

We loped along after the fizzing green machine up through the rolling Cheviot Hills, long humps and bumps made the ride fun and we were cruising along nicely along the edge of the Northumberland National Park.  Before long we passed into Scotland at the Carter Bar viewing point. A few miles further and we came across a group of BMW touring motorbikes from Italy as they explored at a leisurely pace, we slowed on twisty awkward roads to follow them until they pulled over at Jedburgh where we waved as we passed, they smiled and waved back.   Soon after we came up behind a faster moving Portuguese couple on a BMW grey cruiser, after a mile or two we left these guys behind as the road straightened, we pushed on through splendid green countryside before we began a long descent in the direction of Edinburgh down through Lauderdale. We could see in the distance the waters of the Firth of Forth and in a short while we entered the long long high street that was Dalkeith, we rode onto the A720 perimeter route around Edinburgh. The unmistakable structure of the Forth Road Bridge came into view on the hour as we headed towards it now on the M8. The Forth Railway Bridge always catches my breath as it lies solidly just hundred yards away to our right; it’s a much older, smaller but better looking structure than this modern efficient carbuncle we rode over now. “Oh look at that Julie” I said “They are painting it …again!” The signs for Dunfermline now said we should head left then Barry’s sat nav took charge and guided us through the suburbs first then onto the city’s cobbled inner streets right to the front door of our hotel just as we were ambushed from a side street by ‘Black Bart’ on his skull and cross boned adorned weathered red 1800. with him rode his menacing wife Suzi in slick black leathers on her huge Honda Valkerie, (that’s Suzi with a Zee). Their timing was Hollywood perfect.

We took the bikes round the back of the hotel as the girls dismounted to book our northern tribe in at reception. We stopped under the hotel overhang and all as one began to unzip and rip Velcro open. Barry formally introduced our ambushers as Clive and Suzi Nicholson from Aberdeen. Clive is otherwise known as ‘Black Bart’ the webmaster of the Honda Goldwing Owners Club website.  Clive is a proper biker, friendly funny and huge in stature, a real nice bloke! As for Suzi, his black leathered wife, she reminded me of that sexy rock chick Chrissie Hind of The Pretenders instead of a pout though Suzi had a huge disarming smile and lovely dark mascara’d eyes. Other Wingers came out of the hotel to greet us as we fussed around our bikes and luggage. Elaine and Russ came earlier in the day on their 1500cc red crusty bread van from Halifax. Heralding from Sheffield sprinted Lynn and John on their old but still intact 1500 purple trike, they had actually dropped in from Newcastle whilst on a short break. With everything gathered in our arms we all swished into the rear foyer with the intention of inspecting our rooms but ‘Bart’, Barry and I stopped at the bar for just a quick one….THE No 1 fatal mistake I seem to make time and time again! An hour and several pints later folk from the group began to reappear to join us at the bar.

The bar ladies in black tasked with serving had a difficult time at first understanding our loud ‘Yorksheeere’ requests, one beauty thought I was from Stoke! This really tickled Brian, I’m from up the road from him in South Yorkshire you see. He laughed loudly and said “Tha’ll do for me lass, that’s reet funny tha nose”! We stayed an hour or two here in the bar as we re-affirmed friendships and forged new ones, warming to new friends over a jar or two.

Half seven arrived at the double, it was time to sit down and enjoy some hot Scottish food. Gradually the bar filled as the evening gathered pace, in fact later on it got so noisy that some of us found ourselves in the front bar away from the Karaoke to drink and swap bike stories without having to compete with the ladies singing their all to versions of that old favourite ‘I will survive’. We sat drinking until well into ‘The Midnight Hour’ (pun intended) before the thought of retiring seemed a good idea. I now had to start the long accent up to our room. My ‘Stairway to Heaven’ so to speak (pun intended again) Julie had bagged a room high up in the heavens it came complete with sloping floor and sloping ceiling that it made me appear drunk, it was so steep I kept heading for the shower! I managed to claw my way to the bed and slept fitfully until breakfast. ‘Janet of the Falklands’ had bagged a superior room below us, unfortunately superior translated into noisy as they lay only feet above the Karaoke Bar. ‘Bart’ and Suzi found themselves unwilling listeners to a verbal altercation between some girls just feet below them at the front vestibule. High heel won’t mean the same for ‘Bart’ anymore either after this noisy night. So well done Julie for bagging us a superior room after all!

