Newcomers to ukrm are quick to learn that it is not a politically correct forum. No joke is too sick, no swear word too offensive and no flame too crisping. However, once you've been around a little longer you learn that there are some phrases that are beyond the pale;
"Car drivers are good/courteous/well trained/better than bikers"
"It's perfectly acceptable to ride in jeans and a t-shirt"
"Newly passed DAS students should be allowed to buy R1s or Gixer thous".
Perhaps the most taboo of all phrases is "it's only worth riding for 6 months of the year". This is the phrase I am about to defend. Firstly my qualifications - I have ridden, all year round, for the past 4 years. I've ridden through rain and shine, sun and snow. Last year I even managed to
take my one-month-old bike ice-skating, with hilarious consequences. Enough is enough, though; I must make a stand and say that it is simply not worth it. There are times when it is better to take the car!
Let me paint you a picture . it's the first day of spring, the first sunny weekend in March. The ancient stirring in your blood leads you to your garage, where you uncover and dust off the sports bike that has lain dormant since last September. You check the tyres, take the battery off charge and fire her up. As she purrs happily you finish putting on your leathers.
Unencumbered by thermal underwear, thick sweaters, waterproofs, scarves, heated gloves, padded wellys and thermos of hot soup strapped to your leg you feel lightweight and ready to race.
So, you wobble off down your street, remembering immediately how much colder it always is on a bike. Still, as a RTB, you can cope with the slight chill on your arms and hands, so you head off to your favourite roads.
As you chug along your preferred highways a quick glance at the verges tells you that spring is truly here, in among the greenery is the traditional bright yellow of copper's fluorescent jackets as they hide behind bushes, smiling the self-assured smile of a traffic plod who knows they are going to make a whole year's nicking quota before tea-time. "Do you realise you were 3mph over the speed limit, sir?", "That's a very pretty end-can, sir, do you realise it is stamped 'not for road use'?", "Perhaps you didn't see me
through your black visor, sir."
Still, even if your licence has been sullied there is no reason not to enjoy your day out. Of course, you've completely forgotten how to ride at anything much beyond walking pace. You can't make use of the bone dry roads to get to your maximum lean angles anyway, because the cardigan crowd are busy moving their caravans to the Lake District, so your journey is an endless composite of wobbling through corners at 35mph and all-to-brief bursts of overtaking.
Eventually you make it to your destination - the choice biking pub of the area. You squeeze your bike into the car park, alongside the 500 other mysteriously clean sports bikes. All eyes are upon you as you arrive, do you have _the_ bike to have? The one that was proclaimed king of the roost by the bike mags this month or do you have a hopelessly old and shite model from last year? Are your leathers in this year's colour scheme? Are your knee-sliders scuffed? Does your lid have the current bizarre paint job? You start to feel guilty, why didn't you sell your bike last September so you could afford the new model? Can you live knowing that your bike is 3kg heavier and 2bhp less than the hot bike?
Ashamed you skulk into the pub and, 3 hours later, make it to the bar through the acres of eye-wateringly dazzling leather. You take your drink outside, because the crush inside is restricting your breathing, only to see that your friendly plod has turned up in the car-park, just to make sure that he gets every last race-can and under-sized plate. He looks at your pint of lager and starts fishing around for his breathalyser. Dejectedly you abandon your drink and wobble back home, on the way you see 500 other
bikers, but none of them give you a nod.
OK, so weekends are a dead loss, but you can still commute on your bike. Yes, you can have two journeys a day where you are far too hot in your leathers, but unwilling to risk less clothing during rush hours. You can experience the sheer joy of the roads being almost empty, as everybody else buggers off on their holidays, so that the bike is no quicker than the car would have been and at least in the car you'd have had air-con, a radio and the opportunity for a smoke.
It's all wrong . biking is about zipping through heavy traffic, having fun and being an individual who is also part of a fraternity of bikers. Those who, come September, start to whimper about it being too cold, too wet, too dangerous or too dirty are the ones who are missing the best 6 biking months of the year.
At the weekends the roads are quiet and unspoilt by hordes of poseur bikers and traffic cops. During the week the cars are nose to tail, trying to pretend that their heating and CD-player somehow make up for the fact they're going to be late home again. The other bikers you see are friendly, they
'll give you a cheerful nod through the pissing rain and stop to help when they see you stranded, not one of them gives a toss what you're riding or wearing. Your black visor stays at home, the fog muffles your exhaust note and the traffic plod know that if they want to nick you then they're going
to have to get out of their nice warm car and stand in the rain . too much hassle.
Most importantly though, winter is a real test of your biking skills - it no longer matters if you can wheelie or get your knee down, but you soon learn if you can handle a rear wheel slide or a lock up when you're braking. Your observation has to be the best because it's the time when car drivers are at their worst (none of this nonsense of them moving over to let you past because they're full of the joys of spring).
Every time you dismount you can feel you are a real biker, because you've used your bike for a reason, against the conditions and with consummate skill.
For all of these reasons I urge you to bike for 6 months a year, become FWO bikers . Foul Weather Only.
