This was going to be a riding weekend, that was the plan, the weather forecast was good and I had time for riding. The Ducati was at the garage for maintainence and were due to be picked up Friday afternoon. That was the plan anyway.
Unfortunately there was a rather unusual problem with the timing belt and the tension rollers… one of them were completely stuck and the belt was wearing out… ooops. So parts had been ordered and bike had to stay. I do feel fortunate that I turned her in before Christmas not waiting for the kilometres to pass by to reach the recommended mileage. There was some additional rattling noise that bothered me and a unpleasant oil leak so I thought it was time. I do know from the past what can happen with belts that are not proper taken care of… on when off once (as a result of an incompetent mechanic dealing with my bike – will tell that story one day) ruining the cylinder and leaving me stranded in the middle of nowhere.
So riding was no longer on the schedule for the weekend. Then I really had no excuse not to go shopping for those waterproof riding trousers that I’ve been needing for years. After death and illness shopping is what I hate most. I think I mentioned that last time I was in search for trousers. I’ve been without proper waterproof cordura for years now and last time I intended I failed and bought summer riding trousers instead because the task seamed imposible. But now I have a vague plan that involves Austria for this summer and I think I’ll need good gear for that. Not to mention riding to work those rainy days. Thinking of it though, I hat rain more than shopping.
Anyway, I was indeed very lucky, bought second pair I tired on. And during that time I had to explain to three shopping assistants that yes, I was aware of that I was in the men’s section and yes that was were I wanted to be. The hazzels of being tall. After shopping I went for sushi as a reward, another day I tell about when I was riding a Suzuki in Japan.
But really, I cant explain how happy I am to now have these trousers, and look how nice and long they are. The pair I bought last spring actually hardly reach the top of my boot when I sit on the bike – that is female model trousers. Fantasticly long trousers, they even have an extension bit that can be removed, if I would find them to long
Until last summer when I travelled from Sweden down to Spain to import my Ducati Monster I was almost totally ignorant when it came to maps. Usually I ride with friends going to specific places, on my own not bothering where I’m going or following a familiar path. Well, not entirely true, I did travel in Australia on my own some years ago, but there is not many roads so weak map reading skills isn’t such a big issue. Fantastic country for riding, from what I remember I was only lost twise
Anyway, last year I had to learn, and literally on the road. Of course I try to stay away form cities at almost all cost but I also had made pre arrangements for all my stays. This not needing to stress about not finding a place in the end of the day. Now I was stressing about finding my stays. I guess if your that kind of person who gets stressed easily, there will always be a reason.
Well the Netherlands and Germany went quite al right. I did arriwe very late both these days, and finding my stay in a village outside Trier was hard. Generally mistakes like that and many more like it later on is caused by not having a map detailed enough, being to tired or not wanting to ask for help. Or possibly all of that.
Later on in France I noticed after a day of riding that my problems reading the road signs were due to the colours of them. In Sweden a white sign would have no significance, instead you look for yellow signs for villages, blue for cities. When cracking this sign reading code I did much better. Another thing is that in Sweden signs towards places always displays the distance. For some reason we think that it is reassuring to know this on regular basis. There fore the road signs are put up regularly along the way so you can confirm that your on the right path. Most other countries don’t have this, and since I’m used to it I do miss it. Seing this sign there is 3 km left to ride to my parents house
While riding a bike it is time consuming to have to stop and check the map. If you have a memory like a goldfish, like I do, you stop ridiculously often. To look at the map while riding is not something I can handle, even though I seen it done. I generally break down my planned route in road numbers and cities/towns/villages that I will pass or ride towards. The when I somehow get it all wrong, I just recalculate, like an GPS but manually. Alcobendas - Pamplona in road numbers
While getting totally and utterly lost in Luxenbourg this summer I cursed my map reading and swore not to return there without either a GPS or a map reader. The problem though was that my map wasn’t detailed enough. It seemed like it would be an easy matter of following the road passing through the city but instead I ended up circulating the city for nearly 2 hours.
I got lost around Bonn in Germany for the same reason. And last year in the French Alps I asked for help showing the old man my map of the whole country of France and he sighed. I was on a road that didn’t exist on my map. So I had actually tried to learn form last year, but finding detailed maps are hard, there is not much between the country map and the super detailed road atlas. Bringing an road atlas for every country is hardly an option, at least not with my luggage possibilities. Col du Glandon - riding a road not existing on my map and feeling lost
This summer I got the possibility to experience riding with an GPS. I had high expectations. But it wasn’t as easy as it would seem. The GPS kept redirecting us to the highways and we had problems to sticking to the roads we wanted. In the end we went back to my system of writing down road numbers and names of places. Anneli is trying to make the GPS talk to her
For some reason England and Wales seamed easy to manoeuvre in. The road numbers were clearly marked and places signposted. Something I found amusing was their road markings. I’m used to roads marked with white lines, no road markings means no lines at all. In Britain the roads had the white lines and in addition to that arrows to prepare you to turn left or right and encouragements to slow down. When occasionally entering a city it was just as difficult as anywhere else though, reading signs, realising to late the turn I should have taken etc. Quite possibly it was harder than most places, since it was all done on the left side of the road.
Navigating on smaller roads and countryside I seem to have a quite good hang of now. I use photo copies of a road atlas taped to my tank when I ride out around Madrid and I always prepare it with road numbers to make riding more smooth. Riding in cities I don’t know if I ever learn well, since I get so stressed when many things are happening at the same time, then I would still prefer a map reader whispering in my ear where to turn so I can fully concentrate on the traffic. Out and about with a photocopy of road atlas tejped to the tank
Some people say that motorsport is best seen on TV and I can partly agree. Being there at the circuit living and breathing the excitement is an amazing feeling but on TV you can see it all close up. The good bits from every corner of the circuit are nicely delivered to you with re-runs of exciting events. Live on the grandstand you miss out on some things while experiencing others.
Truly though is that for me nothing is better than live, even in the cold and rain. But to sum that up with a re-run on the projector when being warm and comfy on the sofa makes it all complete. To re-live the Valencian GP was just as exciting as seeing it live. Now I got to see what really happened in that first corner and I didn’t know that Dovizioso, Pedrosa and Spies overtook each other that many times, plus the chase over the finish line when Stoner reclaimed the first position by 0.015 seconds was amazing to see. Apart from that the broadcast from BBC included a lot of interviews and last tributes to Simoncelli.
