Main Motorcycle: The Creamsicle!
Join Date: Jun 2009
Location: Currently in Japan
Other Motorcycle: FXDWG
"The Bonnie Tales" #1: The Sunday Roast
I carry a notepad with me on all of my rides and use this to reflect on a range of different things: people I should meet, the feel of my Bonnie, the scenery, contemplations that might happen during my ride, etc. I do this for a number of different reasons; it helps to enhance my riding experience that I so passionately enjoy, it will serve as a personal memoir for myself so that it can be passed over to my 16 month old son along with Bonnie when the day comes for him to get his license and roll her down the road, and I hope one day to possibly have this published as "The Bonnie Tales." If no one objects I would like to take excerpts from these writings and share them here on this forum. If they are long winded or needless then please let me know and I will stop posting them. If not then I will "scribble" away as I enjoy to do almost as much as I enjoy riding my Bonnie...
It was one of my very first rides on Bonnie since coming to the United Kingdom. My sister was visiting from America and was the first time for her meeting her new nephew. It was a classical British summer day; the sun was out and a cool breeze could be felt that would make you think it felt more like late spring. We decided to have a "proper" British Sunday and go to a well known pub in Diss to have a Sunday roast. Bonnie had finally arrived and was street legal so I was acting like a six year old at Christmas...I had to ride. My wife was equally joyous that Bonnie arrived so that she didn't have to listen to me sing "My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean" to her anymore. So it was agreed that I would fire Bonnie up and ride out to our Sunday roast as my wife, son, and sister rode in the cage.
I fired Bonnie up and rolled down the A1101 and immediately felt even more connected to her. Perhaps it was because I was able to ride my Triumph back in her "motherland" and she had returned to her origins or perhaps it was knowing that factory was less than a 100 miles away; either way, her parallel twins seemed to have hummed and rumbled sweeter and louder than she ever did before. I specifically chose the windy or "twistie" country roads to get us all to our destinations and immediately had a grin on my face as I took in the smells of the Suffolk region; rolling past the horse ranches of Newmarket, the pig farms before rolling through Bury St. Edmunds, and the countless farms where the smell of onions flowed through the air. Bonnie made her journey back home and I didn't want the ride to end. My biggest anxiety during the first leg of the ride was if I should open the old girl up and let her trot down the twisties or to pull back and sit up straight to take all of it in...I chose to do both. I pulled back and rode alongside my wife's car so that I could take a look at my son in his car seat and could see that he was mouthing the only word he knows for motorcycle: "da-da." Of course there is a difference and if the motorcycle should be a Triumph then his word changes to "DA-DA, DA-DA, DA-DA!" I smiled boastfully as I put Bonnie back into fifth gear and went ahead, hoping that one day my son takes the same interest in this passion called motorcycling and can experience the sense of freedom, independence, and calmness that riding has to offer to us.
I quickly began brainstorming before our Sunday meal was even over as to how I was going to continue the ride further. I immediately blurted out: "we should go to the Henry Watson plant after our meal." This would extend my riding at least another hour and allow my sister and wife to shop at the place where Henry Watson pottery is made. It was visionary and I can say egotistically say that I was a genious at the brief moment. Bonnie fired right up and she felt as if she was lunging to get back onto the twisties; that she was in need of the English twisties as much as I was. The road opened up more to the picturesque farming land scape as the A142 carved through the heart of it, allowing a panaromic view in every direction as Bonnie rolled on. I was brought back to my immediate surroundings and away from my contemplations as Bonnie seemed to developed a substantial echo. Five other Triumphs immediately engulfed around me as I soon realized that multiple parallel twins were now singing in unison. They sped past only to realize they had passed Bonnie and then immediately began to slow as one rider lowered his left hand to the side of his back to motion for me to join the pack. Bonnie had less hesitation than me and I was in the middle of this spontaneous pack before I even knew it. I received the courteous and respect cafe helmet nod as the fellow Trumpeters pulled in their clutches and revved their engines; I graciously returned the gesture ensuring that my cafe helmet nod was a little deeper than theirs.
I motioned backwards with my head to the newly formed pack to a little boy behind us in the car that was frantically testing the restraint system of his carseat to full capacity. Luckily they were able to understand the gesture I was emitting and followed my cue of pulling back and engulfing the car. This is the motorcycle language that so many of us are aware of; speaking in volumes while on a ride but without having to say a single word. Now my son's word for motorcycle changed to "DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-DAAAAAAAA" as he was accompanied not by one Triumphs but by six of them. Each one of us taking turns to roll our bikes up to his side as we beamed ear to ear seeing his reaction. My sister was bellowing in deep laughter as she raised her hands to cover her ears symbolizing how estatic my son was to be surrounded by so many Triumphs. To my sadness, the turn for the Henry Watson plant soon approached and I turned on my signal to motion that this surprising but appreciative union had to come to an end for me. The other five Trumpeters motion their acknowledgement to me and layed on their horns briefly as they put their bikes back into fifth gear and re-attacked the twisties. Bonnie answered right by sounding out several fast bursts of her horn and gracefully leaned into the turn that took us into our next destination...