When I was last in Genova I was sitting outside the Teatro Cafe in Piazza Marsala , drinking a coffee and reading the FT, as one does, when a Harley Davidson pulled up. Like mine it was an 883 Sportster, but unlike mine, it was painted in a menacing Matt Black instead of the more showy chrome.
It was like anti-matter on wheels.
The leather clad biker dismounted and removed their helmet. She then brushed her long blonde hair back off her face and crossed the road into the Carrefour.
Wow!
Casually I sauntered over to take a closer look at the Bike. Well impressive, with the shockers and brake cylinders finished in Red to set the whole thing off.
Bikes are the perfect fusion of form and function. They do what they do perfectly and yet manage to look so cool whilst doing it. As a rider you have to not only play the part, but be the part.
Leathers are crucial to the image.
As are shades, mine of course, have prescription lenses. A colour co-ordinated helmet and gloves complete the image.
Yesterday, following two weeks of rain and two months in the shed whilst we were in Genova, the Harley started with the first turn of the key and then it was off to where? at the filling station a chap asked 'where are you heading?'
'Oh, you know', I said, 'for a ride'.
And with that I set off for Scotland.
Actually Scotland is only seven miles away but it felt faintly heroic to be visiting another country and the Langholme to Annan Road, the B6357 whilst not Route 66 offers 25 Kilometre's of perfect riding.
Especially on a glorious June day with the soundtrack of the V Twin for company.
Almost the whole ride was 'in the moment', the sound of the engine, the feel of the road, the acceleration and the braking, there were just two moments when my mind started to drift. The first was when I passed the sign welcoming me to Scotland in Gaelic - Fàilte. The second was when I travelled past the wedding rooms in Gretna and saw the sign welcome to England.
I found myself wondering what might be the implications of an independent Scotland and what might be the implication if Carlisle became Scottish as a part of re-drawing what has been a very movable border historically. Carlisle has been Scottish during at least three periods of history and was returned to English Rule in 1157 only to be returned to Scotland in 1217.
The Border Reivers are a powerful memory in this part of the world and the cursing stone in Carlisle Castle is a reminder of that turbulent period with the Reivers names carved into the pavement.
The economic benefits that might follow from independence, from University Tuition fees, Elder Care and Fishing Licences are considerable, which is why so many English folk choose to retire into Scotland.
It will be interesting to see whether as Scotland votes for independence the citizens of Carlisle vote to Join them or not ...............
It was like anti-matter on wheels.
The leather clad biker dismounted and removed their helmet. She then brushed her long blonde hair back off her face and crossed the road into the Carrefour.
Wow!
Casually I sauntered over to take a closer look at the Bike. Well impressive, with the shockers and brake cylinders finished in Red to set the whole thing off.
Bikes are the perfect fusion of form and function. They do what they do perfectly and yet manage to look so cool whilst doing it. As a rider you have to not only play the part, but be the part.
Leathers are crucial to the image.
As are shades, mine of course, have prescription lenses. A colour co-ordinated helmet and gloves complete the image.
Yesterday, following two weeks of rain and two months in the shed whilst we were in Genova, the Harley started with the first turn of the key and then it was off to where? at the filling station a chap asked 'where are you heading?'
'Oh, you know', I said, 'for a ride'.
And with that I set off for Scotland.
Actually Scotland is only seven miles away but it felt faintly heroic to be visiting another country and the Langholme to Annan Road, the B6357 whilst not Route 66 offers 25 Kilometre's of perfect riding.
Especially on a glorious June day with the soundtrack of the V Twin for company.
Almost the whole ride was 'in the moment', the sound of the engine, the feel of the road, the acceleration and the braking, there were just two moments when my mind started to drift. The first was when I passed the sign welcoming me to Scotland in Gaelic - Fàilte. The second was when I travelled past the wedding rooms in Gretna and saw the sign welcome to England.
I found myself wondering what might be the implications of an independent Scotland and what might be the implication if Carlisle became Scottish as a part of re-drawing what has been a very movable border historically. Carlisle has been Scottish during at least three periods of history and was returned to English Rule in 1157 only to be returned to Scotland in 1217.
The Border Reivers are a powerful memory in this part of the world and the cursing stone in Carlisle Castle is a reminder of that turbulent period with the Reivers names carved into the pavement.
The economic benefits that might follow from independence, from University Tuition fees, Elder Care and Fishing Licences are considerable, which is why so many English folk choose to retire into Scotland.
It will be interesting to see whether as Scotland votes for independence the citizens of Carlisle vote to Join them or not ...............
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