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I'm sorry, Richard. It's still surprises me sometimes that life can be so rich and so rough at the same time.

I've found a solution to my SV 1000 problem.

I keep the SV mainly as a winter bike. This means that during the summer months she sits around a lot, going mouldy. As I don't drive it also makes sense to have a second bike in case something goes wrong with the Daytona.

But I have yet another reason for keeping her (the real, secret, deep-down reason). I'm still in love with her big V-twin engine and oodles of torque. I get a real kick from riding her. It would be a wrench to part with her.

As she has over 45,000 miles on the clock now I wouldn't get a great deal for her anyway. (As you can see, I can always think of a good excuse for holding on to her.)

Trouble is, it's a bit expensive running two bikes - tax, insurance, servicing, MOT. I can afford it, but there are sometimes other things I would prefer to do with the cash - like travel more.

It's a problem.

Two weeks ago, though, the perfect solution presented itself: Victor.

Victor has been active (quite vigorously active) in recent years propagating the species. Like me, he loves his bike but with several small sprogs around the house demanding to be fed and nurtured, he now has other things to spend his money on.

So he has reached that inevitable point in the lifecycle of the dedicated motorcyclist. He's had to sell his pride and joy for the sake of his family.

This has had inevitable consequences. Victor has developed that miserable, yearning, just-sold-my-bike look. In the long process of coming to terms with his fate, he now also goes into the occasional spasm of painful breast-beating.

In the club tent at the BMF show two weeks ago he sat down and told me all about it.

I listened to his tale of woe, thought carefully for all of fifteen seconds and then made a suggestion.

The outcome is: we've done a deal.

Victor pays me something towards the SV's road expenses - his GF/partner is happy to agree to this - and he gets to use her (the SV, that is) whenever he wants - except when the Daytona is off the road. As he is in full-time employment and only rides at weekends, our need for her is unlikely to clash.

We shake on it. Suddenly he looks 2,000% happier. I get to have the SV exercised. I also get to reduce my costs. He gets an affordable ride. I'm able to do someone a favour. And because Victor is a genuinely nice guy, I get the pleasure of his company on weekend rideouts from time to time.

Knockout!

Now that's a heck of a deal for the both of you! Glad you two could figure it out!

Until this evening, I didn't realise how shaken up I was over Dave's death. I was travelling up to Sandy on the bike after work to the club's Monday night pub meet, and hardly had the heart for the ride. Usually it's a quick, lively trip to Sandy, straight up the A1, but tonight I had no enthusiasm for it at all. I just pootled along well under the limit not feeling much. The buzz that usually accompanies a ride - any ride - was missing. Instead the Daytona had begun to feel heavy beneath me, like a burden.

Victor, I discovered yesterday is feeling much the same way as I do. I'd met him in town. I was on the Daytona, waiting at a set of traffic lights, when he saw me. He jumped off his bicycle and waved me down. It was an awkward situation as we both realised. It was not an easy thing to do to pull over somewhere safely in traffic in that part of Hitchin but he was feeling very low about Dave's death and needing urgently to talk to a fellow biker. He's already lost several close relatives this year including a brother and is not sure he is able to take too much more.

When I got to the pub tonight, there was a big turn out. Those that knew Dave were feeling naturally subdued. But there were a lot of others, new to the club, who hadn't really known him at all. Their animated conversation made a strange contrast with the unusually quiet mood of the rest of us who gathered together in several small groups around the bar. Squeaky had been badly affected. He couldn't bring himself to get his bike out of the garage this evening. He's even been having thoughts about selling it. He'd came in his van and went home early.

In their various ways, people were feeling confused and disoriented. Some of the blokes there were trying just a bit too hard to avoid talking about the thing that was obviously on their minds. Others sounded sullen or just plain miserable. One or two were talking hard about superficial details of the funeral. Some sounded conspiratorial.

The funeral will take place next Thursday in Dunton, a village not far from here, where Dave lived with his wife and three kids. The family are expecting a lot of people to attend. There will be fifty or a hundred bikes. Irritatingly, I may not be able to go. The funeral is taking place at the same time as the only fixed work appointment I have all week. I'm trying to change it, but it may not be possible. I keep thinking I should go anyway and sod them. I want to, but it will be difficult.

While talking to people at the pub, I also got the news that my mate, Ron had taken a tumble on Sunday, while leading a club rideout. He'd braked on a steep hill and lost his front wheel. It happened on the Whipsnade road which rolls steeply off the Dunstable Downs and sidles down onto the Bedfordshire plain. It's a narrow, sunken road - hardly more than a lane - with thick hedgerows on either side and lots of sharp bends. The Dunstable downs are a popular recreational area, so on summer weekends the road gets dangerously busy with cars, motorcyclists and cyclists. I've slithered on its gravelly surface myself, and these days I treat it with considerable respect.

So, no good news. I'm feeling quite bleak, and right now there is a tangled mess inside my head which is in no hurry to unravel itself. It will eventually and when it does, that will be the time for taking stock. The human fallout from events like this generally takes whatever time and direction it will. You can't hurry it. You can't tell how long it will take or where you will end up.

One thing is sure, though, if you ride a bike, dealing with the death of a motorcycling friend is a road that sooner or later you are likely to have to travel.

