Mikes Big Adventure

Friday 16th August 2002 - Day One

Everything was going well that morning. The weather forecast was great, the bike had been running great (I spent the previous day tweaking various settings, taking it for a test run and re-tweaking until I was happy that it couldnt be improved). I`d also packed, unpacked, re-packed and re-re-packed several times to make sure I had all the essentials and that they didnt affect the bikes handling too much. Heck, I even went for a 12 mile ride fully kitted up to check! I had decided a backpack, a large hold-all and the tent were too much bulk and weight so I bought two lightweight camping bags (the type you keep your sleeping bag in) from the local camping shop and reduced my luggage one more time until I was happy I had no more than I really needed. I was also careful to pack the heavier bag low down on the bike and the sleeping bag, that had hardly any weight, on top.

So, eventually it was 8am on Friday 16th August, the bike was packed and I could set off. It was a warm morning so I used a little choke, turned the key in the ignition, pressed the starter and VRRrooommm.. she was off. 535 cc`s of healthy purring energy at my command. Within seconds I noticed one of the V twin cylinders cut out, followed a few seconds by the other. Strange, I thought, she was running perfectly the day before. I quick jab of the starter button with a little more choke and she fired up again.. but not for long. Perhaps I`d got the choke setting wrong? Tried again, this time varying the amount of choke as she fired up. No, even worse until after a few attempts she`d given up firing altogether. In my neighborhood, the noise of a frustrated biker kicking hell out of his reluctant to start bike isnt really appreciated. By this time I was heavily perspiring (yeah ok, sweating like a pig on heat). Partly due to being cooked inside my winter style biker jacket and partly due to.. yeah, losing my cool. I couldn't believe what I`d done. The &$*!ing thing had run out of petrol on my drive!

By about an hour later I`d visited the local garage (that charges way over the odds for their petrol) with a can and topped up the Virago tank. This time she started and stayed started. Another round of goodbyes to the family and at last.. I was away! An hour and half behind schedule and I still had to fill the tank. I worked out the local garage had charged me about 20% more than anywhere else - good thing I only got a gallon from there but the biggest mental kick in the butt was for not filling up at the supermarket petrol station the night before. After topping the tank up at the nearest major petrol station I was finally on my way. The motorway was sparsely dotted with early morning "on my way to work" traffic, my mp3 cd player turned up, earphones firmly plugged in my earholes, the sun gently rising to my left - sheer bliss! I`d previously found I could go 100 miles on the Virago before needing to look for petrol again. This meant my next stop was somewhere in the center of Birmingham and, since I`d planned to leave the motorway there and join the more picturesque "A" roads, that suited me fine.

Somewhere south of Birmingham and north of Stratford upon Avon I hit the magical "100" mark and started to look for petrol. 105 miles, 110.. Uhooh have to switch to reserve anytime I thought.. 115... 117.. Aah a petrol station and nearby Burger King - how convenient and still didn't need to switch to reserve! Filled the bike tank (about £5.00 for Tesco unleaded) and filled my stomach, (about £5.00 for BK Veggie meal "Would you like to make it large for an extra 50p sir?" - need you ask?!), had 20 minutes rest and set off again but this time at a more leisurely pace through the lovely Midlands countryside. I hadnt realized that Shakespeares birthplace was on my route so I looked forward to maybe stopping long enough to take a photo or two. I also didn't realize just how big a place Stratford is! It must have been an hour later that I was passing through the town center, across the beautiful river Avon with its rowing boats for hire, quaint thatched cottages each side and graceful swans basking in the midday sunshine. Alas, time was slipping by and I was still behind schedule for my next planned stop, Oxford, which was about 30 or 40 miles further on. I`d hoped to be there by 1pm at the latest but only arrived at 3pm. Regrettably, the photo stop had to be missed but the place has left a lasting impression, maybe one day I`ll return!

My first official visit was to my friends, Richard and his son Eddy, who live in a small village called Dorchester on Thames. The name makes the place sound grand, but picture a scattering of those model houses, post office, shops etc that you used to make cut out from the back of a cornflakes packet and you have Dorchester on Thames. Tiny whitewashed houses with thick thatched rooves, edged with stone walled gardens that are packed with rose bushes make this village so typically old time English. The charm was magnetic and held me in its grasp for an hour over what I`d expected to stay. It was great to meet Richard and Eddy, even though we`ve been friends for about a year or more this was the first time I`d visited them "on their own turf" and was made to feel most welcome - thanks Richard and Eddy!

