OFF-ROAD TUMBLES

 I have some sympathy for my family when it comes to my birthday for several reasons. My general apathy when it comes to me celebrating the passing of another year must send them into despair. My long-suffering wife, when watching my reaction to a surprise 50th birthday party, vowed never to organise anything again and even recorded it as a reminder on the calendar each year.

So when my son and daughter arranged an off-road day on Salisbury Plain for my 60th birthday it was an occasion that could be shared by others of a like mind and both my son, Paul, and son in-law, Jason, wanted to come along. It promised to be a good day. The irony was that I had successfully kept Paul off motorcycles, as a teenager, for fear of my parental despair if things had gone wrong and now at 35 he had just a provisional entitlement for bikes and no experience of riding on-road let alone off-road.

So, a CBT later, he was not the best equipped to do some reckless stuff over the Plain but enthusiastic none the less.

 The day arrived and a journey along the A36, by bike of course, ended up at the western edge of the plain and the premises of ‘AJP Experience’. A briefing by Martin and John, his assistant instructor on the day, preceded the start of the experience and the necessary padding up. When asked why he did not pad up, Martin offered that he didn’t often fall off and had no need of it. This merely confirmed that, with my inexperience, falling off was going to be part and parcel of the day’s ride.

The off-road bikes were 200cc Portuguese AJP machines of basic and light construction, much different from the Pan European that I normally ride.  One of the concepts that I was to grasp that day was the fact that gear changes were to be conducted in the standing position together with genteel braking and also steering with your feet!!!!  With practice the gear changes could be made without using the clutch with a little care because the terrain was slippery. True enough, once accustomed to the bike, by transferring weight from one foot to the other would enable the rider to make the slight deviations needed to pick a path along the rugged and rutted paths that we were to pass along that day.

In the first half an hour Jason was the first to come off followed by Paul (twice) and when I was chuckling to myself that my riding skills were obviously superior to theirs I had an ‘off’ that John, the instructor, thought most spectacular. Caught by the front wheel in a rut I was catapulted off and ended up upside down in another rut some feet away laughing so much I couldn’t get to my feet under my own steam.  In fact my misguided presumption that I was good was due to Jason, with all his biking experience ‘going for it’ with verve and gusto and making my riding positively timid, whilst Paul was just getting used to two wheeled power. Hardly the best comparisons to make and just to prove the point Jason negotiated an impossible two stage hill climb not just once but twice whilst I successfully fell off another three times in the attempt. The photograph shows me (in the helmet) trying to work out what happened.  A great leveller. Now put in my place I was really enjoying my time and we went up hill and down dale gathering confidence as we went. I was quite impressed with the bikes, as a great lump like myself was hardly the most conducive to the speed and agility that the bikes were well capable of. (for speed read 20mph as anything more was positively frightening) A stop for lunch at a village pub was most welcome and also gave the instructors time to get another machine because Paul’s bike had died under him giving him a bit of a crisis of confidence and the thoughts that he had broken it.  It was, in fact, a genuine engine failure and not of his making

Refreshed and rested we ventured off, but not before the pub car park was invaded by more trail bikes of definite military appearance.  One of the suitably combat clothed riders was none other than SAM member, Colin Hitchcock, on his Harley for a day’s fun across the plain

As I went along the interesting and challenging route, well for me it was, I got to think and ponder why it was that when my mount pitched me off, a not infrequent occurrence, 7 out of 8 times it was to the right side. There seemed to be no logical reason for this as far as the bike and terrain was concerned, so it had to be me!!! More spills and more thoughts gave me the conclusion that, when I saw a difficult route to negotiate, I tensed up and as I did so I stood harder on the footpegs and for some inexplicable reason most weight was transferred to my right foot. Remember what was said about steering with your feet!!!!  What I had achieved was a sort of target fixation because every time I thought I might fall off I tensed up and did exactly as predicted

More tracks and gullies negotiated during the afternoon and thoughts that the day had to end, but not yet, as we were all enjoying it so much. Eventually, as fatigue crept up on us, the wish that we didn’t want it to end gradually transferred to ‘I think I have had enough’.  If the dirty state of us and the bikes, together with fatigue and the accompanying aches and pains, was any indication of the enjoyment we had then it had to be a good one.  Paul’s inexperience didn’t hinder him too much and he got on well, just proving that anyone, of whatever experience, can benefit.

 So if any of your nearest and dearest have trouble in choosing a very acceptable present for the motorcyclist then I cannot recommend more strongly a day off-road to improve the skills and have great FUN.