I went to the Thames Vale Advanced Morotcyclist ball last night, and even though I was very smartly kitted out I still managed to be under-dressed – there was far too high a proportion of tuxedos and black tie for me to be considered formally attired, but I was good enough to pass muster, and I turned the charming self-confidence dial up to eleven to make up for the lack.

The venue was moderately posh – local, fairly elite golf club hall, and the ladies had bedecked themselves with ballgowns; fitted red or black satin slips, and/or tons of sequins, seemed to be the order of the night, to some fairly spectacular effect, although one pale-skinned blonde woman – a biker – managed to find a wheat/gold full length gown that matched her hair rather spectacularly.

ISTR she has a CBR?

Anyway – by dint of a combination of luck and design, I landed on a dinner table with an interesting bunch of people whom – it turned out – were from my village / my area, and who were the backbone of the local team of bikers. I was promptly invited out on a run, scheduled for this morning.

So I left the ball at about 0130, went home, crashed out, and was up at 0705 to dress and prep to go on my first Breakfast Run.

Ten of us met in Hook, Hampshire at 0815 and rode south through the misty and slightly icy lanes, towards Chichester and Winchester.

I was introduced to the back-marker system which I actually think is quite good fun – we ride in a line, and the leader is always at the front; whenever there is a junction, the leader indicates a parking spot for the rider immediately behind him to stop, and that person indicates/waves the remaining riders past until the rider who is permanently assigned as back marker arrives, herding the stopped rider back into the group.

The back-marker’s responsibility is to ensure nobody gets lost, deal with breakdowns, etc, and is the most important job in the team. It’s a good system, ensures that everybody has at least some work to do, and makes the ride more involving – more of a team effort.

I was on the smallest-engined bike, I was on the tallest bike, and I was on the bike with the smallest fuel tank; given the conditions my 70+30 mile tank range proved not to be an issue since we were stopping to warm-up at frequent intervals. I think I put in a fair showing on the DR-Z, and although the ride did highlight to myself just how much more there is that I must learn, I also came out of the ride feeling more confident with respect to issues of speed and riding safely.

Occasionally, the term caning it would have been very appropriate, but always in a manner proportionate to the conditions and to the machine. 80 miles, frosty countryside, and a full english breakfast at a pleasant cafe. Not a bad start to a sunday.

Ah and one of the other riders turns out to be a bod – Andy – from PS UK. Small world, innit?