At breakfast I chose a healthy eaters nightmare, a plate loaded with bacon, sausage, baked beans, toast, spicy black pudding and haggis. It was northern lovely, none of your southern muisli and yoghurt rubbish! Slowly wingers began to appear for breakfast and once suitably awake proceeded to uncover their bikes and give them a pat and rub down before packing bags. Presently everyone made ready for the short hop to the race track. Mr Dougi Macadam of the Appleyard/Macadam race partnership greeted Barry as we made ready to leave he smiled and waved hello to everyone.

We set of in clear weather for Knockhill, we were there in twenty minutes. As VIPs we were waved through to our parking bays as one of the support races got under way. This course is smaller than any other circuit I’ve attended, it’s actually on the side of a hill and the views were expansive in fact at several places one could see most of the track. We made our way towards the paddock area and the team tents. Suddenly I heard a helicopter and looked up but couldn’t see anything, I looked behind and saw an RAF search and rescue helicopter swoop round the hillside really low, the pilot followed the contours of the land so low that I was rooted to the spot in awe as he suddenly pulled a huge hand brake turn to the left and banked high across the paddock, Oh wow! Just look at THAT! I shouted. This is the stuff that young boys see and say ‘THAT’S what I want to do when I grow up’. The crew performed a rescue exercise in the middle of the circuit and showed us what they could do, it was most impressive. The crew were promoting a huge charity event but the rotor noise drowned out what exactly was being said on the loudspeakers. They landed after some more impressive slow speed low flying manoeuvres, this being hugely important in their field of work.

We found the grey Colin Appleyard/Macadam outfit and said hello to everyone there, it’s a huge forty foot articulated truck with awnings and non slip matting. In the garage area, one 600cc and two 125cc machines sat on ramps being tended to by the men in grey. In a corner sat Robin Appleyard, a champion racer in his younger days and now the team boss, he had his nose in a laptop soaking up the technical data as usual The old grand wizard stood casting his worldly eye over everything and everybody. This was Mr Colin Appleyard, another English race ace of yesteryear. He did the TT back in the good old scary days! His boss Peggy nudged and passed a warm cuppa across to him. Meanwhile Mr Macadam in long raincoat was outside eyeing the competition. The ladies in attendance offered us guests cups of tea and chairs and made us really welcome; we dumped bike jackets and plonked down to chat and enjoy  the paddock atmosphere. Neil and Mezza Crofts had just arrived on their bike; they were on holiday here in Scotland in their Campervan and were just fifty miles away. They were wet and cold from their run down here and in need of some hot tea, its amazing how much better one feels after a cup of tea. In fact by now I was quite warm so went trackside to watch the first 600 supersport race.

The skies had just dumped several showers on the track which made things really tricky, so tricky in fact that I saw 5 riders tumble from their bikes during the race, this was to be the tempo of the day unfortunately as showers swept across the circuit, it must have been a nightmare to decide on slick, full wets, or intermediate tyres. I returned to the paddock just in time for lunch, the ladies had several microwaves on the go and hot food was on offer. Thank you very much ladies you did a great job. That’s how the day went, people meandered in and out of the paddock area as various races took place, I saw privateers sweating over engines, helpers dashing here and there pulling little carts loaded with bike tyres. Then came the colourful brolly girls, they caught ones eye naturally. They were dressed in yellow crop tops, tiny short shorts, high boots and nothing much else. Hardly the right kit for today ladies I mused to myself but jolly nice all the same! Other young ladies looked slightly warmer in their BSB figure hugging blue two toned lycra bodysuits and high heels

