A wet Wednesday ride home.

[rictus01]

Time to go, last orders were called some time ago and the last topic of conversation has wound down, people are on the move. The proceeding three hours of downpour seems to have temporarily abated, I collect my road gear from under the table and don the familiar leather as a second skin.

Making our way out into the night, the last of our group head to the car park, a little banter and conversation is curtailed by the start of the rain again, a round of firm handshakes and goodbyes follows, and people depart in their mode of transport.

It’s dark, the evenings rain has turned the world into a sodden place now joined by the heavy rainfall once more, up against the wall at the back of the car park to avail myself of whatever little protection it can provide: I put on my over trousers.

Getting on the bike it barks into life with the first stab of the button, the normal throaty roar muffled by the sheer volume of the rain.
As I pull away I give a brief wave to the last rider in the car park and head for the exit, the headlight revels vertical waves of rain: windblown across my path, the road markings obscured by a sheet of water on the ground, this promises to be an interesting ride home, I joint the public highway.

I have three things in my favor; I know the route well, great tyres & brakes and a needle sharp focused mind for the task ahead.

The water down to the roundabout is moving faster than me, and I use a good deal of caution going through the six inch deep puddle that’s collected there, then it’s straight up the hill, I look up to see what looks like the whole road surface flowing down to meet me, and lay down some gentle throttle, bike upright the tyres cut through and I find the grip I need, noting the slight bow wave generated, I search for the maximum level of traction, and accelerated off into the night.

No need to wipe the visor, as the rain is heavy enough to do that for me, the price you pay is a viewable world distorted by a wall of water, I change my visual perception to one of reacting to the visual ques I can pick out and adjust my speed accordingly, my concentration narrows to the point of peripheral awareness of mirrors; in dealing with the hazards ahead.

A single tail light at the top of the hill and the traffic lights on red let me know it’s one of our group, and I back off to allow the lights to change without coming to a stop. He’s seen me and after the lights pulls in to the left to allow me passed, I raise my left hand and away down from the crest I go. The tyres limitations quickly become apparent, although the aquaplaning characteristics if not predictable are manageable, I hit the bottom of the hill, with a good amount of speed, to see a car turning onto my lane ahead, so throttle back. A wall of red, I can’t see!! The knob in the car about twenty miles an hour with his fog lights on! I know there is another lane next to him and that it ends the other side of the bridge, but I can’t see enough to use it, I back off some more and bide my time across the bridge.
I pull out really wide on the straight beyond the bridge (one of the good things about knowing the route) so the wall of red light is only peripheral and can see the road ahead, gunning the motor the back steps out a little, but I slap it back into place, the knob is history.

It’s like riding down a river, saved from being a fatal experience by the feedback from tyres and brakes, I push the limits of speed and traction, it’s an adrenaline fuelled rollercoaster ride, just remaining within my abilities, but only just.

I know it’s going to happen, and I’m raking my brain to remember the undulations of the route as I approach each bend, and here it is, I hit the lefthander at an exciting speed, the wall of generated water tells me it’s a good 15-18 inches deep, I let the bouncing bars use my palms as back stops and momentum carries me through, although waterproof, my boots can’t stop the ingress of water from above and that last stunt is rewarded by the feel of wet feet, but no time now for that sort of thing.

I hit a couple more large puddles before turning off the main road, but by now they are fun as apposed to the degree of fear the first induced.

On the back roads there are no lights, no road markings (not that you could see them now anyway) and all you have is your headlight and reactions, but wait! The world is illuminated, lightning turns night to day and for a brief second you can see everything, then it’s gone.

One flash, I spot the approaching apex and it’s gone, I remember the spot and aim blindly for it, it comes into the cone of light shed from the bike just where I expected, a perfect corner, if I do say so. This goes on all the way to the back of Biggin Hill.

Riding through the town, it has that defused orange from the street lights, but not another vehicle is out now and the road is all mine. Out pass the airport and turn into Saltbox hill.
Gravity and the waterfall that used to be the road, mean I don’t need any throttle, and I daren’t touch the brakes as that would be the surest way of losing what little control I have, no; gentle balance guides me between the rough bank and the drop off down the road to the bottom of the hill, here I go through the foot deep puddle and start up the other side, the rain, gradient and debris, serve to give the impression of battling up a raging waterfall, fortunately the tyres find the grip they need and progress is made.

Into the back of New Addington, the roads are awash, but it’s really not that difficult to manage, so once again the pace increases, apart from the odd slip on a tram track the rest of the journey is anticlimactic. I pull up in the front garden, turn the key, WOW, what a ride, getting off the bike I can feel the shakes as I come down from the adrenaline rush.
Disrobing from my wet gear, I park myself in my chair with a coffee. I enjoyed that.



It's all good practice for the Selkent rideouts anyway.

Cheers Mark.

So, was it raining then?

Originally Posted by chazzyb

So, was it raining then?

nah, it was just a light sprinkle.