My mother hated motorbikes. In the 1950's she was a nurse at Addenbrokes in Cambridge, before crash helmets were compulsory. She told us that she had seen 'horrible things' and motorbikes were 'terribly dangerous', which was a very English way of discouraging us from starting.
While in Cambridge my mother met my father, who was a student there after his service in Korea. Thinking about their early days my mother meeting her prospective father-in-law would have been a fascinating encounter. He was motorbike mad and more particularly a speedway fanatic and Harley Davidson European Champion of 1926. For non addicts, Harley used to make racetrack bikes.
The marriage happened and lasted long enough to ensure my brother, sister and I were there to continue the bloodlines of middle class, post imperial England. We grew up without motorbikes, or scooters, or mopeds. In his early 20's my brother got a moped for efficient commuting between Clapham and the City, but that ended up under an inattentive lorry. Luckily my brother walked away with scrapes and a lifelong learning that scooters and lorries don't mix.
So mother was never troubled by us rebelling with motorbikes. We managed to rebel in just about every other way, but not as bikers.
20 years later when in her late 60's, mother was grandchildless. However her offspring managed to get their acts together and provide here with 7 in 4 years. My three contributions arrived one Thursday teatime in August 1999,
That little life changer has led to us being in Italy, in a big house, always scraping around for money to keep the growing teenagers maintained at an acceptable level. For recalcitrant ingrates they are wonderful children and each year is more interesting.
Indeed each mealtime, which we insist on sharing, seems to be more interesting. We are an open house but we have to limit the topics at mealtimes. Last year a young lady, Rachel Johnson, was kindly helping me out. She rightly pointed out that the dinner table was not the appropriate place for some of the more bawdy and medical discussions, so ever since we invoke 'Rachel's Rules' to change subject.
Despite the mealtime funtime the last couple of years have been rough. Two years ago local hunters poisoned my two beautiful Marremani (big dogs, like large white retrievers) and my wife decided she wanted to separate. Then my mother got pancreatic cancer and died four months later, my sister was re-attacked by breast cancer and died almost a year after mother and father died of heart failure a few weeks after her.
So as pretty much a single parent of triplets juggling teaching, translations, teenagers and a steady flow of body blows I needed something for me. Luckily mother had been a conscientious saver, despite years of personal hardship with our severe stepfather.
So with my share of her small estate I had 4 hours of bike lessons, got a licence (things are different in Italy!) and a couple of days later a fourth hand 600cc metallic blue cruising bike.
Apparently you don't crash bikes unless its really bad. Luckily I didn't 'drop' mine till the first evening I had it. Of course being middle aged, therefore young and stupid, I was not wearing proper biker boots so the resulting ankle damage was quite bad and took some 3 months and lots of physiotherapy to heal.
The second drop happened 6 months later, being cut up by a stupid driver. My proper bike gear (even old people learn to avoid pain) meant that the physio was only for a month.
To digress, we are lucky to have a very good physio nearby. He is another displaced Brit and grows some of the hottest chillies in the world.
I found a bike mechanic who told me to change the tyres. They were antique and hard as rock. That was why the bike had 'slipped'. Ever since then the biking has got better and a lot more fun.
Here we are 16 months and 10,000 km after starting. Ready for the experience of a lifetime.
Mentally I have been ready for a while and even paid for the ticket and the trip months ago.
Michael Hobbs provided the encouragement for getting on a bike in the first place. As two middle aged guys we need to chat about the challenges of marriage, older children and self-employment. So we pop out on the bikes when we are both in the country and the weather is good.
Michael was always enthusiastic about his first participation in the South India Adventure. He is superb at justifying the need to take something out for ourselves and, of course, willing are the victims, so I was steadily convinced to learn to ride and then sign up.
The papers have been a real struggle. A tourist visa for India took €300 and 4 weeks. The application needs to be made in person and the embassy is in Rome, at least a three hour drive away. So the 2 trips took two full days with some 14 hours of driving.
Indians trying to get a visa for the UK have a very difficult time. Unfortunately the Indians do not make it easy for UK tourists, at least not for those of us inconsiderate enough to apply from outside the UK.
An International Licence from the Italian authorities by contrast took only a week. four hours of driving and €70! The vaccinations were three appointments over two months and €126.
It all takes some long term planning!
With the paperwork and vaccinations done I can now look forward to the trip. Hence starting this journal.
Michael has now assembled a gang of five. Middle aged, some biking experience, in need of a break and happy to help others. Two are based in the UK, one in Italy, one between the two and one in Australia.
I am guessing Michael is killing a few birds with one adventure. He obviously really enjoyed his first trip and found it changed his life for the better.
He presumably felt that the rest of us would greatly benefit from the experience. I certainly have needed a reason to reexamine my values and efforts.
Of course helping us to help ourselves and for us to help others is just a lot of wins in a row.
The helping others part is for a charity, Adventure Ashram, which has various noble projects covering areas others don't reach.
Setting up a tiger reserve is something we all find easy to support. But what happens to the families that live in the area now designated as a reserve. Maybe they can be moved, but that takes time and money. How do the kids get to school until that happens. Adventure Ashram helps with the move, but until that can happen they provide buses to get the kids to school. Walking is not a good choice in a tiger reserve.
The charity supports a school for boys who were victims of human trafficking. That is a gut wrencher. It is a whole area most of us have never thought about. One of those nuclear topics and I hope you never have to get close.
