Roughing it at Roughleys
There are times when I realise that as resident of a gated community consisting of 2 properties in a suburb of a suburb of what Wikipedia calls "a large town in Greater Manchester" I lead a very sheltered life. Today our planned ride-out with the excellent people of our local RoSPA group (https://www.rospa.com/) was cancelled due to the return of our usual British weather, so we decided that if we weren't going to ride on a bike, we would at least look at some bikes. As it happens, it was the day of the annual aptley named Roughleys Bike Show. In previous years, we had read about this event in the local press, last night a fellow dancer and biker announced his intention to attend, so we thought we should check it out. We paid our modest entrance fee of £3.00 per head, felt virtuous to support a charity event, and joined a couple of hundred people milling around in the rain. There were about a dozen bikes on show, most of them sights we are not likely to forget in a hurry.
This candidate shows what can be accomplished with liberal application of gaffer tape, and there was unfortunately no special Crazy Horse category for this entry:
For those who prefer a ménage à trois, or bemoan the usual lack of luggage space on a motorbike, there is a solution:
Even more colourful than the bikes, however, were most visitors. We saw Hell's Angels, God's Squadders, Devils Diciples (notable in their lack of apostrophe), an incredible array of tattoos, piercings and hairstyles. We were glad to support the worthy charity Help for Heroes, although Husband suggested that looking around "Help for Haircuts" might also be a good idea, which - in view of the unsuccessful battle I have been waging, trying to dissuade son no. 2 from his "Meet me at MacDonald's" - is a cause dear to my heart.
Back in our quiet suburban bubble, I am still trying to digest the reality of seeing people I might read about in a novel, or see as characters in a TV drama. There is a whole world of people who live very different lives, and for whom motorbiking means something completely different than wearing brand name gear with the latest technology armour, and riding a recent model bike with a heated seat on a scenic road to an overnight stop at a 4 star hotel.
This candidate shows what can be accomplished with liberal application of gaffer tape, and there was unfortunately no special Crazy Horse category for this entry:
For those who prefer a ménage à trois, or bemoan the usual lack of luggage space on a motorbike, there is a solution:
Even more colourful than the bikes, however, were most visitors. We saw Hell's Angels, God's Squadders, Devils Diciples (notable in their lack of apostrophe), an incredible array of tattoos, piercings and hairstyles. We were glad to support the worthy charity Help for Heroes, although Husband suggested that looking around "Help for Haircuts" might also be a good idea, which - in view of the unsuccessful battle I have been waging, trying to dissuade son no. 2 from his "Meet me at MacDonald's" - is a cause dear to my heart.
Back in our quiet suburban bubble, I am still trying to digest the reality of seeing people I might read about in a novel, or see as characters in a TV drama. There is a whole world of people who live very different lives, and for whom motorbiking means something completely different than wearing brand name gear with the latest technology armour, and riding a recent model bike with a heated seat on a scenic road to an overnight stop at a 4 star hotel.
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