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?

I love commuting!

It’s something I’ve always said that I’ve never wanted to do.

I’ve never liked the idea of running bikes into the ground, letting the salty, muddy roads corrode your pride and joy. Surely public transport or just walking would be a worthy sacrifice to save your treasured bike?

However after recently coming into a new job, I’ve been forced into a 3 mile commute. There are no buses at 5:30am, so for the first few weeks I had a miserable 45 minute, winter walk every morning.  It was bleak and cold every morning and caused me to wake up very early to get to work on time.

Then December came. The Virago was finally on the road; a cheap and cheerful, bombproof bike that I didn’t really care about cosmetically. In my eyes, it could be thick with rust and corrosion but as long as it had that solid, reliable 35bhp engine in it, I couldn’t care less. A perfect winter hack.

So that’s what I did. Every morning since that day I have jumped on the old thumper and went off to work… and I’ve got to say, it’s fantastic.

The old lunker

Half past five, the roads are empty and quiet. Not a sound to be heard, just the rippling exhaust note and the pitter patter of rain drops on your visor; riding down a few country lanes with no light, except from the small, dim beam protruding from my rusting Yamaha’s headlight.

Although amidst the fun of the past week, there was one slight mishap. Twice on the same journey to work, my bike broke down. Angry and pissed off, I fiddled around with the electrics at the side of a round-a-bout, as previous breakdowns have been electric related. After a few wiggles I managed to get it going again. I continued onwards for another mile before breaking down yet again. Irritatingly, I had broken down at the bottom of a very dark and very wet hill. I gave up and began to push my little nail up the daunting incline.

But despite this, I still love it. Looking back on that experience, it was horrible at the time but man… it makes going to work such an adventure. And that’s what commuting does doesn’t it? It turns your dreaded journey to work into an exciting escapade and there’s no machine better to do it on than some battered up, 24 year old cruiser. Well not for me at least.

But even still, the most strange thing is, is that in the past month I have not had a single dry commute to work. I’ve rode through rain, ice and hail every day. And it’s warming to think, if it’s good now… what’s the summer commute going to be like?

Bring it on.