I`d planned to avoid motorway as much as possible for the whole tour but seeing as I was now about two hours behind schedule I decided to use the M40 into London and to my next stop. Actually the road I intended to use, the A40, runs parallel with the M40 but I expected I could travel a lot faster and hopefully make up some time in the process. I got into London much quicker than expected but was a little worried that again the fuel level was getting low, mileometer reading 100, and no petrol station in sight. The last 20 miles or so into London must be downhill, because with a gentle wind behind me and holding back on the throttle I made it to the next petrol stop. 117 miles on the counter again! Another £5 something of fuel and a contented feeling that I`d made it and I was away yet again.

I figured my next visit, to my Dads grave in Hendon, north London would mean I was two thirds through my journey. Either my route planning had been meticulous or something paranormal had been guiding me I don't know what... On every occasion Id been to visit my Dad, either to his grave or to his house nearby I had never once made it without getting very lost! This time I stopped a half mile or so short just to check my map. I couldnt believe I was right on track so I stopped the first passer by just to confirm I was heading in the right direction. "Yeah mate, up there, round the corner, on a bit and youre there". Now, I`ve visited my Dads grave about four or five times in the nine years since he died and struggled each time to find the place. This time I went straight there. I must add there are hundreds of similar graves in that cemetery and his was right at the back, of course, since he died more graves have been added, meaning pinpointing his becomes more and more difficult. Its odd, I rode my bike slowly to the area I thought I should start looking, got off then strolled in the general direction, stopping at one grave I thought I`d use as a marker. It was my Dads grave.

Time was really getting on. I spent half an hour in the peace and quiet of the cemetery, phoned home, forwarded a message to my last stop to say I was running late then after a quick check of my map set off through teatime London. I`ve never seen so much heavy congestion! There was so much traffic and so many roadworks, it was like they were competing for supreme ownership of the highways! Sadly, it looked like the roadworks were winning. Then, passing a large roadwork to my left and a bus on my right going in the opposite direction I was met head on by a "sirens blaring, blue lights flashing" ambulance. There were so many vehicles blocking my view and so much other noise I couldn't tell exactly where the ambulance was until too late. Worst part was there was no space for either of us to continue so I had to "leg paddle" my 400lbs motorbike backwards for about two car lengths until I could pull in to let him pass - so embarrassing! Apologies, ambulance driver.

It took two hours to ride from north London to south London, a distance of about 20 miles. Previously, in two hours I`d been travelling at least a hundred miles on the "A" roads and motorways, I was even more behind schedule. Finally out of London I had about 60 miles to go and about the same number of miles remaining before I had to find petrol. I decided since I was already late, and my final stop had been called to say I was late it was no point rushing. I figured being out on the road for 10 hours with maybe another two hours to go, nighttime darkness rapidly falling, being tired and the bike having enough petrol to arrive without having to stop if I stuck to cruising speed (60mph) I should be wise and play safe. Id been warned that the motorway (M2) was undergoing major roadworks but this was night time and there was little traffic about so I took that route. What a lonely place it was too! For the 50 miles or so of its length most of it was only lit by moonlight, there were very few cars, relatively speaking (or maybe it just seemed that way after the hectic mess through London) and very few landmarks should I need to stop and tell someone, (recovery services - for me not the bike, I was knackered!!!), where I was.

At long, long last I arrived in Herne Bay. A small resort town nestled in the south east coast. It was 9.30pm and time to check my map for the street that my friend Gary lived in. I had a mental picture of the layout of the roads in Herne Bay and remembered there was one prominent roundabout near his street. I didn`t stop until I got to a roundabout which was just a little further in the distance. A good landmark to pinpoint my place on the map I thought. It turned out to be the same roundabout that led to his street! A swift right turn and I was heading up to his house. I wondered what kind of greeting I`d receive as I rang Garys doorbell. A moment later and there he was.. "I`m impressed!", he grinned from ear to ear as he welcomed me in. "Bring your bike in, take your jacket off, I`ve already ordered tea". Oh what a lovely warm welcome. I felt a little uncomfortable that I was so late but it didn't matter to my host Gary and his wife Jackie. My face was numb, my head was empty, my back was aching but it felt so good to have got to my destination. Gary and Jackie treated me like the prodigal son. I was washed, changed and tucking into veggie curry and rice with poppadums and onion bahjis and listening to their cheery voices before long. It was the most satisfying feeling I`ve had in ages. Again, I`ve known Gary for a year or so and have met him and his wife before but never at their own home. I related the days events the best I could for a person that was drained of energy then made my last journey of the day - to bed!