362 miles since Friday morning.
My ride home was perfect. Buzzing along country roads at 55mph, the engine ran like a
sowing sewing machine. I am once again reminded how grateful I am to everyone who helped me with my cam follower saga. The bike is still quiet.
I stopped on the way to fill the petrol tank. I parked the bike, bought a coffee and a Snickers bar and sat on a kerb to consume my snack. There were a group of modern 'Crotch Rocket' bike riders doing the same thing. They were all wearing leather race style suits. Eventually one of them came over and I braced myself for the usual admiration of the classic BSA. This time, it was different; he opened the conversation with; "An antique riding an antique, eh?" Ignoring the jibe, I told him how old the bike was and my own age. He told me he was born in 1939, he looked pretty fit for an 80 year-old!
The bloke started to tell me how crap old bikes were compared to modern machines. I was willing to admit that his brakes were certainly a lot better than mine. I asked him if he thought his bike would still be on the road when it is 64 years old!
He seemed amazed when I told him I was on a 150 mile trip back to home. "On that!", he said. End of conversation.
