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?

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.