And there are about ten bikers in the pub.
Reason? Well, the roads were a bit damp, and it was dark, and it's getting cold, and it had rained earlier, and ...
We're a Motorcycle Club, guys. We ride bikes. The clue is in the name.
Showing posts with label tomcc. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tomcc. Show all posts
Tuesday, 19 October 2010
Wimps
This evening, I go to the Triumph Owners' Motorcycle Club branch meeting in the pub in a village nearby. And when I get there, I think I am the only one attending, because there are no bikes in the car park.
And there are about ten bikers in the pub.
Reason? Well, the roads were a bit damp, and it was dark, and it's getting cold, and it had rained earlier, and ...
We're a Motorcycle Club, guys. We ride bikes. The clue is in the name.
And there are about ten bikers in the pub.
Reason? Well, the roads were a bit damp, and it was dark, and it's getting cold, and it had rained earlier, and ...
We're a Motorcycle Club, guys. We ride bikes. The clue is in the name.
Sunday, 26 September 2010
Winter Is On Its Way
You can tell winter is coming. Today's rideout was a total of two bikes and three people. I met Andy and his girlfriend Ann in the Propellers Café at Withybush Airfield and had a hearty (or heart-stopping) breakfast. And then we went for a ride round the coast of North Pembrokeshire. A visit to St Davids, coffee in Goodwick, and a return over the lovely Preseli Hills.
It was a glorious day, the kind you often get at this time of year, with bright sunshine for the most part, and a clear atmosphere that made the views spectacular. Everything - ships out at sea, distant hillsides, the glint of the far-off estuary - seemed to be within touching distance. But the air was cold. I wore my trusty leather jacket with a hoodie underneath and a pair of thin jeans. By the time I got home mid-afternoon about 70 miles later, I was chilled to the bone.
Next time, it will be the textile suit with the thermal lining.
I fully intend to ride through the winter, as I always have done, but I suspect that I will be rather lonely on some of the days out. Some of the TOMCC are talking about laying bikes up for the winter, and when we discussed a possible trip to the Triumph factory at Hinckley, or even the new Norton works at Donington Park, there was a lot of support for hiring a minibus.
Guys, this is a bike club. We travel on motorcycles. The clue is in the name. The 'MC' in TOMCC stands for 'motorcycle', not 'mini-coach'. OK, 500 miles there and back in January is a bit of a test of character, but for heaven's sake.
I can see myself riding alone for much of the time this winter.
Wimps.
It was a glorious day, the kind you often get at this time of year, with bright sunshine for the most part, and a clear atmosphere that made the views spectacular. Everything - ships out at sea, distant hillsides, the glint of the far-off estuary - seemed to be within touching distance. But the air was cold. I wore my trusty leather jacket with a hoodie underneath and a pair of thin jeans. By the time I got home mid-afternoon about 70 miles later, I was chilled to the bone.
Next time, it will be the textile suit with the thermal lining.
I fully intend to ride through the winter, as I always have done, but I suspect that I will be rather lonely on some of the days out. Some of the TOMCC are talking about laying bikes up for the winter, and when we discussed a possible trip to the Triumph factory at Hinckley, or even the new Norton works at Donington Park, there was a lot of support for hiring a minibus.
Guys, this is a bike club. We travel on motorcycles. The clue is in the name. The 'MC' in TOMCC stands for 'motorcycle', not 'mini-coach'. OK, 500 miles there and back in January is a bit of a test of character, but for heaven's sake.
I can see myself riding alone for much of the time this winter.
Wimps.
Sunday, 8 August 2010
St Govan's Chapel
When the TOMCC goes for a day ride, it's usually Northwards into the interesting twisty bits of mid-Wales. Today, for a change, we headed into South Pembrokeshire. We hit lucky with the weather. After a few days of rain, and then a few days of cloudy drizzle, today we had warm sunshine and dryness. Perfect for a bit of recreational bend-swinging and bicyclical tomfoolery.
We met in Propellers Café at Withybush airfield, where the others had a Full English and I nursed a black coffee (Anna had done boiled eggs and toast at home, and declining it would have been an act of war). We meandered about and ended up at the beach at Freshwater West, where we had ice-creams for lunch. Mine fell onto the floor, but I didn't cry, not at all. Really. I was prepared to write it down to experience, but our Secretary, Joanna, marched back to the van and got me a new one. Sometimes women handle these things so much better.
Freshwater West. Pembrokeshire is fantastic in the sunshine.
A trio of Bonnies.
We then moved on to St Govan's Head. There is a famous chapel (St Govan's Chapel) built into the base of the cliffs here. It's quite a structure, using natural clefts in the rock and additional stonework to create a small but useable chapel nestling in a ravine about half way between the cliff top and the sea. There is no record of a St Govan, but the theory is that his name may be a corruption of Gawain, and that he was the Knight of the Round Table who came here to see out his days after the death of Arthur. Legend has it that the ravine in which the chapel is built will open and close to hide Govan from his enemies. Legend also has it that the steps down to the chapel cannot be counted. (There's a similar legend about the steps up to the church in Whitby associated with the Dracula story, and many others.) I didn't try to count them, so we will never know, but the old legs were a bit sore by the time I got back to the top of the cliff.
View from the chapel.
St Govan's Chapel.
We then split up and made our separate ways home. A short day (only about 65 miles compared to the usual 200), but a very pleasant way to spend a summer Sunday in a lovely County.
We met in Propellers Café at Withybush airfield, where the others had a Full English and I nursed a black coffee (Anna had done boiled eggs and toast at home, and declining it would have been an act of war). We meandered about and ended up at the beach at Freshwater West, where we had ice-creams for lunch. Mine fell onto the floor, but I didn't cry, not at all. Really. I was prepared to write it down to experience, but our Secretary, Joanna, marched back to the van and got me a new one. Sometimes women handle these things so much better.
Freshwater West. Pembrokeshire is fantastic in the sunshine.
A trio of Bonnies.
We then moved on to St Govan's Head. There is a famous chapel (St Govan's Chapel) built into the base of the cliffs here. It's quite a structure, using natural clefts in the rock and additional stonework to create a small but useable chapel nestling in a ravine about half way between the cliff top and the sea. There is no record of a St Govan, but the theory is that his name may be a corruption of Gawain, and that he was the Knight of the Round Table who came here to see out his days after the death of Arthur. Legend has it that the ravine in which the chapel is built will open and close to hide Govan from his enemies. Legend also has it that the steps down to the chapel cannot be counted. (There's a similar legend about the steps up to the church in Whitby associated with the Dracula story, and many others.) I didn't try to count them, so we will never know, but the old legs were a bit sore by the time I got back to the top of the cliff.
View from the chapel.
St Govan's Chapel.
We then split up and made our separate ways home. A short day (only about 65 miles compared to the usual 200), but a very pleasant way to spend a summer Sunday in a lovely County.
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