Dainese Super Speed D-Dry jacket review

I bought this jacket a little over a year ago now and have covered around 9000 miles in it. Here's what I think...

When someone says Dainese you instantly think of two things: 'Protection' and 'Style'. This jacket is no exception. The jacket I bought was in the Black/Gull-grey colour scheme so is fairly low key and looks quite stealthy. However, there are several other colour options available (the hi-viz one is quite cool) if you fancy splashing a bit of colour to the jacket.

The jacket breaks down into two parts. There is the outer textile jacket with a fully removable D-Dry membrane on the inside. There is no thermal lining as this is a two/three season jacket really - it doesn't perform it's best in the depths of a UK winter or in really bad rain.

D-Dry membrane works a treat

D-Dry is Dainese's version of Gore-Tex if you like - it's a breathable, waterproof membrane that really works. It has never leaked for me but as the outer jacket constists of mainly mesh it can absorb the water up pretty fast. The water will never get through the D-Dry liner but the main jacket can still be fairly soggy the next day when you put it on. If it's hammering it down what I usually do is put a cheap waterproof over jacket on top just to help keep the rain off the Super Speed to avoid the damp feeling I'd get later on.

On a brighter note, when it gets pretty hot you can completely remove the D-Dry membrane and are left with an almost completely ventilated summer jacket and it is so nice. I may have only taken the lining out a handful of times over the past year but when I have, it almost makes the jacket worth all the compromises that you make in heavy rain. The jacket has sleeve length mesh panels to let air through your arms which is nice. There's also mesh paneling on the chest, sides and pretty much the whole of your back.

Shoulder protectors do the job and look the business
but make sure you don't scuff them!

The jacket has two exterior aluminium shoulder protectors which not only look pretty damn cool but also function as plate to try and prevent your collarbone from shattering in the event of a crash. They also are more likely to slide when hitting the floor rather than catching and tumbling like most textiles would. The only downside with these protectors is that only Dainese can replace them... so if you scuff up one of yours leaning against a wall having a chat - it'll cost you. Mine are slightly scuffed but I guess it doesn't bother me too much.

Manis G1 back protector insert

The jacket comes with CE certified elbow and shoulder armour but no back protector is provided. This is because it is recommended that you wear a strap-around one as they're much safer than an insert (they cover more of your back and won't move around much) but if you're lazy (like me) they provide a pocket for either a Dainese Manis G1 or G2 back protector. These back protectors are CE certified to level 2, they're comfy too which is good and they move laterally as well as with your spine. I went for the G1, which is the slightly shorter one, just because it fits me a little better. What's great is that Dainese won't charge you any extra for a longer pocket back protector - so buy which one fits you best. 

The only thing this jacket really lacks is pockets. There are two external side pockets which are obviously not waterproof (not even water resistant really) and that's pretty much it. There are two slots on each side of your chest which are actually designed for chest protectors - I guess you could use these as pockets but I wouldn't trust them that far as the lining is quite thin.

But here I am moaning about it feeling a bit damp around the wrists if it's been wet and whining that there's not enough pockets but at the end of the day - this isn't what the jacket is primarily for. It's a short, sporty lightweight textile jacket aimed for those nice summer or spring days which occasionally have the chance of the odd shower. I bought it with trips to Spain and Italy in mind as I can just imagine taking out the lining and having all that breeze flowing through the jacket.

Reflective panels that don't necessarily look reflective when not under light - Smart

If you want a jacket with pockets and touring capabilites you might be looking at the wrong one... but if you want quick blasts around in the warm weather with the odd chance of rain, maybe even to take on a foreign hot country trip - this is a great jacket to go for and I'd highly recommend it.

My thoughts on 'new' Honda...

Honda is the largest motorcycle manufacturer in Japan. In 1969 the legendary CB750 was born; a 120mph inline four with a front disc brake - way ahead of anything else at it's time. It made an impact on English bike manufacturers, stealing sales and (along with the Kawasaki Z1) was the beginning of an end to British motorcycles.