The paddock area is a really interesting place to just stand and watch, one could see all the various tribes getting their warriors ready for the forthcoming battle, some had bikes in bits with a mechanic or two working on them amazingly quickly getting them ready for the next battle, wives and girlfriends fluttered around with endless tea, spanners, and support. The large colourful concerns were very impressive to watch, they appeared to want for nothing except good fortune. On the other side of the coin and just as amazing were the small privately funded outfits, just two or three people working relentlessly under a gazebo lashed to an old white van. Sometimes after a spill these guys could be seen yanking grass sods from the battered fairings before tipping the bikes over to let gravel fall from the belly pan before stripping the bike to make it ready again for the next race, amazing!

Ahead of me a privateer on his bike appeared in an apparent frenzy, he was late for his race, his bike a multitude of coloured panels, his race leathers old and crinkled suddenly he yells “My gloves! I forgot my f******* gloves, go get my gloves Timmy!” Mac the mechanic took the throttle and kept the engine running, it coughed and barked as he coaxed  her to run smooth, meanwhile the young warrior fumbled feverishly with his helmet strap. Young Timmy dashed back with the forgotten gloves, the young hopeful pulled them on and weaved away down to the track through the paddock urged on with a slap on his back, one couldn’t help but feel for him. In sharp contrast a smart shiny silver/grey bike was being wheeled out nearby by two or three smartly dressed spanner men. Colin Appleyard stepped forward and pressed his hand into the youngsters palm, he quietly offered a word and held his eye for a moment as though passing some winning wisdom. I think perhaps I had just witnessed a private moment between young buck and wise mentor. I know that whatever the support and backing…or lack of it, it was apparent that all were equally fired up and full of determination.

The day quickly passed, we saw nine races altogether from various viewing points around the circuit, we split up to go see different things from different angles. It was a really exciting day and during one BSB round three bikes smashed into the fence near us and showered us spectators with small pieces of Perspex debris from their smashed bikes. The strong crash fence did its job really well, the riders though were fairly knocked about but with no serious injuries I’m told. It makes you appreciate the racers bravery and the safety measures that sometimes seem a little too protective. To put it in prospective a little, I’ve attended meetings on and off during the past thirty years and this is the first time anything like this has happened to me.

We began to disperse after the last 125cc race, the rains had finally gone and left us alone, we dressed for rain all the same!’ Bart’ and Suzi turned north for Aberdeen, Neil and Mezza turned north too for the fifty mile ride to their motor home. The rest of us rode south back over the Forth Road Bridge then onto the Edinburgh bypass before turning south onto the A7  to Galashiels. We left Brian and Janet here as they had the luxury of both being retired folk and not in need of the dash south. The A7 was a lovely ride in the fast approaching evening, the sky was calm and empty now, just as the edges were turning faintly to shades of red and purple, slowly but surely the twilight crept over us. We turned at Hawick towards Bonchester Bridge onto a nice twisty minor road to intersect the A68 at the border, looking in the mirror as we climbed I saw the most beautiful view as the dying sun dipped behind some distant fluffy knots of clouds.

The purple trike left us at Newcastle waiving and blowing kisses at 60 mph as they would also stay over an extra night.  We were now on the dark and empty A1. We took the bikes up to a pleasantly fast cruising speed for a while before stopping a few miles down the road for more fuel and hot tea. We split into an even smaller group now as two bikes pointed slowly towards Leeds and Harrogate. Barry and I parted quickly as we unleashed the full power of 1800cc’s and we rode in tandem like this until he and Tina peeled away at Ripon heading towards Keighley, we couldn’t see them, just the bikes lights as they slowed and turned to our left before disappearing from view.  Julie and I kept a swift southerly course down to Doncaster and home. I think we were probably the last to land at 12.04hrs. It was a brilliant weekend only spoilt by the thought of work in six hours time!

Lateronthen Folks.

Dave Sharp