There are two kinds of days off. The sensible kind, where you do chores, cut the grass, maybe buy a new sponge, and earn brownie points with your other half. And then there’s the kind where you set an alarm for 5.30am so you can ride 260 miles in the rain for the sheer fun of it. Guess which one I chose this week? I rolled the Suzuki V-Strom 650XT out of the garage, Kies heated vest plugged in on standby like an old friend whispering, “You’ll need me, mate.” And, right enough, just outside Carlisle the heavens opened in what can only be described as biblical fashion. The sort of rain that makes you wonder if Noah is about to sail past. I had to pull over and sit it out for 10 minutes, staring at the sky like a disgruntled farmer, waiting for a gap in the deluge. The Carlisle rain Mercifully, as soon as I crossed into Dumfries and Galloway the sun decided to make a grand reappearance, as if nothing had happened. Suddenly, everything sparkled. The roads dried, the hills lit up, a...
Real-world adventure. Purposeful miles