I got my motorcycle endorsement in 1992 but my first time on a multi-day road trip (what else were you thinking?) wasn't until summer (if you could call it that) 1994 through Southern England, logging in roughly 2,500km.
We left Germany and took the fast lane (Autobahn) to Calais. It was the year of the Euro-Tunnel opening but I didn't feel comfortable traveling almost 40km under water, enclosed by walls, with no escape route. Besides, I love ferry rides. It turned out to be a very stormy one though, but professionally tied up by the ferry personnel no bikes were harmed during transport.
Riding on the left (wrong!) side of the road was so much easier than driving a car on the left. We rode into London, to do the typical tourist stuff (The Tower, Buckingham Palace, Windsor Castle etc.), and little did we know about British traffic rules, roundabouts a.k.a. traffic circles, and lane splitting.
In the midst of a traffic jam, a motorcycle officer stopped right beside us, and we were thinking: oh oh! As a matter of fact he explained to us that bikes don't have to wait in traffic (not sure if that rule is still valid). He asked us where we wanted to go, and showed us the way through the pile of cages in downtown London. It was so cool!
It was supposed to be a low budget vacation but the plans to camp were going literally down the drain. It was raining day in day out except for maybe five minutes which we used to dry up and shoot a picture as proof.
Basically it was like: Look an old castle in the rain, oh there another church in the rain. From Brighton to Stonehenge to Lands End and back. Dripping, dropping, we were seeped through, drenched, plain wet most of the time. The wet stuff got everywhere, down the neck, into the boots. I had to wear plastic bags as an additional boot liner.
The motorcycles however did great. My Yamaha SR500 got a lot of attention because of its retro look resembling some 60's Triumph. I liked when people watched me kick-starting the bike on first kick (Oh, how much sweat and bruises it had cost me to look like a pro). I still miss that reliable hotpot.
The Ex rode a Suzuki Intruder, and he was obsessed with the repeat desire to wash the bike, an OCD that seem to come with riding a cruiser. Said bike didn't mind the weather or the regular wash and was doing its job.
Wild animal encounter in Cornwall
Vintage GPS in the tankbag a.k.a. map
Staying in Bed & Breakfasts or little Motels although bad for the budget didn't turn out too bad actually, as people were very helpful, and some of their owners were motorcycle enthusiasts themselves. And folks that speak motorcycle always get along well.
One guy really had us in awe. We arrived at a mansion turned B&B looking like drowned cats leaving a trail of dirt and water pooling on the ground. There was a storm coming in, we were almost blown off our bikes when riding above the white cliffs of Dover and we needed shelter, stat. We didn't care how much the room would cost. Not only did we get the room at a very decent price, he also offered that we could park the motorcycles overnight in the lobby as his garage was already full with vintage vehicles. Needless to say... he was a rider.
The pictures are long lost but the memories last a lifetime.
What actually triggered sharing my first time publicly was this find in Portland, OR:
A Quadrophenia style Lambretta in the Downtown Dr Martens boots store
During this first epic motorcycle trip my used German army boots procured in a shady surplus store were ruined due to constant exposure to British weather. Hence, I took the opportunity and purchased a wonderful pair of Dr Martens boots in a tiny store in St. Ives, Northern Cornwall. I had them a for long time and they were serving me well.
