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Well, some of you on here may know that I've been struggling a bit with the demands the DSA has been making on my riding skills 
. And I mentioned recently also to some that I hardly qualify as an 'Adventure Bike' Rider - and yet most of my rides seem to turn out into an (unplanned) adventure . Well, today was no exception.
Trying to focus on training (and failing) Mod 1, I had reached a real low last weekend. I was seriously questioning whether I really wanted to continue in my quest to become a 'real biker'. Trying to reconcile the demands of work, family, and bike training, and after a weekend of poor performance in training, I was ready to jack it all in. However, following MervinH's timely post of the Felice Brothers' vid (see http://www.xrv.org.uk/forums/chatter/77312-what-does-being-biker-mean-2.html post #8 8)) and my friend/trainer Chris's advice that I needed to just resume riding for a while to reignite my enthusiasm, Chris and I decided to go for *just* a ride.
However, Chris was late arriving at my house. Turned out that, en route to my house, the spring from the side stand on his blade (a.k.a the skunk) had detached itself (unseen), and he'd had to ride with his left foot holding up the side stand. He was determined to go ahead with the ride, and asked whether I had any rubber bands. I did, of course, being thrifty (or sad) enough to save all those discarded red bands from Postman Pat... Anyway, he used one of these to hold the stand and pocketed the rest 'in case of emergency' .
We set out. Given it was already later than intended, and my need to enjoy this ride rather than see it as another test of endurance, we set a gentle goal to reach a much-loved hostelry South of Nottingham at Normanton on Soar. The ride took in lovely twisty country roads, and the only downside was the strong winds that threatened to gust Nessie and me way off course. However, we arrived at The Plough (The Plough Inn Riverside Bar and Restaurant Normantion on Soar - you may want to turn the annoying sound off!) unscathed and parked up in the car park. So far so good. However, suddenly, as I was pulling Nessie to a halt, I heard an exclamation from Chris and looked up to see him and the Skunk rolling over for a lie down on the pub car park. Leaving Nessie's ignition on I raced over to the rescue. No damage done - except to pride - the 'rubber band' had pulled the stand back up as Chris dismounted. We had a good laugh (along, no doubt, with the packed pub's Sunday Bank Holiday lunch crowd), and went on to have a leisurely lunch and stroll by the river Soar, watching two men in a boat go by.
![IMAG0076.jpg]()
![IMAG0078.jpg]()
We decided to take the low road home, and, having used one of those 'emergency' bands on the the Skunk we set off. I was enjoying the day and my riding was much more relaxed and confindent than of late. However, not far into the ride, I noticed that Chris's side stand was once again suffering from 'droop'. Luckily we were using the Scala headsets, and I was able to alert him to his 'little problem'. As soon as feasible, he pulled up and a roadside repair was deemed necessary. As Chris lay prostrate at the side of the road a number of cars and one bike sped past - none of them seemed sufficiently alarmed by this sight as to feel the need to stop:
![IMAG0079.jpg]()
Whilst I, of course, was too busy laughing, taking photos and handing out rubber bands to offer much consolation.
Eventually, the skilled mechanic effected this repair:
![IMAG0080.jpg]()
and we were on the road again.
We then got home safely. The moral of the story? Never give up, and always keep a few spare rubber bands in your pocket. You never know when you may need them.
Oh and Nessie the humble Vanvan - never missed a beat :thumbup:. The skunk the noble fireblade - held together by a rubber band.
. And I mentioned recently also to some that I hardly qualify as an 'Adventure Bike' Rider - and yet most of my rides seem to turn out into an (unplanned) adventure . Well, today was no exception. Trying to focus on training (and failing) Mod 1, I had reached a real low last weekend. I was seriously questioning whether I really wanted to continue in my quest to become a 'real biker'. Trying to reconcile the demands of work, family, and bike training, and after a weekend of poor performance in training, I was ready to jack it all in. However, following MervinH's timely post of the Felice Brothers' vid (see http://www.xrv.org.uk/forums/chatter/77312-what-does-being-biker-mean-2.html post #8 8)) and my friend/trainer Chris's advice that I needed to just resume riding for a while to reignite my enthusiasm, Chris and I decided to go for *just* a ride.
However, Chris was late arriving at my house. Turned out that, en route to my house, the spring from the side stand on his blade (a.k.a the skunk) had detached itself (unseen), and he'd had to ride with his left foot holding up the side stand
. He was determined to go ahead with the ride, and asked whether I had any rubber bands. I did, of course, being thrifty (or sad) enough to save all those discarded red bands from Postman Pat... Anyway, he used one of these to hold the stand and pocketed the rest 'in case of emergency' . We set out. Given it was already later than intended, and my need to enjoy this ride rather than see it as another test of endurance, we set a gentle goal to reach a much-loved hostelry South of Nottingham at Normanton on Soar. The ride took in lovely twisty country roads, and the only downside was the strong winds that threatened to gust Nessie and me way off course. However, we arrived at The Plough (The Plough Inn Riverside Bar and Restaurant Normantion on Soar - you may want to turn the annoying sound off!) unscathed and parked up in the car park. So far so good. However, suddenly, as I was pulling Nessie to a halt, I heard an exclamation from Chris and looked up to see him and the Skunk rolling over for a lie down on the pub car park
. Leaving Nessie's ignition on I raced over to the rescue. No damage done - except to pride - the 'rubber band' had pulled the stand back up as Chris dismounted. We had a good laugh (along, no doubt, with the packed pub's Sunday Bank Holiday lunch crowd), and went on to have a leisurely lunch and stroll by the river Soar, watching two men in a boat go by. 
We decided to take the low road home, and, having used one of those 'emergency' bands on the the Skunk we set off. I was enjoying the day and my riding was much more relaxed and confindent than of late. However, not far into the ride, I noticed that Chris's side stand was once again suffering from 'droop'. Luckily we were using the Scala headsets, and I was able to alert him to his 'little problem'. As soon as feasible, he pulled up and a roadside repair was deemed necessary. As Chris lay prostrate at the side of the road a number of cars and one bike sped past - none of them seemed sufficiently alarmed by this sight as to feel the need to stop
:
Whilst I, of course, was too busy laughing, taking photos and handing out rubber bands to offer much consolation
.Eventually, the skilled mechanic effected this repair:
and we were on the road again.
We then got home safely. The moral of the story? Never give up, and always keep a few spare rubber bands in your pocket. You never know when you may need them.
Oh and Nessie the humble Vanvan - never missed a beat :thumbup:. The skunk the noble fireblade - held together by a rubber band
.
