As a 19 year old lad, I've never done the hitch hiking to get to Wigan or daft train routes to get to the Mecca etc... And now things have changed on the soul scene and these kind of acts are rare i imagine. However, on the scooter scene, the journey there is still and integral part of the scene. We still battle the elements , reliability issues and just about every other road user to get to destination. Theres still such a buzz and sense of achievement when you see the "Welcome to..." sign a feeling of making it despite the odds. Many of the machines are getting on 50+ years old, and these little moped were never designed to do hundreds of miles in a day laden with luggage and camping gear.... In a few weeks time I'm going to attempt a 600+ mile round trip to Dorset and back, just to get my fix of music, two stroke and banter.
Heres one journey i've already written up for a magazine;
Due to prior commitments, I couldn’t set off to Bridlington till about 2:30 on the Friday afternoon from south Cumbria. The plan was to meet my mate Wal from the Young Guns SC who was riding up from Telford, on the other side of York. Much of the morning was spent killing time and checking my Jet200 over. 2:30 couldn’t come soon enough; I was eager with excitement at both the ride and getting to Bridlington itself. I got a few warning texts of Wal telling me how cold it was riding. No problem I thought, my big thick “submariners” woolly jumper and armoured riding gear would keep me warm… So I set off and sure enough the cold started to set in and it really did feel bitter. My route took me via Kirkby Lonsdale, and I managed to get stuck behind every slow moving vehicle known to man! It was like the stars had aligned against me. My frustration was made worse by the fact I set off so late in the day. Slowly, I managed to get past all the tractors, lorries and trailers. Only to pull in for fuel and watch it all go past me again! Like before, I slowly had to overtake all these again and made good time. The next challenge was Harrogate, I always hate riding through the town. Long tailbacks are almost a certainty. However, to my surprise it wasn’t too bad and after another quick fuel stop I made decent progress. I could really feel the cold now, as rode onwards to York. I got to the meeting place after what felt like an eternity, and the stop couldn’t come soon enough. Light was starting to fade a little, but sure enough Wal arrived, a little later than expected. Both of us, feeling like scooter riding ice burghs agreed on a brew stop in Stamford Bridge. The much needed warm up and cup of coffee did wonders, and we hit the rode once again. By now, it had pretty much gone pitch black. It felt like the blind leading the blind as we snaked through the north Yorkshire country side, as neither standard T5 Mk1 lights nor Lambretta lights are much cop. As we pushed on wards to Brid, we got caught in some sleety/rain, which would stay with us all the way there. The only good thing about the dark and sleet, was that it took your mind off the freezing cold as you had to concentrate so much on your riding. Every cars lights that went past us, seemed to wipe out our headlight beams and highlight every drop of rain or mark on our visors. It was tough going. A fire engine zoomed passed with it lights flashing, so I dipped the clutch and break a little to slow down as it passed. The next thing I knew my clutch cable had snapped! I decided, it would be best to carry on riding without stopping. The last thing I wanted to do was to spend hours on the side of the road in the pitch black and pouring rain. I remember thinking at every roundabout, “please don’t have to stop!” We pushed on to Brid and eventually got there at about 7:45. After pulling a few wheelies around town when snapping the scooter into gear, I decided to push it the last hundred or so yards to my B&B.