21 years later (in England anyway) the Vfr750r Rc30 was released. This homologation model of the already brilliant Vfr750 was put on the road to allow Honda to race it in the world superbike championship. This bike could reach 82mph in first gear and weighed just 180kg dry. Once again, Honda had developed a class leading bike.

Iconic machine: Vfr750r Rc30

In 1992 the original FireBlade was released. The Honda four injected the idea of saving weight and improving aerodynamics as opposed to just ramming as much horsepower into big, heavy slogs - it weighed 34kg less than the lightest rival, Yamaha Fzr1000. It was an amazing bike.

All three of those bikes have reached a 'classic' status along with many other Hondas (Nr750, Rvf 750 etc...) and are worth a fortune. They broke barriers down, they came up with new and original ideas. Their engine reliability is legendary (despite a small dodgy patch... Vf750 era). Their bikes have won Moto Gps, TT races and world superbike championships...

... So what on earth has happened?

The 2014 Honda range looks a bit... dull.

Perhaps it's just me but I'm getting pretty tired of every new Honda bike being released with that weird, triangular, 'Y' shaped headlight - it makes every bike look the same and the face of the bike look like a donkey. It's also pretty easy to guess at what colours their new bikes will be released in, you'll have a choice of; 'bland reddish pink' or 'old man grey'.

 

Anyone else sick of it?

Forgive me if I'm wrong but they have 9 different engines (above 450cc) which have been shared around a whopping 22 different bikes. They haven't even bothered to retune some of them despite putting them in different variations of bike, for instance the Cbr500r has the exact same power delivery, gearing etc... as a Cb500x. As I said before, they all share the same style headlight  and dull colouring and I'm not sure about you, but I think it's nice to stand out from the crowd and have people interested in the bike you're riding. Imagine a world where everyone rode a grey Cross runner... So why do they insist on everything looking like one?

Can you actually tell the difference at a glance...?

But quite possibly, the worst thing about Honda's 2014 range is definitely the new Vfr800f. The last Vfr 800 Vtec had divided opinions due to it's quirky engine character. However, after ten years without any changes, it still didn't look too outdated and was still a damn good bike - although on the expensive side.

However the new Vfr800f has dissapointed me. I was really excited when I heard about a new Vfr, as they're bikes I've always admired, but what a let down, I couldn't actually work out why Honda had done such a thing. It actually looks like a chinese rip off 125. The gorgeous twin underseat exhausts from the previous Vfr have been ditched for a boring silencer that looks as mean as my Nan's hairdryer, totally blocking that iconic single sided swingarm (which is the only part of the bike that still looks decent).

Do the words 'bland' and 'cheap' come to mind?

They've also added 'self-cancelling indicators' - Wow Honda! How did we all manage before? I mean come on, if they're cutting costs so much then why invest in such pointless technology? ABS, traction control, heated grips and an adjustable seat height are all included in the standard price which, I think, is similar to the previous model's. This sounds pretty good, although if it were down to me I'd ditch the heated grips and traction control to make way for the decent sportsbike image that this bike deserves, not the Chinese look. It may be a sports tourer now but the heritage is still there. Don't make it boring just yet.

Believe it or not, despite all of this ranting from me, I think that they are producing decent bikes. The new 500 range might be cheating by sharing the same engine and looks from other bikes but they are such great value for money. They produce 47bhp (ideal for A2 license holders), kick out 80mpg and are only £500 more expensive than a Yamaha Yzf R125. The Fireblade Sp looks amazing too and I guess hope can hold out for the new Vfr800f... Although it's never going to win me over. Reliability is amazing on all bikes and the finishes are brilliant, I'd put all of my faith in one of these bikes to take me everywhere, all year round.

So Honda might be good in building solid, real-world machines but I think that bright flare they once had has started to flicker.

Let's hope they burn bright again one day.

What's your dream bike garage?

Come on, we've all thought about it: "What would I do if I won the lottery..." is a question which is both exciting and thought provoking but also a bit of a kick in the balls - the fact it's not really going to happen.

Sweep skepticism aside for a moment and have a bit of fun. What would you fill your garage with? Sports or adventure? Old or new? Japanese or European?

