Riding home
Islowed down as I approached the back of the queue of bikes waiting to board the Channel Tunnel. My heart was in my throat and my stomach was doing somersaults as I came to a stop and switched the engine off. At that point it hit me. I was setting off to Europe for three weeks on my Ducati, and on my own. I'd travelled before, but had only taken up motorcycling (apart from a scooter at 16) in 2016 – this was my first big solo trip. Thankfully, I was last in the queue of the bikes so I could observe what everyone was doing, but it was only once I was parked on the train and took my helmet off that I finally relaxed. The crossing was quick – less than half-an-hour – and I soon found myself on a French motorway heading for Bruges. I was
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