Tales from a Motorcycle Saddle.

Tales from a Motorcycle Saddle.

"One Man and His Velo"

Day 8: The Long Ride Home

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Saturday, 6th July 1991

I awoke feeling a little unenthusiastic about my journey home. I had tried to mentally prepare for today by trying to convince myself that this day is as important a day as the rest had been. The trip would not be complete until I reached Chelmsford, still 300 miles away. What I did not like was that today had a target, unlike the others with the exception of Day 1 to my cousin's. My lack of enthusiasm was probably responsible for my late start at 8.15 this morning. The weather was dry, warm and with some cloud. I made another one when I started the bike. I rejoined the A390 and rode off, the sun facing me. The A390 joined the A38 near Liskeard and was dual carriageway. The progress was slow due to the strong headwind which yesterday was my friend and today my enemy.

My cruising speed was 10 m.p.h. down on yesterday morning. I was lucky to see over 40 m.p.h. on the level, and hills reduced me to 30. It was going to be a long day. The road was very busy, mainly with holiday makers returning home. I felt conscious of my lack of speed as vehicles crowded closely behind and overtook furiously. I felt ill at ease as I sought to come to terms with the situation. I stopped for petrol near Plymouth and left the A38 for the A386. At Yelverton I took the 83212 across Dartmoor. The traffic conditions did not alter but the scenery was more attractive. The thirty miles to Exeter passed surprisingly quickly, probably due to the more pleasant surroundings. Dartmoor was no substitute for Scotland though.

I caught up with an Army lorry; one of the elderly high Bedfords that the Army appear to have so many of. Under the canvas tilt I could see bodies in various slumped positions. One was side on to the rear of the lorry , sitting in a semi upright position, the head lolling around in a most uncomfortable manner. Another to the right had his left leg hanging over the tailboard. A third, on the left was sitting higher and unconscious of everything around him. He was also oblivious to the fact that, from where I was, he looked mighty precarious as if one bump would pitch him out. A fourth, visible from behind the first, stirred, gazed vacantly towards me and collapsed from view. I wondered how many hours their training session had been going on for. I found the sight strangely compelling and was grateful when the lorry pulled away from me. The day was warming up considerably and the wind had not relented. Past Exeter I took to the A30 again. It was very busy in both directions, so I tried to grin and bear it. At Honiton I decided I needed a break. I found the town busy but friendly. I walked down the High Street and back, stopping to buy a blouse for Lynn from which I forgot to remove the price before I gave it to her. As I left Honiton I turned right on to the A35 to avoid the dense traffic of the A30. It was mostly successful. My log read: A30 -Poor driving, which was not so noticeable now, as the A35 took me through Axminster, Bridport and Dorchester, the last appearing to be quite an attractive town.

As I proceeded at around 40 m.p.h. a black dot appeared at eye level and a second later a large bee hit the windscreen with a resounding thwack. It reminded me of the question: "What is the last thing that goes through a fly's mind when it hits your car windscreen at 70 m.p.h?" Answer: "Its behind."

I stopped again for refreshment, this time blackcurrant. As I checked the oil, a Gold Wing glided by, the rider doing a thumbs up sign, twice, which I took as "O.K. ?" rather than "O.K.!" Yes, thank you, all is fine. A few miles on, I changed to the A354, round Blandford Forum and towards Salisbury. A quick stop for petrol and I was away again. I was as hot as I was on Thursday, as I faced the sun. It moved round to my right during the day but its presence was always felt. At Salisbury I rode along the A338 until it joined the A303 past Andover, towards the M3. Some miles back I saw a sign, LONDON 85M. 85 miles + 40 = 125, divided by 30 equals just over four hours to home, I worked out. E. T.A. 7.30. But wait, I still had the pleasures of London riding to come yet. The road had become the A30 again as I passed Basingstoke, Camberley, Staines and Hounslow. The traffic was surprisingly slow moving and I was able to stay in the centre of the lane. From below the car I was following, appeared a raised square manhole cover. The road surface had been stripped, leaving obstructions like these for the unwary two or three wheeler. I stood up, thinking that this is the big one, the one that no laden L.E. is going to survive. We hit it with a resounding crash and I felt the bike buck below me. We hit the ground the other side, bouncing furiously. Nothing broke or fell off. I did the same in the dark on my Vespa 90 many years ago and was not so lucky as the rear suspension leg was torn from the mounting. When I telephoned the council next day, the lady I spoke to was heard to say "Another one!". A solicitor friend told me to include the term "gross negligence" in my claim. It worked as the Council paid for the repair.
At 6pm I stopped, phoned home and gave them my revised E. T.A., now 8pm. Lynn had arrived home at 4pm and was waiting to start on the spread that Jan had prepared. I told them to start without me. I crossed Kew Bridge without noticing it and chose the North Circular in preference to Central London. The heat was still great and I looked forward to arriving home and having a shower. I then hit my first traffic jam of the trip. Two lanes of traffic stretched as far as the eye could see, but I was able to select first gear and ride carefully down the middle, doing my utmost to avoid door mirrors. Tempers could easily flare in these conditions. Pretty soon I joined the A12 and I was on the final leg. Chelmsford was reassuringly familiar and at 8pm I arrived at our gate. It was closed and had the Lands End banner across it, decorated with balloons. A quick toot brought Tom, Jan and Lynn out. Tom went to his car and from the ageing Morris Marina came Jim Reeves singing "Welcome Home" at distortion level.

