Here’s the plan for 2022.
I only hope the Mrs agrees to some of it or all of it.
The above aims started off a few years ago as an after dinner joke. I don’t even remember what the question was but instantly off the top of my head that was the reply. I surprised myself but I so enjoyed the shock and horror on the face of the woman who’d asked the forgettable question, I thought it was probably a really good aim. I knew I shouldn’t have said it but I love saying what I shouldn’t. Otherwise life can be so dullllllllll.
Suffice to say, to date, I’ve failed miserably. But hey, Covid, Cancer, Covid again and house refurbs have mullered my plan but this year, this year, I’m done. I’m outahere. In fact once again the finishing line is tantalisingly close but every time before it’s moved away from me.
Very shortly I’ll be finishing the seemingly never ending build on my house and promptly selling it aaaaand retiring. Fanbloodytastic! Therefore the above aims come into play…………or not, in whatever quantities.
‘When I were a lad’ my dad always told me I was burning the candle at both ends, I loved it. What a great thing to do! Every time he laid that on me it only spurred me on more. He never knew.
In fact I’d love that on my grave stone.
‘I burnt the candle at both ends and I only regret what I didn’t do’.
And so it brings me round to the day and the year ahead.
The Great Escape.
What a great day and it came out of nowhere. Yesterday I got off the plane and the rain in Spain pissed mainly my plans. In fact it pissed on everything but today we seized the day.
A 36 hour trip to the mountains just outside Malaga in order to sort things out for an Easter holiday break. Crazy but true. It turns out as some of you might have read in a previous post of mine that hiring a car in Spain for 4 weeks is 1/4 to 1/3rd of the price than hiring for two weeks. Nuts! Just bloody nuts. So here I am, or there I was because I’m on the flight back. I hired the car, I’ve parked it for two weeks and then we’ll have the break. That is, if it goes to plan which it usually effing doesn’t!
I’d stayed with ‘Jorg the Laughing German’. Over breakfast we decided that the 40% chance of rain was worth risking, I don’t mind admitting it, we’re both fair weather biking pussies. What’s the point of going out in the rain when you don’t need to?
Laughing boy said to me
‘We-e-ll, if we don’t go today, I just don’t know when we’ll get the chance for another ride’.
It was a no brainer, my flight didn’t go ‘till 9.30 pm.
Out of nowhere I had the opportunity of an all day bike ride right next to the Mediterranean.
Out came the Monster, tyres pumped, chain lubed and off we went. Laughing boy opted to run his Honda, in case it rained on his K1200 Beemer. Fair enough, all bikes need riding.
It was probably November the last time I used this bike and that was not a good run. This time within 500m I knew the air in the tyres was as good as perfect and that last time out I must have been well under inflated. It was awful, I just had no confidence in the bike. This time it was instantly ‘like a duck to water’. The bike felt planted. I was so happy to be on a bike I punched the air madly as we went down the mountain. Jorg could see me, I knew he’d be laughing.
When we got to the bottom we pulled in for gas and both started laughing out loud, we were so happy to be out on bikes again.
95 Octane was €1.85 and I brimm€d at 17.
We cruised down the motorway towards La Heradura, (Dirty Leeds loves it there). I saw a chopper flying over with a big globe type camera hanging off the side. They were clearly out to to get some revenue and spoil our fun. I’ve seen it before, suddenly a chopper pops up from sea level and chases down a speeder. I kept to the limits which is more than I can say for a few of the car drivers. Then I saw a chopper flying low along the coast, which was exactly where we were headed. Nonetheless we still had a good run in the stretches the chopper couldn’t easily see, except for the last bit heading down to Almunecar where some slow poke British reg psudo 4WD pulled out in front of us and proceeded to crawl. Given that it was white lined and there was a chopper about and the possibility of ground crew too we had to crawl behind the numbingly slow retards. Excruciating given the bends and the racetrack smooth surface.
When we pulled up at the lights I had to lean across to the Laughing German and say;
‘ Bloody English, can’t they learn to drive’! Could have been Scots, could have been Welsh or Irish but I’d made the point and we left Mogadon man for dead when the lights turned green, not that we were going fast but it was a light year before he was good to go.