One thing is sure, though, if you ride a bike, dealing with the death of a motorcycling friend is a road that sooner or later you are likely to have to travel.

Sobering thought, Richard, and one I have barely considered until now. Previously, it was mine and my husband's risks I have contemplated. I had not considered future riding friends.

I find it hard to sort such things out at their own pace, even though I know I must. I always wish to find a way to hurry it along. You seem admirably willing to wait it out.

MZ33 wrote:

One thing is sure, though, if you ride a bike, dealing with the death of a motorcycling friend is a road that sooner or later you are likely to have to travel.

Sobering thought, Richard, and one I have barely considered until now. Previously, it was mine and my husband's risks I have contemplated. I had not considered future riding friends.

I find it hard to sort such things out at their own pace, even though I know I must. I always wish to find a way to hurry it along. You seem admirably willing to wait it out.

"Damn the torpedos, full speed ahead."

This method of dealing with grief doesn't work. I find those that push through instead of dealing with the issues, pay for it later when another crisis hits them and they overload their emotions. Slow and steady as Mr. SV implies, is really the best way to deal with these issues.

With that said Richard, I hope you're feeling better about all this, sooner than later.

Thursday

It's hot and... Damn! They’re at it again, the surfer kids on litre sports bikes. There are at least four of them. I saw them this afternoon on my way to Dave's funeral at Dunton.

They first appeared in Hitchin earlier this year on their R1s and Gixxers and big Kwakers, and they've been out a number of times since, parading about town in their shorts and t-shirts. Either they are new in the area or they are new to bikes. As they all look in their late teens and early twenties (and show a considerable lack of good sense) I’d guess they are probably new to bikes (and probably also have very rich daddies.)

But there is something else. Over their t-shirts and shorts... wait for this...! Over their t-shirts and shorts, they all wear full back protectors.

Now call me stupid, but in my corner of the universe this doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.

The only thing I can think of is that they are trying to make some kind of fashion statement. And to be truthful, if you squinny up your eyes, they do look kinda cool in a post-punk, ‘Batman Returns,’ cyber-hero kind of way.

But I'd hate to have to squinny up my eyes for other reasons - to avoid looking at their post-human goo, for instance. Back protectors might save their spines in a crash and allow them to carry on in the flesh (or a reduced part of it) for a little while longer but losing a limb or two is usually a permanent condition and hardly an improvement on the basic design. (I think I'd rather say a straight goodbye to mother earth and have done with it).

But these guys are probably wearning an armour, stronger than back protectors - the age-old glow of youthful self-approval. This has always been a powerful prophylactic against reality. I remember it well .

It probably also explains the bikes they are riding. Not one of them looks past his early twenties and most look younger. They don't appear to have had much history of riding either - you can tell just by looking at their posture on the bikes. I saw one of them lose it for a second about a week ago on the Windmill Hill junction. Luckily he had plenty of road around him, and there was nobody nearby. He tried to cover up, but it was obvious that he'd frozen on the throttle. And am I surprised? He was riding a f***ing ZX10R. ( ) That's a killing machine that many an experienced rider woudn't go anywhere near.

The world is full of nut-jobs, I suppose, or in this case, kids with more nuts that nous. It's a bad design fault that plain lack of experience isn't remedied until it has almost killed you - if you are lucky.

And... and... and... apart from the very dodgy set of value judgements their gear imples, I'm p1ssed off with the way they are invading my mental space. Just the thought of all that unprotected flesh rolling over the tarmac makes me feel vulnerable. Since seeing them this afternoon, the scars on my right knee have been itching badly. (I've had those scars ever since my leathers split in a decking five years ago, and they've never quite healed.)

All my edges are frayed right now and I can't help worrying about these kids in an abstract sort of way. But what can you do?

Friday

A dark mood has blown in on me suddenly, like the recently damp weather. And its hardly surprising. Bad news keeps piling up like snowdrifts. There has been a rash of motorcycle fatalities in this area in recent weeks. One of my work colleagues lost an in-law in a bike accident about a month ago, and another told me only yesterday that she buried her young nephew last week after a motorcycle collision. He was another kid that had failed to dress for the occasion.

Sometimes all this hot weather is not such an advantage.

And the news about Dave I got at the funeral isn't good either. His Ducati highsided him. He slid for a short way down the road but came to a stop when the bike dropped out of the sky and landed on top of him, swiftly finishing off what the tarmac had started.

I think at this point I need to change the subject. Manky weather like we've had today is just designed to breed paranoia in a bloke.

Time for that much delayed trip to the colonies.... aka Canada

Great idea, dr.-bar! I think he should come to the Women's Conference!!! Yeah, that's it! Just think, friend Wolf, loads of women on loads of bikes, beautiful scenary in every direction. If that's not a pick-me-up, I don't know what is!

MZ33 wrote:Great idea, dr.-bar! I think he should come to the Women's Conference!!! Yeah, that's it! Just think, friend Wolf, loads of women on loads of bikes, beautiful scenary in every direction. If that's not a pick-me-up, I don't know what is!

Colorado is in Canada now??? Excellent, I didn't realize how well that world domination thing was working...