Photographs were taken and the journey was over. Eight days, 2118 miles completed, 311 today. I felt weary but elated and we all had our stories to tell. Lynn spoke of the Dartmoor pony biting Carol's rear, Jan spoke of the Scottish neighbour-but-one who came round the worse for drink, to find out what the banner was all about. He thought it wonderful. "Nothing's happened like this in our road before", he remarked, before tottering off, to return with his bottle of whisky. Despite the tiredness, sleep was elusive that night, mainly due to the heat in the house. "Oh for the fresh air of the campsite", I thought.

The next day I went to church, on the Velo of course, and spent the rest of the day engaged in oil changing, general pottering about and starting the procedures for collecting the money. In total Ł1,465 was raised, nearly five times what I had hoped for. I had had one of the most enjoyable weeks of my life and in reply to the question many have asked, "Yes, I would do it again."

Mileage completed today: 311 Grand Total: 2,118

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	Tales from a Motorcycle Saddle.		"One Man and His Velo" Day 8: The Long Ride Home
Home Page Next page Return to Intro of this story			Saturday, 6th July 1991
I awoke feeling a little unenthusiastic about my journey home. I had tried to mentally prepare for today by trying to convince myself that this day is as important a day as the rest had been. The trip would not be complete until I reached Chelmsford, still 300 miles away. What I did not like was that today had a target, unlike the others with the exception of Day 1 to my cousin's. My lack of enthusiasm was probably responsible for my late start at 8.15 this morning. The weather was dry, warm and with some cloud. I made another one when I started the bike. I rejoined the A390 and rode off, the sun facing me. The A390 joined the A38 near Liskeard and was dual carriageway. The progress was slow due to the strong headwind which yesterday was my friend and today my enemy.
		My cruising speed was 10 m.p.h. down on yesterday morning. I was lucky to see over 40 m.p.h. on the level, and hills reduced me to 30. It was going to be a long day. The road was very busy, mainly with holiday makers returning home. I felt conscious of my lack of speed as vehicles crowded closely behind and overtook furiously. I felt ill at ease as I sought to come to terms with the situation. I stopped for petrol near Plymouth and left the A38 for the A386. At Yelverton I took the 83212 across Dartmoor. The traffic conditions did not alter but the scenery was more attractive. The thirty miles to Exeter passed surprisingly quickly, probably due to the more pleasant surroundings. Dartmoor was no substitute for Scotland though.
I caught up with an Army lorry; one of the elderly high Bedfords that the Army appear to have so many of. Under the canvas tilt I could see bodies in various slumped positions. One was side on to the rear of the lorry , sitting in a semi upright position, the head lolling around in a most uncomfortable manner. Another to the right had his left leg hanging over the tailboard. A third, on the left was sitting higher and unconscious of everything around him. He was also oblivious to the fact that, from where I was, he looked mighty precarious as if one bump would pitch him out. A fourth, visible from behind the first, stirred, gazed vacantly towards me and collapsed from view. I wondered how many hours their training session had been going on for. I found the sight strangely compelling and was grateful when the lorry pulled away from me. The day was warming up considerably and the wind had not relented. Past Exeter I took to the A30 again. It was very busy in both directions, so I tried to grin and bear it. At Honiton I decided I needed a break. I found the town busy but friendly. I walked down the High Street and back, stopping to buy a blouse for Lynn from which I forgot to remove the price before I gave it to her. As I left Honiton I turned right on to the A35 to avoid the dense traffic of the A30. It was mostly successful. My log read: A30 -Poor driving, which was not so noticeable now, as the A35 took me through Axminster, Bridport and Dorchester, the last appearing to be quite an attractive town.