So here we are five days into the adventure. Ready for the third day on the bikes.
While in Cambridge my mother met my father, who was a student there after his service in Korea. Thinking about their early days my mother meeting her prospective father-in-law would have been a fascinating encounter. He was motorbike mad and more particularly a speedway fanatic and Harley Davidson European Champion of 1926. For non addicts, Harley used to make racetrack bikes.
The marriage happened and lasted long enough to ensure my brother, sister and I were there to continue the bloodlines of middle class, post imperial England. We grew up without motorbikes, or scooters, or mopeds. In his early 20's my brother got a moped for efficient commuting between Clapham and the City, but that ended up under an inattentive lorry. Luckily my brother walked away with scrapes and a lifelong learning that scooters and lorries don't mix.
So mother was never troubled by us rebelling with motorbikes. We managed to rebel in just about every other way, but not as bikers.
20 years later when in her late 60's, mother was grandchildless. However her offspring managed to get their acts together and provide here with 7 in 4 years. My three contributions arrived one Thursday teatime in August 1999,
That little life changer has led to us being in Italy, in a big house, always scraping around for money to keep the growing teenagers maintained at an acceptable level. For recalcitrant ingrates they are wonderful children and each year is more interesting.
Indeed each mealtime, which we insist on sharing, seems to be more interesting. We are an open house but we have to limit the topics at mealtimes. Last year a young lady, Rachel Johnson, was kindly helping me out. She rightly pointed out that the dinner table was not the appropriate place for some of the more bawdy and medical discussions, so ever since we invoke 'Rachel's Rules' to change subject.
Despite the mealtime funtime the last couple of years have been rough. Two years ago local hunters poisoned my two beautiful Marremani (big dogs, like large white retrievers) and my wife decided she wanted to separate. Then my mother got pancreatic cancer and died four months later, my sister was re-attacked by breast cancer and died almost a year after mother and father died of heart failure a few weeks after her.
So as pretty much a single parent of triplets juggling teaching, translations, teenagers and a steady flow of body blows I needed something for me. Luckily mother had been a conscientious saver, despite years of personal hardship with our severe stepfather.
So with my share of her small estate I had 4 hours of bike lessons, got a licence (things are different in Italy!) and a couple of days later a fourth hand 600cc metallic blue cruising bike.
Apparently you don't crash bikes unless its really bad. Luckily I didn't 'drop' mine till the first evening I had it. Of course being middle aged, therefore young and stupid, I was not wearing proper biker boots so the resulting ankle damage was quite bad and took some 3 months and lots of physiotherapy to heal.
The second drop happened 6 months later, being cut up by a stupid driver. My proper bike gear (even old people learn to avoid pain) meant that the physio was only for a month.
To digress, we are lucky to have a very good physio nearby. He is another displaced Brit and grows some of the hottest chillies in the world.
I found a bike mechanic who told me to change the tyres. They were antique and hard as rock. That was why the bike had 'slipped'. Ever since then the biking has got better and a lot more fun.
Here we are 16 months and 10,000 km after starting. Ready for the experience of a lifetime.
Mentally I have been ready for a while and even paid for the ticket and the trip months ago.
Michael Hobbs provided the encouragement for getting on a bike in the first place. As two middle aged guys we need to chat about the challenges of marriage, older children and self-employment. So we pop out on the bikes when we are both in the country and the weather is good.
Michael was always enthusiastic about his first participation in the South India Adventure. He is superb at justifying the need to take something out for ourselves and, of course, willing are the victims, so I was steadily convinced to learn to ride and then sign up.
The papers have been a real struggle. A tourist visa for India took €300 and 4 weeks. The application needs to be made in person and the embassy is in Rome, at least a three hour drive away. So the 2 trips took two full days with some 14 hours of driving.
Indians trying to get a visa for the UK have a very difficult time. Unfortunately the Indians do not make it easy for UK tourists, at least not for those of us inconsiderate enough to apply from outside the UK.
An International Licence from the Italian authorities by contrast took only a week. four hours of driving and €70! The vaccinations were three appointments over two months and €126.
It all takes some long term planning!
With the paperwork and vaccinations done I can now look forward to the trip. Hence starting this journal.
Michael has now assembled a gang of five. Middle aged, some biking experience, in need of a break and happy to help others. Two are based in the UK, one in Italy, one between the two and one in Australia.
I am guessing Michael is killing a few birds with one adventure. He obviously really enjoyed his first trip and found it changed his life for the better.
He presumably felt that the rest of us would greatly benefit from the experience. I certainly have needed a reason to reexamine my values and efforts.
Of course helping us to help ourselves and for us to help others is just a lot of wins in a row.
The helping others part is for a charity, Adventure Ashram, which has various noble projects covering areas others don't reach.
Setting up a tiger reserve is something we all find easy to support. But what happens to the families that live in the area now designated as a reserve. Maybe they can be moved, but that takes time and money. How do the kids get to school until that happens. Adventure Ashram helps with the move, but until that can happen they provide buses to get the kids to school. Walking is not a good choice in a tiger reserve.
The charity supports a school for boys who were victims of human trafficking. That is a gut wrencher. It is a whole area most of us have never thought about. One of those nuclear topics and I hope you never have to get close.
So here we are five days into the adventure. Ready for the third day on the bikes.
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