The Good Samaritan

5 June 2010.

“For God’s sake!”

For the third time that evening, Squadron Leader Martin Delaheye cursed his decision to ride the BMW. Even in mid-summer it was hopeless. You’d think, in June, you had a chance of getting home without half-drowning. But no, the rain had got to the electrics and and that was it – the bike was spluttering, coughing and regularly dying by the roadside.

With that bogging, helpless sensation known to every motorcyclist who’s run a classic, the 1959 R50‘s engine coughed and stalled. No power. Delaheye coasted to a stop, realising as soon as the water started filling his boot that he’d put his left foot in a puddle the size of the Channel.

German reliability. Right.

He pulled his helmet and misted goggles off and wondered where the hell he was. He eschewed GPSs – particularly on classic bikes Continue reading


A Bayeux Breakfast.

I was over in France recently with my business partner, James.

We’d been looking at various bits of WWII history and enjoying a few glasses of wine and good meals along the way. After one rather memorable Saturday evening, we just about managed to surface and shamble into Bayeux. Good job we did.

Just at the end of the Rue des Bouchers is a little square. There’s a café. And the chap who owns the café is a classic bike fan – big style. So much so that he happily holds the weekly meetings of the Luc-sur-Mer Classic Bike Club at his café.

I love serendipity.

So, we sorted ourselves out with croissants from the boulangerie, several cups of café from the café and watched the local classic bike fraternité stand around, look at each other’s bikes and talk bollocks. Just like being at home. But with better coffee. And sunshine. And, it seemed, rather less pretence.


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