We burbled down to the beach for a Tortilla, Sin Alcohol beer and hatched a plan to head up the mountain to the disused Petrol station. I’ll check out the altitude but what the hell a petrol station was doing there in the first place I’ll never know.
It’s a really twisty road with all sorts of surfaces but a good ride. On the way I thought it was going to start raining but when I flipped up my tinted visor it didn’t look as bad as I thought. However the summer gloves were becoming inadequate. It wasn’t a choice thing, summer gloves were all I had there.
Mirador de la Cabra is the disused gas Station. Check out the bendy route up there.
When we pulled up we were at the cloud base. The pictures make it look pretty glum but it had mostly been sunny on the climb. It was so good riding up there it felt positively elec-tric!
Freedom, revs, noise, grip, lean angles, sh- sh- shheer drops, 1200cc’s of bike that only weighs 182kg dry. Add fuel, zest, insanity and it all adds up to adrenaline induced fun. There was laughter, more grins and it was another pleasure to piss over the edge of the sheer drop. Even more laughter.
Why did we go there? Because we could and within 5 minutes we were heading back down again, that’s what it was all about.
Big local 4WD’s pulled out in front of us on the descent spewing black Diseasel fumes all over the place. That and the farm fires spewing smoke over the hillside made of mockery of the electric vehicle brigade. We slipped past them at the first broken white line and went under what must be one of the tallest road bridges I’ve ever seen, which connects two sides of a valley with the Autopista Mediterranea.
Heading up the valley was a local on a 50cc two stroke. The short,boxy, swarthy, later in life ‘pilot’ was sporting all the standard safety gear.
Red check shirt, baggy grey trousers, open face helmet perched atop of his head, strap undone, fag on. Complete with the obligatory plastic bag of shopping hanging off the left handlebar and of course…no gloves.
You can find them coming out of each and every village in Spain on a fifty year old machine that has probably never been maintained because it’s never needed it.
Funny how their Mrs always looks the bleeding same.
- Ride bikes as much as possible.
- Sail yachts as much as possible.
- Have as much sex as possible.
I only hope the Mrs agrees to some of it or all of it.
The above aims started off a few years ago as an after dinner joke. I don’t even remember what the question was but instantly off the top of my head that was the reply. I surprised myself but I so enjoyed the shock and horror on the face of the woman who’d asked the forgettable question, I thought it was probably a really good aim. I knew I shouldn’t have said it but I love saying what I shouldn’t. Otherwise life can be so dullllllllll.
Suffice to say, to date, I’ve failed miserably. But hey, Covid, Cancer, Covid again and house refurbs have mullered my plan but this year, this year, I’m done. I’m outahere. In fact once again the finishing line is tantalisingly close but every time before it’s moved away from me.
Very shortly I’ll be finishing the seemingly never ending build on my house and promptly selling it aaaaand retiring. Fanbloodytastic! Therefore the above aims come into play…………or not, in whatever quantities.
‘When I were a lad’ my dad always told me I was burning the candle at both ends, I loved it. What a great thing to do! Every time he laid that on me it only spurred me on more. He never knew.
In fact I’d love that on my grave stone.
‘I burnt the candle at both ends and I only regret what I didn’t do’.
And so it brings me round to the day and the year ahead.
The Great Escape.
What a great day and it came out of nowhere. Yesterday I got off the plane and the rain in Spain pissed mainly my plans. In fact it pissed on everything but today we seized the day.
A 36 hour trip to the mountains just outside Malaga in order to sort things out for an Easter holiday break. Crazy but true. It turns out as some of you might have read in a previous post of mine that hiring a car in Spain for 4 weeks is 1/4 to 1/3rd of the price than hiring for two weeks. Nuts! Just bloody nuts. So here I am, or there I was because I’m on the flight back. I hired the car, I’ve parked it for two weeks and then we’ll have the break. That is, if it goes to plan which it usually effing doesn’t!
I’d stayed with ‘Jorg the Laughing German’. Over breakfast we decided that the 40% chance of rain was worth risking, I don’t mind admitting it, we’re both fair weather biking pussies. What’s the point of going out in the rain when you don’t need to?