Would it look like this? (picture courtesy of www.gezagear.com)

Personally, I think I would have a bike which was there purely for road trips. Although I've never ridden one, I would love a Royal Enfield Classic T5 in battle green; slow, reliable and timeless, the bike would be loaded up with a few ammo boxes as panniers and a high level exhaust. With my love for V twins and classic sportsbikes, a Ducati 916 would be sat under a blanket - ready for those sunny days. I would have some heavily modified Victory Hammer with pipes that make your ears bleed and a back tyre wider than the Vicar of Dibley. A do-it-all bike, most likely a KTM 990SMT, a few more classics and a few more mad ones. And of course, I'd buy all of my old bikes back again - who wouldn't?

...or this? (courtesy of www.bikeexif.com)

As daft as that paragraph may seem, I think it's a good thing to have a dream bike garage of your own. Although it is reasonably unrealistic for most, it does give us good targets to reach for. Yes, you may never own a Ducati 916, r1200Gs and a Suzuki Kettle all at the same time - but maybe you could own one of them. Perhaps this dream bike garage makes us realise what bikes we really desire or maybe which types of bikes we crave for.

But if someone were to ask you "If you could have any single bike in the world what would you have?" that beautiful, two stroke triple Gt750 might not be top of your list anymore. The more 'real-world', modern, all rounder BMW may be the answer. Of course it might not be but it makes you think about what bike you actually want... or think you should have.

You may wish to own a 2014 'big bang' R1 and I can tell you; if you really want one, you'll have one, one day. Whether that's next year on finance, or in twenty years time when they're less than £1500. If you really want one, it's easily possible. You may have to skint yourself out, you may have to wait a couple of decades, but it will roll onto your driveway one day. Just keep the dreams alive.

Although, I will wish my best of luck to the poor git that dreams of an Nr750...

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.

How I almost quit motorcycling

February 2011. The lights turn red and I hit the brakes. Donnell pulls up next to me on his Motorhispania, revving the little yellow 50 like there's no tomorrow. A grin is hidden behind my black visor. I blip the throttle on my Hyosung Gv125 a few times, the four stroke V twin purrs beneath me. The exhaust of the Motorhispania next to me, crackles and pops, emitting a cloud of blue, 2 stroke haze. The lights turn green.

A regular day out on the bikes soon turned into a nightmare

The fading sun of a February evening lingers for one last glimpse, before eventually giving in to the inky black sky. I'm gliding through the lamp-lit streets. Donnell just in front of me, crouching over his bike, determined to lose me. Still smirking, I twist the throttle back again. I start to creep closer. Still accelerating, I look down at my speedo to see how fast I was going. I looked back up.

That's when it all changed.

My mischievous laughter turns into a yell of shock. Donnell's brake lights were on. He was slowing down, fast. With not a lot of stopping distance, I look to drive around him but I see an on coming bus. I have no choice but to slam on the brakes.  A blur of colour and light swirled around my eyes. I hit the floor hard and slid across the road, my head hitting the floor.

I was lay in the road for what seemed hours. Nothing was going through my head. I was just blank. I gingerly got to my feet and stared at my bike. Still, nothing was going through my head. I could see Donnell picking our bikes up. I rushed over to help but yet again, my mind was paralysed. I just stared. Donnell's faint voice began to grow louder and louder, shouting to flick my sidestand out.

Eventually, I processed what he was saying, putting my bike on it's stand. I sat on a nearby wall, shaking. Not quite sure what was going on, my mind was a total block. Donnell was still talking to me. I could hear him, but I couldn't take anything in. I simply stared at what was once, a great conditioned bike.

The next day I began to seriously consider giving up biking. I began to convince myself that they were dangerous. I tried to make myself think that they were a stupid, impractical idea. Despite the freedom and joy that motorcycles have given me over the past 14 months, I was forcing myself to get rid of my 125. I didn't ride my bike for a few weeks, it remained untouched in the garage. I had lost all motivation.

