Anyway, myself and the Battlestar Galacticrap cough and splutter our way down to the start point. Most folk are here already, as well as some other bunch of guys doing the same thing! I need to chill the fook out, but I hate riding in the rain, i hate riding in big groups. I decide to hang near the back (this turns out to be my default position for the event :biggrinvk4: ) when we get waved off.
This is it, 6 months or more of prepping and bodging the bike, keep it together now. The bike is running rough, it keeps bogging down then surging forwards unexpectedly. fook! I'm panic braking into corners because the bike keeps running on, my confidence is shot and I'm annoyed at myself for not fitting the carb refurb kit I got a few weeks previously. Ah well, MTFU time, carry on regardless. Next stop Inverness for me, I know the bike can do it I decide to try and relax, let the bike take the strain and enjoy the scenery, after all, I'm in the North East of Scotland, its stunning up here. Sometimes I forget all of this is only a few hours from my door step
Eventually I catch up to the scooter and Jez on the 125 cruise-control and pass them. The roads open up and the fluffinees is less of an issue with fewer tight turns, so I wind it on a bit and roll on through the Dornoch Firth and on down into Inverness.
I pull into the Tesco on the far side of town, only to see Rich on the NTV. We stop for a blether, a quick drink and snack and we're on our way again.
As we get further south, the weather improves and we can make some progress. Well we do until my jerry can escacpes from its bungee along the A9 and bursts, throwing 95 octane everywhere. I do the environmental thing and fling it into the bushes :ph34r: .
It is a little while from here that we see Smobytoe jumping around like a loony, it fair perks me up and I'm laughing into my lid while bopping along to ZZ Top on the Bluetooth ( I like them ok, shut up you at the back).
We're doing ok and since I'm the local I'm on navigational duties until we hit Engerland. Naturally I turn too early for the A823 (about 50m too early and we have to turn around again). Aah the A823, or the Rumbling Bridge road as us locals call it. It used to be a stonking road, but the surface has crumbled in parts, luckily there are still some good bits here and there. A quick photo opportunity at Knockhill and the into Dunfermline and Rosyth, where due to being on the phone to my Mrs, I missed another turn and we had to double back on ourselves again. So much for local knowledge.
We scoot over the bridge where my Mrs, her folks and my son are waiting. Jez is just readying to leave as we arrive. Looking in a hurry as he has been accosted by my father-in-law. We have a wee chat, quick nibble, half a cup of coffee, then off to brim up.
Quick blast around the bypass, onto the A68 and its roadworks. Its at one of these temporary lights that Rich tells me my bike has been smoking. We pull over at the next layby, and there is nothing showing in the oil sight glass. One of the sag wagons turns up(someone remind me who was in each, My mind is blurred) I endure comments about Scots being exposed to the sun etc, while pouring 3/4 litre of Halfords finest into the big Yamaha.
Topped up, we up our pace a little over the swooping curves of what used to be s brilliant biking/driving road before it was cluster-bombed with cameras.
We make the border, get some pics, the sag wagon appears again, as does Johnny McAvoy (PB journalsit and organiser). We must be running pretty far behind if the big chap is here I think.
We head off again, Rich in the lead this time...
