The Dry Map Run 
The Dry Map Run
The Clutch, the G-String and the Cream Tea
Well, the advertised Dry Map Run certainly lived up to its name. Not a rain drop in sight, in fact not even a cloud in the perfect blue August sky. And our route was equally perfect, through some of the best of Hampshire and Dorset's countryside, old and new. A definite case of lifting the GPM (grin per mile) rather than the MPG. We even had some culture with a sight of Hardy's Monument. But strange events lurked among such perfection, and would I really expect such a discerning reader as you to believe it would be so "cute-sy" and nice?
Firstly there were dark rumours. Allegations were circulating. The BMW brand - traditionally so reliable - once again dominated the group, but it seemed someone was letting the side down by bringing along a dodgy specimen, one with a slipping clutch and other shortcomings. But would anyone admit to this? The only resolution was to prove it out with a testing run. Shucks, what a chore! But professionals to the core, we of course embarked on our task with relish.
And as mechanical performance came under scrutiny, another challenge developed - this time to the English language. Initially it seemed that the group was having some strange interference on the radio, the likes of which had been not been heard before. But it seemed to repeat, usually at fast sharp corners. Was there in fact a pattern? Was it in fact a form of Old English? Ah, yes - now we recognise it - Anglo Saxon!! Perhaps one of our number was finding it hard going.
Amongst that levity, a serious point. Riding should be smooth and progressive, as well as brisk and safe. So what was that red light appearing before each corner (and occasionally in the straits!). Dodgy electrics? Even after being profiled in the last run? Or did we have an IAM rider lurking unannounced in our midst?
But back to the main challenge. The morning's run had not produced any evidence of a deficient clutch, and even with the additional load of The Big Wicked Breakfast, neither did the afternoon's route. After 250 gruelling miles of man and machine bonding, the prime suspect had not been caught out ... or caught up with. The assembled jury had no option but to return a not guilty verdict.
Then as we relaxed and the day was reviewed over a genteel Cream Tea in the classic genteelness of Stockbridge, the group was shaken to its core. It's true to say that biking often presents a contradiction for the rider - great thrills but to get them, you have to endure uncomfortable moments, particularly on the hottest day of the year when clad almost head to toe in leather. Well, it seems we have all been far too conventional. One of our new prospective members had the obvious answer - and a challenge for the next ride. Go Commando! How obvious! No more knicker seams welded by heat and clenched cheeks. And of course so much more aero-dynamic! But a step too far, even for the macho adventurous bike section. A compromise was reached - G-strings would be acceptable, providing the lady's boots were licked clean. Oh well, someone had to do it for the sake of the group's modesty.
One last conundrum remained, and no-one had the answer. Does the Car Section really have as much fun as this? Come on guys, there's an open invitation - we have pillion spaces available and even some loan biking gear .... but you'll have to provide your own G-String!
See you