More than 6 years since she last rode pillion (on a CBR600) Mrs H made her comeback on the back of my bike this morning.
Daughters dispatched/delivered to Saturday activities/jobs and with the roads drying I warmed up the Monster. Her Indoors donned biking gear but needed help squeezing her bonce into an Arai. I suggested one of my novel 'quick fixes' involving a junior hacksaw, but the resulting look was enough to wither the plums on the tree - and it's not even in blossum yet!
Once outside on the drive, the questions flowed (must be a sign of keen interest):
Mrs H: "Where's the grab rail?"
RH: "Erm, there isn't one. You could use those handles just below the seat".
Mrs H: "What do you think I am? Some kind of gorilla?"
RH: "Actually I would have said your colouring is more Orangutan. Perhaps you could just swing your leg over & then hold on with your arms round me?"
Mrs H: "Any more cracks like that & you can forget any getting of legs over!".
After 4 or 5 attempts Mrs H finally managed to swing a leg over and attain a seated position on the back of the bike with both feet on the pillion pegs.
Mrs H: "Why am I sat higher up than you? I'm going to have the wind right in my face."
RH: "You're sat way lower than your daughter when she's on the back. I had no idea the rear shock could compress so much - ouch!"
Mrs H: "How are the ribs you bruised playing football? And what was that noise?"
RH: "I couldn't help it, you jabbed me in the ribs."
Mrs H: "And I thought it was bad enough having to contend with the wind in my face."
At this point I decided that discretion was the better part of valour. Any thoughts of concern regarding a 695 Monster being asked to haul a combined weight in the region of 140-150Kilos were kept to myself.
I carefully balanced revs & clutch to get the bike moving and braced myself for either a bottoming rear shock, an involuntary 'accident', a dig in the ribs or any combination of the 3. I could tell that Her Indoors was quite tense, she had admitted to being nervous as I massaged her head into her Arai with the help of a lump hammer, 2 tins of WD40 and a pound of lard.
"Don't go too fast!" Came the command from Tail-End Charlotte as we rode out of the estate roads.
I duly nodded a polite morning greeting to pedestrians as they overtook us.
Mrs H: "Now what are you doing?"
RH: "I just changed into 2nd."
Mrs H: "Forget the fancy tricks, just keep it nice & safe. You're not Casey Stoner." Impressed by my beloveds knowledge of Moto GP, I couldn't resist the following retort:
RH: "No, but I've seen his wife & I wouldn't mind being him - ouch!"
Making a mental note to check where I'd left the 500mg ibruprofen tablets I brought back from Canada, I decided to press on. Braking for the roundabout at the bottom of the hill, I started to regret the insane notion of pressing on. Her Indoors decided to brace herself from the decellerative forces. More pain for my rib cage.
Mrs H: "Steady, no need to brake sharply."
RH: "I didn't, I'm only using 2 fingers. You should be familiar with the concept - ouch!" I decided there & then to keep my leathers on for the rest of the weekend. They looked like being the only thing with a chance of keeping my lungs within my thoracic cavity, my rib cage certainly wasn't going to be up to it.
I rode steadily out into the countryside, keeping everything nice & gentle. Eventually Her Indoors started to relax, I noticed this by her grip. Prior to this I had no idea I could hold my breath for over 10 minutes.
We actually had a very pleasant ride in the countryside around the Sherwood Forest area. Returning through Linby I nodded to the rider of a red 748. He duly nodded back & I wondered if I had just seen a fellow Ducatista? I came to regret the nod as Her Indoors mistook my gesture.
Mrs H: "Stay awake you old fool, don't start nodding off while I'm on the back!"
RH: "Are you still there my sweetness, I had completely forgotten. It's as if there is a fairy riding on the back - ouch!"
The weather held fine and we bimbled around for about an hour. On returning home Mrs H struggled to dismount. Ever the gentleman I came to her aid. One swift standing start and mission accomplished.
Mrs H was not impressed. I must confess I thought the hedge might have been softer.
Sensing the mood, I informed Her Indoors that I was going to clean my bike. Took me about an hour to find some trace of road grime & managed to drag out cleaning & lubing for a further hour.
The post mortem took place over coffee & ibruprofen. I made the coffee (seemed a sensible precaution).
Mrs H announced she rather enjoyed the experience and she would like to join me for more bike rides in the future (hurrah! She's a Ducatista). I should also take that silly grin off my face & not get any ideas because she still can't stand with her legs straight & knees together (oh well, can't win 'em all).
The 695 coped far better than I had envisaged. By this time I had learnt a few lessons so I kept that thought to myself. Who knows? As both daughters go off to university during the next few years there might be an opportunity to obtain top level consent for another Ducati?
Softly softly, catchee monkey.
you ever