		As I proceeded at around 40 m.p.h. a black dot appeared at eye level and a second later a large bee hit the windscreen with a resounding thwack. It reminded me of the question: "What is the last thing that goes through a fly's mind when it hits your car windscreen at 70 m.p.h?" Answer: "Its behind."
I stopped again for refreshment, this time blackcurrant. As I checked the oil, a Gold Wing glided by, the rider doing a thumbs up sign, twice, which I took as "O.K. ?" rather than "O.K.!" Yes, thank you, all is fine. A few miles on, I changed to the A354, round Blandford Forum and towards Salisbury. A quick stop for petrol and I was away again. I was as hot as I was on Thursday, as I faced the sun. It moved round to my right during the day but its presence was always felt. At Salisbury I rode along the A338 until it joined the A303 past Andover, towards the M3. Some miles back I saw a sign, LONDON 85M. 85 miles + 40 = 125, divided by 30 equals just over four hours to home, I worked out. E. T.A. 7.30. But wait, I still had the pleasures of London riding to come yet. The road had become the A30 again as I passed Basingstoke, Camberley, Staines and Hounslow. The traffic was surprisingly slow moving and I was able to stay in the centre of the lane. From below the car I was following, appeared a raised square manhole cover. The road surface had been stripped, leaving obstructions like these for the unwary two or three wheeler. I stood up, thinking that this is the big one, the one that no laden L.E. is going to survive. We hit it with a resounding crash and I felt the bike buck below me. We hit the ground the other side, bouncing furiously. Nothing broke or fell off. I did the same in the dark on my Vespa 90 many years ago and was not so lucky as the rear suspension leg was torn from the mounting. When I telephoned the council next day, the lady I spoke to was heard to say "Another one!". A solicitor friend told me to include the term "gross negligence" in my claim. It worked as the Council paid for the repair. At 6pm I stopped, phoned home and gave them my revised E. T.A., now 8pm. Lynn had arrived home at 4pm and was waiting to start on the spread that Jan had prepared. I told them to start without me. I crossed Kew Bridge without noticing it and chose the North Circular in preference to Central London. The heat was still great and I looked forward to arriving home and having a shower. I then hit my first traffic jam of the trip. Two lanes of traffic stretched as far as the eye could see, but I was able to select first gear and ride carefully down the middle, doing my utmost to avoid door mirrors. Tempers could easily flare in these conditions. Pretty soon I joined the A12 and I was on the final leg. Chelmsford was reassuringly familiar and at 8pm I arrived at our gate. It was closed and had the Lands End banner across it, decorated with balloons. A quick toot brought Tom, Jan and Lynn out. Tom went to his car and from the ageing Morris Marina came Jim Reeves singing "Welcome Home" at distortion level.
Photographs were taken and the journey was over. Eight days, 2118 miles completed, 311 today. I felt weary but elated and we all had our stories to tell. Lynn spoke of the Dartmoor pony biting Carol's rear, Jan spoke of the Scottish neighbour-but-one who came round the worse for drink, to find out what the banner was all about. He thought it wonderful. "Nothing's happened like this in our road before", he remarked, before tottering off, to return with his bottle of whisky. Despite the tiredness, sleep was elusive that night, mainly due to the heat in the house. "Oh for the fresh air of the campsite", I thought.
The next day I went to church, on the Velo of course, and spent the rest of the day engaged in oil changing, general pottering about and starting the procedures for collecting the money. In total Ł1,465 was raised, nearly five times what I had hoped for. I had had one of the most enjoyable weeks of my life and in reply to the question many have asked, "Yes, I would do it again."

Mileage completed today: 311 Grand Total: 2,118