strictest attention is needed due to all the blind rises, hairpin turns, gravel and sud- den downhill sections we encounter. On an old air-cooled Triumph twin, there would be little need to brake as you carved through the heart of the English countryside. These roads beautifully follow the contour of the land, up hill and down dale, and mostly run through the center of the small villages where front doors open onto the street. Each moment is like an invitation card to stop and explore, but we ride on. Nightfall sees us in Wales enjoying a fish supper in the garden of a bed and breakfast inn as the surrounding countryside slowly fades out of view in the advancing twilight. Today we ride for England through the
historic city of Bath, where we will do battle with tourists for photos and eat lunch in a hip restaurant. Rural country lanes will lead us south and then one last push on the motorway, where slowly the hills and val- leys coming into focus will take us home. I’ve ridden these roads a hundred times, creating a myriad of wilder motorcycle memories, but there are also moments of quieter and deeper reflection. My mother is 86 years old this year and has slowed sig- nificantly after being the charging matri- arch for so many decades. Lives have ended, marriages floundered, children grown,
people moved on. Over the next few days, Patrick and I ride
to most of my favorite places, enjoying the best English summer weather in my mem- ory. The Brits are pissing and moaning about the heat, so it’s business as usual for the locals. We ride ferryboats across the River Dart, fishing boats along the coast, then meander through the South Hams along roads barely wide enough for a small car before spending a day with my friend Wibbly and his family traveling to and across Dartmoor. Patrick and I ride the BMW, and he spends a lot of time shooting pictures as we ride. The view from the top of Haytor looks down across the area we have just been riding, with the sea a brilliant blue smudge across the horizon. We have visited sandy beaches, dined in 600-year- old buildings, visited monasteries and churches dating back over 1,000 years, and seen a good number of my friends from the formative years. Nick Roskelly, the man who built my
Laverda back in the day, has restored an old Z900, and it’s a fabulous job. Somewhat famous in these parts for his incredible Harleton, which uses a 1942 WLC 45-cubic- inch Harley engine in a 1960 Norton Wide- line Featherbed frame, it’s a sign of the times that this old biker is working on
Japanese bikes. We make a point of visiting Les Harris’ old Triumph shop at the end of the high street in my home town, where I stared in wonder at the shiny motorcycles as a boy. Harris is the man who kept Tri- umph alive for the five-year interval after Meriden closed their doors in 1983 and Hinckley opened theirs in 1988, so it’s a little ironic that his building is now an Asian convenience store. I shoot a picture of Nick’s Kawasaki in front of it for posterity. All too soon, it’s time to say goodbye and
head back to London for our return flight. We have to drop the BMW and stage up at a hotel for the night before our metal bird takes us back to America. Patrick and I have spent the last two weeks with no communi- cation devices, becoming more connected without our cell phones. We’ve played games on pad and paper, talked excitedly about the day’s ride and what’s to come, and worked in perfect harmony from photogra- phy to packing. We’ve ridden through my memories and created a whole set of new ones we can share. The world has changed and so have I, but the one conclusive thought that ties the whole journey together is that the spirit of travel and adventure made possible from the saddle of a motor- cycle is just the same as it ever was, no mat- ter what or where your ride.
Overlooking the River Dart in Devon near the Royal Dartmouth Naval College.
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BMW OWNERS NEWS May 2016
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