Mutch’s diary Throttle cables and anniversaries


Did you know that Africa is so big that you could fit the USA, China and Europe inside it? If that doesn’t surprise you, get this – Wales is bigger than Africa. Heading for the Aberystwyth Show, I left Glastonbury at 1010 and crossed the Severn at 1115. “Almost there,” I thought as I spied my first Welsh sign welcoming me to the land of dragons, wizards and elastic tarmac. By the time I rolled into the Aberystwyth Rugby Club it was 1830. I’d missed the ride out and the custom show on the seafront and everything apart from the evening bash which I am slightly embarrassed to say I just wasn’t up for. Substantial beer consumption is incompatible with getting this magazine out on time and the last couple of weeks before the presses roll have to be alcohol light if decent progress is to be made. In consequence I rode out to Nick Sanders’


new adventure centre near Machynlleth that offered internet and fine cuisine courtesy of Dr Caroline. Caroline’s son Max was there and now has a MAG membership form as do Lee and Kerri from MCN who were also enjoying the splendid hospitality of the circumnavigational loon and ‘Ab Fab’ Caroline. Next day I returned to the rugby club for


the Welsh MAG AGM after which I headed for home where I arrived late on Monday. I am in my new house now which is wonderful, offering views of the Tor and Wearyall Hill from the loft that has become the new home of The Road magazine. Earlier in the month I’d dropped in on the Birmingham demo which I addressed before riding on to Chinnor Bike Dayz where I found Deputy Chairman Jon Wilmer dressed as an outrageous hippy. Complete with phony giant spliff and flared strides, he mounted the stage to address the crowd. “Forty years ago, long before some of you


were even born; MAG was formed in someone’s living room, and this man,” he gestured expansively with the make believe spliff, “was there!” I looked around to see who he was talking about and was horrified to realise that it was me. Clearly time, in common with the Welsh roads, has become elastic and ceased to hold much meaning since I am really only 25. I played along with this insane fantasy by talking to the assembly after which I was marched off for a glass of real ale. A good chap called Al from Scotland fed


me from his family barbecue and joined MAG on the spot after I produced a membership form. Greetings sir. Rewind a couple of weeks and I was heading for The Farmyard Party with the splendid Jane from Cornwall. My throttle cable had broken on the way due to my


The editor tweets: @IanMutch


‘The defeat of a few


misguided


bureaucrats is utter


child’s play’


stupidity (see article page 54) but MAG Rescue sorted me out a treat. If you are looking at services like breakdown, travel cover, credit cards and insurance; please look at the deals MAG has on offer. After the Farmyard weather we are looking at plugging a funding shortfall hung over from last year’s rain-sodden events and a mass take up of the business affinity deals would be a big help. That aside they are pretty good deals. My thanks to the King Arthur pub in Benedict St who looked after my bike for a week. It had stood outside for a while as I’d had no garage where I was staying and one morning I discovered that the back end had been pulled out. This worried me and the same day I got an email from Somerset police warning me of a spate of thefts in the county. I suspect a roaming band of miscreants. The Arthur crew may well have saved my most travelled bike from the clutches of vermin. To have survived Al Qaeda in Mali and been robbed by bike thieves in Blighty would have been a tad ironic. The Arthur is a great pub by the way and features much live music. I saw the great minstrel Mark Kelly there and a bloke called Chris Jagger whose brother has banged out a few passable numbers. The barmaids are


gorgeous, there’s a good garden and the pub is home to a huge hound called Ravi who is wonderful. And so back to the Farmyard where a new cable courtesy of Warr’s Harley-Davidson arrived almost before I did. Warr’s can always be relied on to come up with the goods. After Farmyard it was down to Crowle in Lincolnshire to the home of an old seafaring mate, Al. Al drove me in his van to London to collect a ton of books from my flat. On then to Glastonbury to unload and sleep, then back to Crowle before heading for Blackpool. Sadly I’d lost my padlock keys in the confusion and we had to take an angle grinder to the chain. Liberated yet again I headed over the Pennines to fetch up in Blackpool for the official MAG 40th party, courtesy of North West MAG. I’d begun to wonder if I would live my whole life without ever visiting Blackpool; now I know the answer. A splendid night during which I made a speech from the stage, though apparently I was supposed to have made it the day before. I have to say I was flattered by the words of those who approached me to thank me for all the work I’ve done over the years on behalf of motorcycling. It’s too much of a cliche to say I was humbled but it did feel slightly odd and even a tad guilty. The truth is I have only ever done exactly what I have wanted to do. From the day some snivelling do-gooders started telling me what was best for me I got angry and I guess a little obsessive. Today I find myself in the happy situation of enjoying a career born of that obsession and I am grateful to all the members who have made that possible. Some people get jaded from too long an association with a cause but I find the opposite. The older I get the more ambitious I become as I realise how much is possible if only people have confidence and turn away from negativity and defeatism. There are many tricky problems in the world, like over-population and resource depletion. Compared to these issues the defeat of a few misguided bureaucrats is utter child’s play and yet too many shake their heads and whinge about politicians never listening to them. Take a look at the campaigns section in this


issue to read more on this. The people who succeed in this world are the people who know what they want and go after it with confidence and unwavering commitment. Of course you need to value what it is you are after and I reckon the fun and freedom of riding motorcycles is well worth fighting for. It was in 1973 and it is today. Time to ride. Ian ‘am I there yet’ Mutch


The ROAD 5


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