It was Sunday 20th July 2003 6.30 am with a lovely sunny atmosphere dampened and fresh from the previous days rain. I had prepared my Ariel during the previous week so it was just a matter of tickling the carb to richen the mixture, throw a leg over the saddle, kick the bike into life and head for the Kent Gliding Club near Ashford.

As I was going down the Gravesend Road into Strood Town Centre the old engine was running really well in the cool damp air. It sounded like music to my ears so I decided to join in. So there we were in harmony together, "Oh what a beautiful morning", clatter clatter, "Oh what a beautiful day", clatter clatter, but by not having any mirrors on the bike I failed to see the 'early morning shift' Police Patrol car glide in alongside me. The young schoolboy in uniform wound down his window and said, " Excuse me sir, stop singing and concentrate on the road! Or I'll 'ave you for disturbing the peace"! Funny though, cos' he was the one doing all the shouting? "But Officer I'm on my way to the Timber Woods Trial and he was a Policeman you know"! His expression changed immediately and he said. "OK sir, follow me". He switched on the blue flashing lights and the 'Nee Nahs' and went speeding ahead to clear the way for me. He escorted me up City Way and out of Rochester to the top of Blue Bell Hill, then with a cheery wave he peeler'ed off into a slip road.

I continued on down Blue Bell Hill almost flat out at about 28 mph, my vocal chords now silent. Several cars came rushing by me doing at least 80 mph. God! I thought, if they were to run into the back of the 'Old Ariel' they would be killed instantly! The mass and weight of those early malleable iron lugged frames is incalculable and by golly don't I know it! Anyhow without any more incidents worthy of mention I arrived at the Gliding Club at 7.30 am. But! I was the only one there. Was it the wrong day? No, because I could hear snoring coming from the caravans parked there. So there was life on earth after all.

Scrutineering was done, road book attached and off I went. Well it wasn't my fault I got lost in the first ten minutes. We couldn't find the first section anywhere, although to their credit some riders did. Going down the first track outside the Gliding Club I met two lady horse riders coming the other way. Stop immediately kill engine. "Good morning" I said "What a lovely morning and what beautiful horses you have". We exchanged some more pleasantries and they said they were sorry that I couldn't afford a new bike like the others. I carried on still unable to find the first section, so did an about turn and came upon the horse riders again. " Hello again" I said. "Look I'm ever so sorry about this but I'm having a little trouble with my eyes, they are quite old you know". I looked up at the beautiful horses once more and said; " Lovely graceful animals aren't they"? Off I went up to the main road doing several miles just to confirm I was going in the 'wrong' direction before turning back towards my horse riding friends once more. "Sorry" I said, repeating myself for the third time. But I just didn't know what else to say! "Beautiful creatures aren't they". Well they were! But by now the lead horse was blushing with my excessive compliments and the trailing horse had his right hoof in his mouth and was trying to puke. But I will never forget those graceful fetlocks, the superb firm silky flanks and the way those saddles moved from side to side! Oh! If only I was 40 years younger, I could take up horse riding, or something?

At box number 105 in the road book I had to take on petrol. I pulled in behind many more riders who were already taking a break. Petrol tank brimming and I went in to pay my money with a 'Switch Card'. It was when I tried to sign my name that the trouble began. On taking off my trials glove a gnarled looking claw appeared! The cashier screamed and jumped back in fear! I thought quickly and reacted instantly by pulling my Belstaff sleeve up to my elbow (which was none too pretty) just to show the startled lady that the hand was still attached to my own arm. This calmed her a bit whilst I tried to grip the biro. But! I couldn't grip it properly and made futile attempts to match the signature on my 'Switch Card'. I then found myself apologising to the petrol lady for my disgusting scribble who had by now realised I was suffering from a bad dose of 'Trials Riders Arm'. She then did and said something funny that I am still puzzling over. Taking a long close scrutiny at the signature on my card and then my grubby little face, she said. "Well you look like your signature anyway so I guess it's OK". Many thanks kind lady, I think? Before firing up to get on with the trial I decided to have a bite of what the wife had packed for me? I picked out a small pack of biscuits wrapped in a bright red packaging. Yes, you've probably seen them in the shops labelled 'Blue Parrot'! Now I'm as confused as you readers are but its true, Blue Parrot biscuits come in red wrappers. The marketing mind just boggles these days doesn't it? Next job, use the claw, flex biceps and break biscuits in half, then devour in macho style. Start bike and take off under full acceleration, extending front forks by half an inch as the power band kicks in. I look down at my cycle computer speedometer and see 57mph! By jove! That was some petrol! Then just as quickly 43mph appeared then 28 and back to 57mph in the blink of an eye. My diagnostic brain went into overdrive as I realised that I had either a serious misfire, or my cycle computer had picked up some weird virus? After doing a melt down check on it (it's a trade term) I thought the battery might be going flat. Never mind, I had been lost many times during the day so this would be my excuse from now on. Old people like me are used to navigating by rule of thumb, only problem is I only have two bruised ones left.

Whilst queuing for one of the sections a younger rider asked if I had thought about getting a modern bike with springs on or "don't you like them", he said. "Oh yes I think they are really really lovely, but I haven't worn this one out yet"! I thriftily replied. When I eventually came to Margie Clarke's section I was telling her about the trouble I had trying to sign the petrol receipt. She told me that's what 'Motocrossers' call arm pump. "No Marge", I said, "I call it Arthritis". Anyway, last section done and back for the special test. Great test 'Sidcup Club' I enjoyed it. A quick fill up with petrol for the ride home, empty bladder on the way out in case of abnormal accidents (which I'm not insured for) and ride like hell for home. You know what? I didn't take one wrong turning on the way home. This just goes to show that practice makes perfect!

Many thanks Sidcup Club for running 'THE TIMBER WOODS LONG DISTANCE TRIAL'.

Dave Blanchard