My first road legal outing on the Black Bullet was to the petrol station, for gas and air, and then, somewhat prosaically, to Blockbusters to return a DVD. From there, we took the Newbury Road as far as The Ridgeway and came back via Pete’s place. This comprised four starts in total and, much to my relief, the unenviable situation of struggling to start the bike under public scrutiny didn’t materialise.
The bike handles much better on the road than the farm tracks I’ve become used to, it just lacks a bit of top end. Pete had an AJS and reckons the Bullet should do 65mph, no problem. I got 50mph with the bike in its raw, un-tuned state, so there’s some work to do. But even at 50mph it was glorious.
The section into town was about listening, looking, weaving (a little) and braking, testing things out basically. After filling up and dropping off the DVD I piled on the revs up Chain Hill. At the top is what Jane calls The Money Shot, where the hedgerows drop back and a panorama of the Berkshire Downs suddenly opens up, in dramatic fashion.
It has been said that in a car you look at the world through a screen, a bit like TV, even with the window down it’s in a frame, the weather can’t touch you and you don’t necessarily feel the speed. On a bike you’re no longer a spectator. If it rains you get wet, if you fall off it hurts but it blows the cobwebs away and you do get to enjoy an unrestricted view.
The Money Shot was spectacular this afternoon, a late sun bursting through broody low-slung cloud, the landscape all gold and green. It was cold but the old bike jacket and new gloves worked a treat. A long shadow on the way back emphasised how up in the saddle the riding position is. Unlike a modern bike, which you effectively sit in, you’re on top of this old iron, getting a faceful of whatever’s going on.
I had the old girl wound back to the stop on a couple of curves. Again, as you’re not sitting in the bike you’re not really connected to the centre of gravity and the effect of shifting bodyweight on the handling is minimal. I’d like to think it’s a more dignified position but I do recall the pleasure available to the person who gets it right on a bendy B road in a modern sports machine. We’re not comparing apples with apples, however, and I’m not about to bolt on a pair of rear-sets.
In the spring I might get some panniers for the laptop have a go at commuting like this, meantime I’ve got the Redditch trip to organise.
