Losing my faith

Six massive months have passed since my last blog post. I really have no idea what's going on with me. I am busy but I can't really excuse being busy for six months. It's not that I never really have the time, it's that I haven't really made the time. I'm not quite sure what's going on.

Around the time of my last blog post I was really pushing my journalism career. I attended several 'GoThinkBig' open days (which I highly recommend) and ending up walking around the Motorcycle News office! I really interacted with the writers there, asking loads of questions and expressing my views on things (which is very unlike me). This led to an opportunity to meet Rupert Paul, a highly respected motorbike journalist. With a bit more forward talking, I explained to him just how much I wanted to become a motorbike journo and I think he really understood that I wasn't kidding about wanting to be a journalist.

Which led to a job opportunity. Very kindly, Rupert offered me the chance to gain some experience in professional writing - I was (and still am) in shock. I received my first freelance job; interviewing James Toseland and Neil Hodgson about the forthcoming MotoGP races - I still can't believe it!

The best part was rushing home with MCN sport under my arm, dying to flick through and find my name in the little black writing. I shown it off to all of my work colleagues with pride and my supervisor even photocopied it and hung it up on the wall! Not long after I was offered ANOTHER interview and this time it was with current British MotoGP racer, Bradley Smith! I was in my element, planning the rest of my future and thinking of all the amazing things I will do when I become a journalist.

I was on top of the world...

So what on earth happened?

Lately, things seemed to have gone down the pan. I've moved house since then which has made it so much harder to use my motorbike. I had a choice of leaving the Fz6 outside in the icy weather or to keep it at my parent's house in a nice garage, protected from rust and corrosion.

I chose to keep it at my parent's house but it's just really rare that I actually ride my bike anymore. I think not riding motorbikes has had a knock on effect with my journalism and my blog posts too (not to mention YouTube videos).

It's not that I've lost interest in motorbikes or journalism. I just think that I've lost that little bit of inspiration, in these dark winter days.

I went out on my bike two days ago for the first time in about two months! I was greeted by freezing temperatures, buckets of rain and a shortage of bacon at my local bike stop. Despite these things, I still had a whole lot of fun. I've also began planning a few road trips for this year (which I won't mention, in fear of being cancelled) and have started looking at new bikes to use on these trips.

It's time to be getting myself back on the road and back on the keyboard.

How did you get inspired to start biking?

Apologies for the massive delay between blogs recently. It's a bit tricky sometimes to get yourself motivated but I'm feeling inspired now so I'm back, with a new post revolved around inspiration. Now let me begin...

What inspired you to get your bike?

Was it seeing the local nutter on his crotch rocket race through the streets? Was it watching Ewan and Charley travel the world on them? Or was it to fulfill a commute cheaply?

When I was sixteen I was desperate to get my 50cc and any bike would do, I wouldn't care as long as it had an engine. I found my little Derbi on eBay and went all the way to Sussex to collect it. When we got back we discovered slightly bent bars, few battle scars from a slip the previous owner had and a horrible sumo wrestling sticker - but did I care?

It was a bike. It had wheels. An engine. A headlight. A reg plate. A tank. An exhaust. It was the real thing! Hours were spent sitting on it, dying to turn sixteen. Not before long, I hit sixteen and was off and away. So on and so forth.

It was meant to be... except for the paddington bear pyjamas.

My father has been a biker since I was about two years old and when you have grown up with countless evenings, sat on your dad's knee, scrolling through eBay looking at all the great, fast bikes on there. The occasional trips to the hairdressers where I would nag my dad to take me in  to the local motorbike dealer, just for a look at all these huge, powerful bikes. When I got a little bit older I began to read magazines over my dad's shoulder, my knowledge and thirst for more grew.

I remember times when I had just started middle school and I saw my Dad ready to pick me up at the gates. I remember the excitement as I saw the leather jacket and helmet. Over the moon, I swung my leg over the back seat and hung on tight. The noisy, spluttering V twin roared beneath us and we were off. All of my mates looking and pointing at us. It was fantastic, even if it only lasted a few minutes. They were jealous - and I was loving it.

The shadow... The bike that made me realise biking was for me

That bike was an 80s maroon Honda 1100 Shadow - a very rare bike. That has been one of my all time favourite motorcycles and I can tell you, it's purely because of that moment of feeling like the coolest kid around. A moment never to be forgotten.

Of course, after most of my life spent wishing to ride a motorbike and dreaming of being as cool as my Dad, I was hungry to get one as soon as I could. He was obviously my inspiration - how could he not inspire his son to want a bike? The cool racing leathers he wore, the sportsbikes, the classics, the cruisers, the tinted visors, the noise, the speed. It was all so much to desire.

What were your inspirations in getting your bike? Were they similar to mine? And were you glad they happened?

I wouldn't be sat in this chair, writing this blog to post on the internet if I hadn't been inspired by my father. There would be no YouTube channel. No trips. No S.L.A.P. And I really don't think I would be the same person at all.

Strange how things work out isn't it?

Do you need a big bike to be a 'biker'?

I distinctly remember two trips (of hundreds) to my local bike cafe. They were both inside June 2012, a month after passing my bike test. The first, I raced down the Bridgnorth road on my little Yamaha Yzf R125; polluting Shropshire's quiet, calm farms with the deafening exhaust note protruding from my Remus Powercone.

After fifteen minutes of 12,000 rpm,  I pulled up at the cafe on a fairly quiet friday afternoon, wearing my one piece Spyke leathers and my usual Shoei lid. I grabbed a usual cup of tea and went to sit outside to enjoy the glorious sunshine with my fellow bikers - or so I thought.

Myself on the Yamaha Yzf R125

I was ignored. I attempted to speak to the regulars and I got the odd mumble and a shrug. I tried to nod and say hello to the new people turning up and I still got nothing. Puzzled, I swung my leg over the little 125 and blasted off.

Two weeks later, I returned on my Suzuki Sv650s. Grinning behind my tinted visor, proud of myself for finally getting a big bike, I raced down the cafe on a sunny Saturday. I pulled up again, wearing the same gear, drank the same tea, on the same bench - and I was having people speak to me.

The weirdest thing was, was that nothing had changed - I had the same full leathers, the same tinted visor and was sat in the same spot. I didn't even have L plates on the 125 as I had received my full license. The only difference was having a bike with an extra 525cc.

Is this right though?

When you ride, do you nod to Scooters still? Do you nod to Harleys? What about Yzf R125 riders in full leathers? Or do you require a 'big fast bike' to receive any sort of recognition from the biker community.

It's a form of snobbery. And I don't like it.