Homeward No.1

Riding Home


As soon as I left the car park I knew I was going to have a fun time. Even getting off the premises was a challenge: the roundabout was 4-lanes deep in pushy cars already, and the first set of lights before the A331 were chokka. Still, I held up other bikes even though I feel I was doing all I could on a still new-to-me machine and given the appalling driving of the ubiquitous lane-hoppers.

Things were going well before I got onto the dual carriageway. The wind was in my face and Dilbert's screen just wasn't cutting through it for me. My head was getting mauled. If I wanted that sort of effect off the bike I can only imagine sticking my bonce up an elephant's arse the morning after a Vindaloo fest - an anal sphincter death grip with screams muffled by the endless turbine of turbulent phart.



My speed was somewhere just below 70mph but the level of control I had to exert on Dilbert was approaching that required of a horse on roller skates startled by a yappy rat terrier. By the time I got to Farnham I was relieved there was traffic to slow-filter through.

Back onto the open road (A31) and I just sacked any ideas of speed. My wrists were still sore from the bike training and my neck was just not able to take much more buffeting. My jaw was clenched against the helmets rattling on its strap beneath my chin and I was loosing audio to the battering of wind against the sides of the visor.

Back into the trees of the A32 I made some headway again, but by the time I started filtering off the Motorway (my first Motorway ride: 1/2-mile to Junction 11) I was again glad to slow for traffic.

Following out of Fareham for Gosport some weirdo on a big dark bike wearing a yellow jerkin waved madly at me, "like an idiot". Too much traffic to concentrate on anything else so I did what anyone would do and ignored said weirdo. It turned out to be Ian (sorry Ian), so I made a point of waving (like an idiot) at him the next morning because he remonstrated on Facebook about how rude I had been.

Back home the family descended on me. Given my early rise and early return (at 4.40pm rather than the usual 8pm) they were still surprised to see me so soon. I had left work only 1hr 15min ago - that's an average drive out of rush hour in the Alpha. At this time of day I'd have sat in the box for near 2-hrs. So, although a little fatigued from such a long ride and bullying by the breeze I was elated that such a good time could be made through peak traffic.

It had cost a little more than I had expected, though. The Sanya is just so frugal, but Dilbert proved why he has such a big beer belly: that's £4.50 each way. Phut-Phut was doing the whole trip on the same. So paying off against the Alpha Dilbert is still cheaper in fuel (by just over half) but can shave 45mins off peak commute.

Hmm, I know where I'm sitting.

Side Point


The Alpha can make me smile when man and machine become one and dominate the traffic but Ka remarked that I seldom came home from the commute with quite such as broad a smile as I did then - knackered and wrist-sore, or not.

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