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