I’d tottered around the local lanes on the bonnie, wobbling a little and getting a feel for its performance. I was gaining confidence steadily, the power delivery of the 790cc motor never really threatening, more smooth and compliant. Just how I wanted it to be. The bonnie’s lines, beautiful, I couldn’t help but admire it. To this day I still don’t think there is a better looking bike on the road than a bonnie.
I’d persuaded my long standing girlfriend (as she was back then) to buy some bike kit and become my ‘pillion candy’. Resplendent in her new gear, including a beautifully tailored Belstaff leather jacket, she looked the part. The initial trials of riding two up had gone well. We discovered that holding the rear grab rail produced an unnerving bounce at the back of the bonnie around sweeping bends. Best to lean forward and wrap your arms around the rider, ‘old style’, more intimate, we both preferred it. The pillion soon learned to relax and go with the flow, leaning with the bike when needed. With rising confidence as a ‘threesome’ it wasn’t long before we were planning our adventure.
The day arrived and the ruc-sack was packed full to bursting. All manner of items it contained. It was heavy and I worried that my girl would struggle with its weight. She insisted that she would be ok. The practicality of panniers had not reached us at this point in our biking lives and we had completely over packed to err on the side of caution. Never mind, nothing could stop us now, and so we set off – two biking ‘newbies’ – excited at the day ahead.
The distance worried us both. I had never covered so much mileage on a bike and ‘two up’ it was even more daunting. We pressed on though, we’d both watched ‘Long Way Round’.
I remember it being a beautiful summer’s morning. Clear, crisp and with prospects of warmth ahead. I concentrated on the road, very steady, no overtaking – I wasn’t ready for that just yet. My pillion relaxed, the odd squeeze letting me know that she was still there, safe and enjoying herself. With the road sweeping ahead, the sun starting to shine and the bonnie purring everything felt just right. Any worries or concerns melted away. I smiled gently within my helmet, the hours spent on a dodgy 125cc on cold winter’s nights, before my test, all seemed worth it now.
We stopped at a garage. I topped up the tank but in fairness this was our planned rest stop. We stood around for a while, stretched our legs and grinned at each other with gabbled and rushed conversation of the initial sights, sounds and feelings of part one of our adventure. The bonnie glinting in the sunlight, surrounded by numerous other bikes all stopping to take fuel before heading for the same destination. Rest taken we knew it was time to press on. We turned back onto the road.
A while later we neared our destination. I stared to feel nervous now. I was sharing my personal patch of road with numerous other bikes. Huge powerful sportsbikes, giant tourers, nakeds, street fighters and the odd classic. All their riders had to be more experienced than I. I was tense and I could feel a tighter grip around my waist. You know how it is – the fear of making a fool of yourself around peers. Let’s just say that I was a little over careful, there was no way I was going to have a low speed spill or drop the bike in the middle of a pack. In fairness the organization at the venue was really smooth and it wasn’t long before we were parking up in a mass of bikes. We’d arrived safely at Silverstone for a round of the British Superbike Championship. Helmets off we grinned at each other and we still had the journey home to go!!
Why do I reminisce? Well last weekend we rode out again to Silverstone as we have done numerous times since that initial adventure. Things are though somewhat different now. The preparation was minimal. I booked the tickets a week before, the ruc sack was packed on the morning of the journey and there was no fuel stop, after all Silverstone is only an hour and a half away. My pillion long since graduated to her own bike and the newbie persona has long since receded.
What did remain though were two important aspects of that first adventure. The ride down to Silverstone was wonderful, emptyish roads with a few glimpses of sunlight coupled with the odd overtake. Sometimes it all just clicks naturally into place. This was one of those occasions. Perhaps more than the ride though was the sense of excitement that preceded our outing. With our recent change in lifestyle and the arrival of little Libby we hadn’t managed to get out of the bikes together for a long time. With Nan and Grandpa kindly babysitting for us we had a day to get to know our bikes again. A wonderful sense of anticipation abounded both before the outward and return journey.
And the racing at Silverstone? Well you can’t ask for more than a clean sweep of all the podium places at both races of the home round of the World Superbike Championship can you?
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