Here's a guest post from one of our members 'endemoniada_88'...
Time to go...Spring comes incrementally, out on the roads, sneaking in under the guise of a few extra minutes of daylight, a little less grey in the sky, a few degrees more on the thermometer. Occasional glimpses of the sun – ironically, moving further away from the January perihelion, where earth is at it's closest orbital point – warm both body and soul with the promise of better weather to come. Gradually, the full winter kit migrates towards the darker recesses of the cloakroom: textiles abandoned in favour of leathers, thermal gloves make way for vented kangaroo hide, Gore-Tex waterproof boots for unlined race style, even the neck warmer stays on the peg some days. Not every day, not yet, but it has started – even though the official date is still three weeks away.
You can feel it out on the tarmac, too. Grip that hasn't been there for months begins to return as the roads heat up and layers of grime and salt wash into the gutters and away. It gets a little easier to feel the tyres digging in, to have the confidence to lean into corners and come out hard on the throttle with the wheels still mostly in line and the bike still vertical. Not, in all fairness, that the temperature has much effect beyond the psychological - in practical terms, road tyres give pretty consistent grip across the spectrum. Road condition has far more of a physical effect, but never underestimate the importance of feeling comfortable and in control...
It is, though, the start of a different level of comfort. If you've just come through winter on two wheels, you already know all about the application of control, albeit in a rather narrow sense. It demands constant concentration, sticking within the limits enforced by the environment rather than bike or rider. Much as I enjoy winter riding and value the skills it teaches, it can be hard work to stay focussed to that degree – even without the additional burdens of being cold and often wet, coping with poor visibility and constant darkness. In terms of riding discipline, it's a bit like competing in trials. There is a fascinating, mathematical beauty in understanding the underlying physics and having the precise capability to execute the necessary manoeuvres...but, really, there are times when it would be more fun to just open the throttle and go hell-for-leather.
By contrast, a good spring day is like a reward - where you can do exactly that. Like finding an unexpectedly free stretch of twisties amongst endlessly congested Bank Holiday roads, it comes as a pleasant surprise and an opportunity to remember exactly why it is you chose a bike in the first place. Freed from the constraints of adapting to strict limits imposed by the conditions around you, it is a moment to let your natural riding style flow through, to rediscover the true equilibrium between you and your bike. In some respects, it's a more satisfying experience than a good summer's day, when that would be the norm - if only everybody else wasn't out and about cluttering up the roads you wanted to use...
It's not often that I'm off the bike for any length of time - so I may not be the best person to judge - but the buzz isn't the same if you stick to fair weather biking. Partly, I suppose, it's because everyday use, even in the darkest season, turns a bike into a familiar extension of yourself, like an old faithful friend. Even a week apart starts to blunt that edge, removing a layer of intuitive feel and understanding, forcing you to relearn the mechanics of what you want to do. And, partly, it's simple contrast; in much the same way that experiencing bad times makes you appreciate the good times more.
Either way, it's a pretty joyful experience to realise that, this morning (even if it is only this morning and not yesterday or tomorrow), you can do what you want on the road...
That, of course, isn't strictly true, inasmuch as the long arm of the law may choose to disagree with your personal interpretation of making forward progress under the prevailing conditions. It's something which can be a problem when conditions start to invite more – shall we say – frolicsome behaviour. Best not leave your discretion entirely at home just because the sun's out, but, actually it's still pretty much the same game it ever was...don't get caught doing anything stupid...
As a slight aside, I do sometimes wonder at the sanity of the legislators who decide what constitutes "anything stupid". My own, probably naive, take on the law is that it should be simple, understandable and enforceable. A framework, in fact, that is proscribed to reflect the abilities of the majority of road users, such that their normal mode of driving can be considered legal. Instead of which, we seem to be hellbent on a path of increasingly arbitrary restrictions imposed nationally and/or locally on a set of ground rules that haven't been updated since the days when high performance meant actually being able to reach 70 on the newly-opened M1.
Funnily enough, most of the really poor driving I see comes at sub-legal speeds, with drivers staring fixedly at their speedo and GPS, making absolutely sure that they won't be getting a ticket in the post in two weeks time. Well and good and extremely conscientious of them, but it doesn't leave a lot of room for concentrating on what is happening around them here and now: most of which concentration, in any case, seems to be taken up by blind obedience to the constant barrage of roadside instructions.
Really, is there anything more pointlessly distracting than a sign that unexpectedly flashes up beside the road to tell you what your speed is? Particularly one that ensures, in case you aren't already distracted enough, that it shows a danger signal if you're near but still below the speed limit? Words, in this particular instance, fail me. If you need that kind of help, park up now and get the bus. If you feel that others need that kind of help, kindly leave the Highways Planning department immediately and get a job in the real world.
Time for a rethink perhaps: treat your motoring population as adults, and you may be pleasantly surprised at the results.
Actually, while I'm digressing and on my soap-box anyway – it's also getting towards the time of year when I'll be wearing jeans rather than leathers for short journeys. Not because I'm ignorant of the risks, or of the potential consequences, but because I choose to accept them. That's precisely why I have spent time gaining skill and experience and learning to observe: so that I can judge that, although it could all go wrong, it won't be in an unsalvageable way. And, yes, there is always the possibility of making a mistake or having someone else's accident, but you can only ever partially mitigate against that – and where do you stop? Leathers, back protector, neck brace, airbag suit, leg protectors...give up biking altogether and buy a nice, safe Volvo? Your call, and I won't criticise your decision: probably best to return the compliment.
Getting back on subject, though, I love the spring best of all the seasons. It may be unpredictable, but that's all part of the fun. There are days that might as well be in darkest December and days that could be high summer, all mixed together but all moving in the right direction. Roadside places are starting to open, the racing calendar is back in business, there are events to go to, people to see, things to do. Fantastic. Time to get out there – if you're not already – and ride the red shift, leaving nothing behind you but the rest of the world and the dopplered howl of an open pipe on full song...
The only downside – longer days mean I get more time to see how badly my bikes need cleaning...