But then I began to think about Guy Martin, Connor Cummins, Ian Hutchinson... TT racers that had all crashed a few months ago. They're all now back on their bikes, racing again. I then turned my thoughts to my father, who had suffered a terrible motorcycle crash back when I was twelve. He too, was back on a bike as soon as he could and still rides today. Which made me think... What sort of big, girl's blouse am I?

Never give up on something you love

I felt ashamed of myself, and still do. I'd had a relatively minor slip, walking out unscathed and began to consider giving up. Why give up on something that has changed my life so much? Those weak excuses for not having a bike flew straight out of my mind and have not since returned to this day.

I jumped on my Hyosung and have never looked back since. And I know for sure, that I never will.

Why road trips are so important to me

The early morning fog lingers over empty roads, the resonating sound of birds chirping echoes through your ears and the icy, cold wind bites your cheeks. A mixture of wonder, fear and suspense fill your veins. You roll your heavily loaded bike out of the garage, checking your oil level, tyre pressures and chain tension. You start the bike.

You're ready.

A leg is swung over the bike, you hit first gear and you trundle off into the morning sun. Over the next few days you'll be visiting places you've never been before. You'll bond over a few beers at the end of a hard days riding. You'll have ups, downs and everything in the middle. But when you come out of it at the end; the ups will be cherished, the downs will be laughed at and everything in the middle will be remembered fondly.

That's a road trip.

One of our smaller road trips to Barmouth, but a magnificent journey never the less.

It's something I'd never even considered when I bought my 50cc. But as an anxious sixteen year old, I loaded up my little Derbi and as soon as the wheels rolled off my drive on that fateful day, I was converted.

A road trip by motorcycle is so much more involved than one by car. Motorcyclists are highly exposed to the elements. We get blown around by winds, soaked by rain and dried out by the sun, it's something that car drivers take for granted inside their little, heated box. However, I don't see this exposure as a curse. Surely, battling through the bitter weather and coming out of it in the end smiling would make you proud? To me, it's something you can fondly look back on in retrospect.


To all of those who haven't had the pleasure of embarking on a road trip, just jump on your bike and go. It doesn't matter how much you spend, how far you go or what bike you're on. Anything's possible.

Over three years ago, four sixteen year old lads with paper rounds scraped together £50 and took their little 50cc bikes to the Welsh coast. It's four days of my life that I will never forget. If we could do it, anyone can.

It wasn't a booze-up. It wasn't a holiday. It was a road trip.

Says it all

The long Journey home...

I knew that the outward journey would always be simpler than the return journey. But I just didn’t realise how much more simple it would be. On my journey to the Charente, the 450 miles from Folkestone seemed like a daunting prospect in the mind of an eighteen year old on a 33bhp bike. But little did I know, the 680 miles I had to ride on the journey home would be so much more daunting, with all of my fears rolling into this one, epic journey home.

However, my father accompanied me on his G650GS on the trip down, which made it rather straight forward – follow the Beemer’s back tyre. Predictably, it was uneventful and everything went as planned, I didn’t even ride onto the wrong side of the road. The only things I had to complain about was the resemblance of my backside looking like a baboon’s and the 38 degree heat wafting through my helmet, feeling like someone was holding a hairdryer to your face.

After a week or so in the sun, exploring the country roads and the quirky French villages, it was time to start up the SV once more and ride back up to England – alone. I had just less than 700 miles to do today so sensibly, I decided to head off early to give myself plenty of time to reach Calais, in case any dramas occurred.

For some reason I had built up this terrific fear of the French Gendarmes. I don’t know why, perhaps it’s the guns on their guns on their hips or the stories I’ve heard of them seizing bikes for speeding – most likely the guns.

I was approaching Tours on the A10 toll road, and had just finished paying the 19€ when this Gendarme stood in front of my bike and pointed at me. I remember very clearly the two words that I kept repeating to myself: “Shit, fuck, shit, fuck…”

He shouted over in English, “Eh you, over here” And then gestured to this small layby where there were four or five Gendarme vans and a group of Gendarmes staring at me pulling up. I was the only vehicle that had been pulled to the side.

