I will always reply to comments and always re-reply to re-replies.

Sunday, June 19, 2016


To remember a song which was current when I was in the Army in the late '50s...

The Royal Enfield Bullet has been sold for £2,150 (hurrah for Ebay). Bought by a mature enthusiast who was treating himself to a 60th birthday pressie. He had twice toured around India on such, which are available to hire all over the place out there and wanted one of his own. His wife brought him down from Essex and he rode it back home. Here is the image of him leaving my address on it - not the happiest moment in my motorcycle life!

So now it is back to trolling around on a little 125cc Honda although this has appreciativly more performance than the little BSA Bantam 150cc which was my very first bike in 1958.

It will not come of too much of a culture shock though. Over the years I have owned a number of Honda trail bikes which were only 125cc and had immense fun with them. I am very much attracted to the Berkshire/Wiltshire downlands and Salisbury Plain with their ancient trackways and often made the 300 mile round trip in a day to explore them on these little bikes. I have always used trail bikes that were light enough to pick up if I came off, or to push out of deep mud - which was a not infrequent occurance!

I think this may be the subject of a later posting.......


pohanginapete said...

Funny how attached we can get to things that, on the face of it, are simply mass-produced material objects. Perhaps, though, what we're attached to is our shared experience with the object, and vehicles of transport, particularly motorcycles, which connect us far more than cars with the environment through which we're travelling, offer particularly rich shared experience. I suspect there's much more to it, though.

Good point about the advantages of light bikes. I sometimes see riders on giant bikes that look like an escaped part of the Large Hadron Collider, and I wonder what it would take to get one of those upright if it toppled over.

The Crow said...

Having never owned a bike, though I have longed for one, I can only imagine the mixed feelings you had watching someone else squire yours down the lane. Bittersweet, I guess. I hope its new owner treats it well.

To say something as insensitive as "Well, at least you have your memories" is better kept to myself. For some strange reason, though, I'm feeling a bit sad for your loss. Perhaps a nice brandy would help?

Avus said...

Yes, attachment to machines is odd. I seem to anthropomorphize favourite motorcycles, perhaps giving the seat a pat as I pass it in the garage (no, I have not been committed yet!) I am certainly with you about those gigantic "adventure" bikes. I would hate to have to wrestle one of those along a rutted trail, let alone try to pick it up!.

Bring on the brandy! I think saying goodbye to this bike was extra-poignant since I was also saying goodbye to the sort of biking that I have enjoyed for 60 years.
Eheu fugaces........... and all that

Anonymous said...

X from The Daughter

Roderick Robinson said...

There's always compensation in knowing a cherished possession has gone to a good home. As well as the mind-game one plays in comparing the present-day sale price with the purchase price of yesteryear.

But it was your choice of headline that caught my eye. I doubt you remember but that song, by the Everly Brothers, also figured in a Tone Deaf post. I have always liked it and first heard it covered by Simon and Garfunkel. More than that it contains an example of how our ears and brain, conditioned over many years, may pull us towards a line's rhythmic resolution that does not actually exist.

Notably in the first and second lines:

Bye-bye love,
Bye-bye sweet caress

Tap out the beat of the second line and despite the fact it is based on five syllables we are left with the impression that it is rhythmically complete.

Tap out the beat of the first line and we are left on the edge of a cliff, waiting for two more syllables to come along and "complete" the line.

The effect is, of course, intentional. But it requires a well-developed sense of rhythm to sing it correctly. One reason I'm taking lessons.

Sorry, I realise I should have written something about the "Phlat, phlat, phlat" noise the Bullet made as it departed.

Avus said...

Pa x

You can always be relied upon to find a different angle to explore. I have never analysed what I just accepted as a "pop" song, but your comment, as usual, engages the brain. Thanks

Vita said...

I am wondering when I'll have to pass on my trombone. My ears are going. Hope it's a few more years yet.

Have you watched Ewen McGregor and Charley Boorman ride around on adventures on some very heavy BMWs? Just think if they'd had bikes like yours!

Kay Cooke said...

A door closes and a window opens ... or a bike leaves and another one replaces it. Sorry, a bit lame. But I'm sure more adventures still await you on (or in) whatever mode of transport you choose. I look forward to reading about these adventures!

Avus said...

Guess you have to try ear-plugs - many musicians have to!

Ewan McGregor/Charlie Boorman are knocked into a cocked hat by this guy, who not only did the riding in the Himalayas, but all the commentary and filming as well, with no back-up team and camped "wild". All on a bike similar to mine, too.

Yes another has replaced it, but much smaller and lighter, as becomes my age and infirmity!

Zhoen said...

Hi, friend of Susan's (via blogs).

Is it any comfort that it went with someone who will love it? A little sweet in the bitter?

Avus said...

Good to hear from you, "friend of Susan". Yes, it is a comfort that someone is going to enjoy it and look after it. I suppose it must be like passing on a favourite horse!