Musings

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

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Riding

The RAF’s Revenge – Part III – RAF Broadwell

If one has any sense. one doesn’t mess with the spirits of a few thousand RAF servicemen. One doesn’t, particularly, thumb one’s nose at them by riding one’s German through-and-through R1100GS onto the middle of one of their airfields, even if they did technically “leave” in 1947.

Sorry, chaps. I suppose I had it coming. Continue reading

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Riding

The RAF’s Revenge – Part II – RAF Broadwell

RAF Broadwell was one of the major glider launch sites for the DDay and Arnhem landings. It’s a place that’s pivotal in the history of the country. 515 and 575 squadron were based here.

This is one of the many stories I’ve read about Broadwell:

Harry Lingard’s story, like many of his war time colleagues, has remained untold. He was in the 1st Airborne Air Landing Light Reg. R.A and was a Dispatch rider and Signaler. On 18th September 1944 along with four other men, a jeep, a motor bike and ammunition he was loaded into a Horsa glider at R.A.F. Broadwell and towed off Continue reading

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