I was bewildered, had I been caught speeding? Is my Remus Revolution too loud? Is it my iPod headphones poking out of my jacket? All of these concerns and worries started hitting me as I started giving myself reasons to get in trouble. I even looked up at the sky and was praying for my bike not to be taken off me, I love it too much.

The man that had instructed me to pull over walked alongside my bike and asked me for my documents which, luckily, I had remembered to pack last minute. I decided to stay sitting on the bike as I had read somewhere that getting off your bike is a sign of aggression in foreign countries, I don’t know if that really is true but just this once I didn’t want to chance anything.

An attractive female dog handler walked over to me and told me to take my helmet off and step off my bike. I did so, sneakily tucking my headphones back into my pocket and turning them off. She then told me that the dog was going to sniff my bike and myself for drugs. I’m not a druggy but I was wearing second hand leathers and using a second hand tank bag - I hope that the previous owner wasn’t.

Luckily, the dog sniffed around and found nothing, so she smiled at me and told me I could go. I collected my documents and then nervously headed back onto the road. A sigh of relief fogged up my helmet as the Gendarme vans became small dots in my mirror.

I plodded on for another 110 miles and was approaching a petrol station but my fuel light hadn’t come on yet. And as soon as my front wheel had gone past the slip road, my fuel light started blinking at me. Sod’s law.

I began to panic again, how far will the next petrol station be? Am I going to get stranded in the middle of France?

I saw a sign for an aire in 10km, so I thought I wouldn’t be very conservative with my fuel. I sped off and arrived at the aire. It was two picnic tables and a car park. Oh shit.

My clocks were now on 115 miles and I’m pretty sure the reserve light only lasts 20 miles. I carried on the motorway searching everywhere until eventually I came across a sign indicating a fuel station in 38km.

I slowed down to 55mph to save some fuel and even tucked my head behind my screen to try and conserve as much fuel as possible. It was definitely not the most comfortable, fun thing that I’ve done - I even had caravans overtaking me it was that bad.

After half an hour or so, I finally arrived at the petrol station with my bike spluttering and coughing for fuel. Relief instantly swept over me. Somehow, I had managed to scrape almost 160 miles from a tank of petrol. It’s supposed to do 140 miles to a tank, so I guess the 55mph and head-down-action really helped me out there.

After the fuel experience, I vowed to always stop for fuel when I reached around 100 miles. Despite this, I still only stopped three times for fuel, in total, which I was quite proud of.

I arrived in Calais near 5 O’clock, so I decided to see if I could be put onto an earlier ferry. I rode into the port and was a lone bike in a sea of cars. After an hour of waiting to get to the booth, I learned that there were massive delays with all P&O ferries. It was horrendous. The bloke in the ticket box gave me a ticket saying “Depart: 18:10” – I boarded the ferry at nine O’clock…

I mustn’t complain though, whilst I was waiting I met a guy on an RSV1000 who had just returned from the Nurburgring and another bloke on a 1200 bandit who had rode from only 30 miles away from where I was staying.

We all sat in the cafeteria on the ferry, exchanging stories and drinking tea. It made the journey so much better, having someone to talk to, as I had endured a whole day of no conversation. We all said goodbye and jumped back on our bikes to carry on with the journey home.

I had arranged to meet Jamie, in Maidstone. So I pulled into the service station off the M20 and met my riding buddy for a bit of a morale boost and a good old McDonald’s. I even went to the shop to buy RiDE magazine and found a picture of myself on page 17!

We endured a four hour journey home in the rain and a feeling of achievement rushed over me as our wheels rolled onto my drive. It was done.

My hands were so cold; my freezer felt warm and my arse felt as sore as a convict’s but my 700 mile nightmare was over.

But when I think back about it, it was a fantastic journey. With it’s ups and downs, the sense of the unknown and the strangest feeling of being alone in a foreign country.

Just me, my SV and the long stretch of tarmac taking me all the way back home.

Fantastic.

My Biking History until now

As my 16th Birthday approached I managed to persuade my Mom to allow me to buy a motorbike. I remember the day I bought my bike, me and my Dad drove all the way to Brighton (about 200 miles away from Kidderminster) with our bike trailer attatched to the back of the car. It was a Derbi gpr 50 nude that I had bought, a very smart bike it was - totally standard though (meaning it could only just get to 50mph) and only a year old. It was a good bargain, I never had any problems with it at all, with the exception of my indicators sometimes flashing super fast - but who really cares about that?

