Birdshit & French at That!

Thursday the thirteenth October, seven in the evening sat in the back of an old transit van accompanied by Pete, Anita and the familiar smell of two old bikes and one in tow. We were on our way to Tony & Lindas for the beginning of what we hoped to be a pleasant weekend away. 

Now feeling quite faint on the fuel fumes and wishing that Pete had bought German so our travelling time could have been halved, I found myself with the re-occurring thought, as Pete was taking his second attempt at getting up the road to Tony and Lindas, ‘This road is worse than the ones I saw in East Germany when the wall came down. You can barely walk up it let alone drive/ride up it, and the phrase ‘what goes up must come down’ and it does… into the entrance of the garage. By the time we had unloaded and had prepared for the morning I was about buggered! Before the evening ended we were entertained by the three hundred and forty pictures of the Jeffreys’ trip to Tasmania . How would our trip to Rouen compare? (Absolutely nothing like it whatsoever, the pictures were outstanding.)  

Up at Half five and greeted with a cup of tea, Brian and a bloody steep drive to ride up,  we were off waking up all the neighbours as five V Twins pass by. The crossing from NewHaven to Dieppe is four hours so plenty of time to moan how cold the breakfast was, how crap the weather looks and put the world to rights.  

It is always great to cross the channel and ride off the ferry on your bike just as this day was. The ride to Rouen was around forty odd miles and took around an hour. Tony and Linda have visited the City a couple of times previous so finding the Hotel was not a problem. We checked in and the manager had a secure area for our bikes. We assessed the situation. The weekend was not about riding hundreds of miles it was about culture and discussions, so it decided that we should go and drink beer, after all it was around half two in the afternoon.  

The afternoon socializing somehow bought about a competition for the weekend of who could visit the urinals the most. Being the type to rise to any challenge I saw that this was just that, as two of my opponents were old enough to be my dad and should have much weaker bladders than myself ! It was also around this point that I was the first to get shat on, then Brian. (Between you and me, I don’t think Brian has been shat on by a bird for years.) The evening went on followed with a meal, some more beer and myself gushing ahead in the competition.  

Early next morning after a continental breakfast of aspirin and orange juice followed with half an hour back in my bed we assembled for a stroll around the market and after apparent finds of engines, horn covers and speedos, we rode out of town to get some fresh air. The ride that day was typical of the weekend, miles of bimbling around, taking in the sights drinking and eating well and seeing who could wee the most. It was also Petes’ turn to get shat on, he took his in the face. We rode out of the city along the Seine , stopped off more than a few times for coffee or for a cup of tea and carrot cake, which by the time I had returned from putting another notch on my lead had turned into a large Warsteiner. We rode around eighty miles. Linda even managed to do some shopping. I’m sure it was the only shop in La Bouille, an art shop. You cannot help those impulse buys of framed paintings when you’re on a motorbike!!!!! That evening like the one before was warm enough to sit outside enjoying the surroundings, a few beers and a fantastic meal.

Sunday we set off in the direction of Fecamp on the coast, this was around an hour and a half’s ride. This to is a nice place where we stopped for a while, had a drink and scored a few more points, it is also where it started to rain and did so for the rest of our ride along the coast to Dieppe . Stopping off at Dieppe was obviously our last deposit of puddles of straight fifty on French soil. We had a few hours to spend here so after a walk around the town, the harbour and beach we went for a slap up meal and a cup of tea. This time on my return from scoring another point, my cup of tea had turned into a litre of beer, so with the finish line in sight we were really going for a huge lead ! By now I was not thinking about what I was going to eat on the ferry and I noticed that spending the weekend together had made us familiar enough for open flatulence, had the competition category changed?

 

The crossing back was a late one, the boat was an Italian ship and the Italian crew had a rather odd way of tying motorcycles to the ships hull with orange rope. This is an instance sooner forgotten. Apart from the boat sounding like it was going to sink and the crew walking around like they had just been given the death sentence, it was good for us to rest our digestion systems and ponder on a great weekend.  

Apart from a brief sticky break, a battery change, a broken bone and an unexpected but impressive doughnut!, the event went without a hitch. I won hands down !! Although I think the best behaved bike or biggest wheelie will do for next time.

I also feel that everyone there could of done with a shave, haircut and a good stint in the army, but they know that by now?  

I would like to thank Tony and Linda for raising the idea and organizing it. It is always the simple off the cuff weekends that stick in your mind, and like I said for some reason it is always great to ride off the ferry the other side for a weekend away.     

Rouen , despite being heavily bombed in WW2 has an impressive amount of medieval architecture. The cathedral, along with many other buildings were rebuilt, although some of what they have put up deserves a kneecapping. Rouen is the capital of Normandy and it is where Joan of Arc was burnt at the stake. I can assure you that there are plenty of places to drink and eat. Not too sure on the museums though !

Stuart Alexander