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THOSE OF US WITH A passion for all things two-wheeled often revel in our reputation for rebelliousness and a refusal to follow the herd. And rebelliousness doesn’t necessarily mean strutting around in black leather and denim or in getting your knee down. Sometimes it manifests itself as standing on an agricultural showground in January, rummaging in a plastic crate of oily rocker boxes.
Such matters occurred to me during my journey to Newark for the Carole Nash Winter Classic. The trip was punctuated by a radio news commentary that indicated that the country was still in the Christmas period doldrums and nothing of any note was likely to happen until the following Monday. As I came towards the end of what was a tiresome tour of the English Midlands’ less attractive ring roads, a journey which in January is best