I took my CBT when I had turned sixteen and I was a nervous wreck, terrified of the little 50cc I had. It wasn't the speed that scared me (there wasn't much of that anyway) it was the fear of dropping it and stalling at traffic lights. To be honest, my first month of riding was absolutely awful, I would prepare myself at the traffic lights and as soon as they turned green, I would panic and stall. Or at other times I would see an oncoming car and panic and go too wide around a corner (I am a bit of a dithering idiot).

Me on my 50, a few hours after passing my CBT - January 2010

Thankfully for me (and other road users) this dodgy riding didn't last long, and before I knew it I was high flying on the way to my first camping trip to Welshpool in May. I was joined by two of my riding buddies on their 50's (a Motohispania Rx50 and a Yamaha Tzr 50) and it was a pretty good trip.

The three of us setting off to Welshpool - May 2010

However, shortly after this trip I had my first accident on Father's day. I remember this because me and my Dad had decided to go for a father-son ride out and then come back home to watch the Moto GP later. There was slippy diesel on a round-a-bout which ended up with me low-siding across the road. Luckily, I was only doing about 20mph so I wasn't hurt, but for the next few weeks I had started to wince whilst going around corners as I still had the sensation of falling off my bike fresh in my mind, making my riding a lot less fun.

My mate also suffered from a slightly more serious crash down a 40mph dual carridgeway, hitting the central reservation. Whilst my other friend had rode straight into a hedge at 55mph and another coming off in the rain, and with everyone crashing I was starting to feel a little anxious about whether having a bike was a good idea.

However, I pushed this worrying thought out of my head as we embarked on our second road trip to Fairbourne (in Wales) which had taken place in August. This trip was even better than the last and the weather was gorgeous - it couldn't get any better than this.

On the way to Fairbourne - August 2010

However, a few weeks after we had arrived home the winter was approaching and there wasn't much riding time left, and with my 17th Birthday coming closer I had to make a decision - Do I learn to drive a car or stick with the bikes?

It turned out I wanted to try and do both on two paperounds and a measly McDonald's wage. So I sold my 50 and bought a Hyosung Gv 125 Aquila for around about the same price - I still saw my bike as my top priority. The Hyosung was alright but wasn't a massive difference from the 50 to the 125 it was very heavy and slow, it did look like a huge bike but it certainly didn't go like one, which was a shame really. I was also really keen to buy some loud pipes for it but nowhere supplied any. I never really had much of an emotional attatchment with this bike - don't get me wrong it's a great bike but I drive like a maniac and this bike really was never made for that.

The Aquila - January 2011

I also managed to save up to buy a Saxo to learn to drive. I found driving a car quite fun although it had none of the adrenaline rush of being on a bike. I really tried to keep my car lessons going, as a car is so much more practical during the winter and rainy days (which we have a lot of in the UK). However, I knew that I could never afford the insurance (£4200!!) and decided to sell it and then spend all of my money on a bike, which I did.

My little car - March 2011

In June, six months after buying the Hyosung, I bought a Yamaha Yzf R125 which is the best bike i've ever bought - it is truely amazing. It has a remus exhaust, K&N air filter and tail tidy. It really does sound mean and looks it too. It will probably be the best looking bike I could ever afford, I really cannot criticise it in anyway other than it doesn't have USD forks or a forged yoke which would improve the handling, as compared to it's regular telescopic forks and (reasonable high) clip on handlebars.

Me and my Yamaha - June 2011

 A few months later our third and latest road trip took place. We went to Woolacombe which is in North Devon and it was a brilliant trip although the weather was nothing compared to year before (look at my articles for more info on the trips).

The campsite in Woolacombe - August 2011

I'm still riding this bike now and I will be upset the day I will sell it for something faster, i've definitely developed a bond with this bike. So that's where I am now, when my test is done expect to see and hear about some other awesome machinery.

Tom