Laughing boy said to me
‘We-e-ll, if we don’t go today, I just don’t know when we’ll get the chance for another ride’.
It was a no brainer, my flight didn’t go ‘till 9.30 pm.
Out of nowhere I had the opportunity of an all day bike ride right next to the Mediterranean.
Out came the Monster, tyres pumped, chain lubed and off we went. Laughing boy opted to run his Honda, in case it rained on his K1200 Beemer. Fair enough, all bikes need riding.
It was probably November the last time I used this bike and that was not a good run. This time within 500m I knew the air in the tyres was as good as perfect and that last time out I must have been well under inflated. It was awful, I just had no confidence in the bike. This time it was instantly ‘like a duck to water’. The bike felt planted. I was so happy to be on a bike I punched the air madly as we went down the mountain. Jorg could see me, I knew he’d be laughing.
When we got to the bottom we pulled in for gas and both started laughing out loud, we were so happy to be out on bikes again.
95 Octane was €1.85 and I brimm€d at 17.
We cruised down the motorway towards La Heradura, (Dirty Leeds loves it there). I saw a chopper flying over with a big globe type camera hanging off the side. They were clearly out to to get some revenue and spoil our fun. I’ve seen it before, suddenly a chopper pops up from sea level and chases down a speeder. I kept to the limits which is more than I can say for a few of the car drivers. Then I saw a chopper flying low along the coast, which was exactly where we were headed. Nonetheless we still had a good run in the stretches the chopper couldn’t easily see, except for the last bit heading down to Almunecar where some slow poke British reg psudo 4WD pulled out in front of us and proceeded to crawl. Given that it was white lined and there was a chopper about and the possibility of ground crew too we had to crawl behind the numbingly slow retards. Excruciating given the bends and the racetrack smooth surface.
When we pulled up at the lights I had to lean across to the Laughing German and say;
‘ Bloody English, can’t they learn to drive’! Could have been Scots, could have been Welsh or Irish but I’d made the point and we left Mogadon man for dead when the lights turned green, not that we were going fast but it was a light year before he was good to go.
We burbled down to the beach for a Tortilla, Sin Alcohol beer and hatched a plan to head up the mountain to the disused Petrol station. I’ll check out the altitude but what the hell a petrol station was doing there in the first place I’ll never know.
It’s a really twisty road with all sorts of surfaces but a good ride. On the way I thought it was going to start raining but when I flipped up my tinted visor it didn’t look as bad as I thought. However the summer gloves were becoming inadequate. It wasn’t a choice thing, summer gloves were all I had there.
Mirador de la Cabra is the disused gas Station. Check out the bendy route up there.
When we pulled up we were at the cloud base. The pictures make it look pretty glum but it had mostly been sunny on the climb. It was so good riding up there it felt positively elec-tric!
Freedom, revs, noise, grip, lean angles, sh- sh- shheer drops, 1200cc’s of bike that only weighs 182kg dry. Add fuel, zest, insanity and it all adds up to adrenaline induced fun. There was laughter, more grins and it was another pleasure to piss over the edge of the sheer drop. Even more laughter.
Why did we go there? Because we could and within 5 minutes we were heading back down again, that’s what it was all about.
Big local 4WD’s pulled out in front of us on the descent spewing black Diseasel fumes all over the place. That and the farm fires spewing smoke over the hillside made of mockery of the electric vehicle brigade. We slipped past them at the first broken white line and went under what must be one of the tallest road bridges I’ve ever seen, which connects two sides of a valley with the Autopista Mediterranea.
Heading up the valley was a local on a 50cc two stroke. The short,boxy, swarthy, later in life ‘pilot’ was sporting all the standard safety gear.
Red check shirt, baggy grey trousers, open face helmet perched atop of his head, strap undone, fag on. Complete with the obligatory plastic bag of shopping hanging off the left handlebar and of course…no gloves.
You can find them coming out of each and every village in Spain on a fifty year old machine that has probably never been maintained because it’s never needed it.
Funny how their Mrs always looks the bleeding same.
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, he's clearly not read the manual. 5Kg max in the top-box according to Ducati. I can see some serious high speed instability arising there.
.