As ever the Pioneer Run was the first date in our calendar for this year. The fact that it clashed with Mother's Day may have contributed in part to the modest turnout, as might the high winds which did not let up much all day and the possiblity of showers.
So it was a magnificent seven of us, on five bikes, who set off from the Pied Bull some time after ten, taking the traditional route through Sevenoaks and Tunbridge Wells before arriving in Brighton somewhat earlier than normal. The absence of any mechanical problems or other hold-ups certainly helped, although the cross-winds made some demands on our concentration at times and there were two or three short, light showers of rain.
We found some parking space in the traditional spot, which was comparatively empty apart from a very new Daytona 955i Special and a Bandit. Having dismounted and checked our watches, a group decision was made that we should not pass up the opportunity to see the veteran bikes on Madiera Drive before their owners started to trailer them away again and left us with precious little to see as in previous years.
Not only were most of the entrants still parked on the Drive, but there were even a few still arriving from the run, being welcomed in a professional way by a chap on the tannoy who obviously had a list of the entrants' numbers and names so that he could reel them off as they came in. Judging by the smoke being coughed out by some machines, environmental concerns were far from the minds of the designers back in the day.
We walked along admiring the variety and inventiveness of the engineering on display, marvelling as ever that the owners could keep them running and in many cases looking almost new. I don't know whether the turnout of competitors was as numerous as in previous years but I couldn't help feeling that the number of non-participants was down on last year, possibly for the reasons that made the Bexley turnout so select. Still it made it easier to get around and to find somewhere to sit when we eventually retired to the pub for some refreshment.
The traditional stopping-off point is the Horatio on the pier and we were settled comfortably in there for some time before it became apparent that they had introduced a lunchtime karaoke session. A couple of grim renditions of classic toons and we were gathering up our things and heading for the Victoria bar back down the pier where Ian met up with Steve, an old Bexley member. Considerable catching-up and reminiscing was done until the time came for thoughts of food to overtake us.
Braving the sea front we followed Steve's recommendation and were soon ordering chips with everything. In past years we have sat on the beach scoffing away but the chill wind put any such thoughts out of our minds on this occasion. The waves pounding the shoreline didn't help much either.
Once the grub had been polished off it was getting on for four o'clock so we made our way back to the bikes to head for home. A quick stop for petrol and before long we were scooting up the M23 in the direction of London. All was going smoothly until we joined the M25, when after a few miles my Speed Triple started displaying all the symptoms of being low on fuel. Not trusting the warning light, which had not come on, I deftly switched to the reserve tank but soon realised that something was up as the engine slowly spluttered to a halt. By that point I had manoevered onto the hard shoulder, not having much choice.
This was not the first time that something similar had happened (also on the M25!) and on the previous occasion, by the time I'd looked in the fuel tank, fiddled with the tap and hit the starter a couple of times, it went with no more trouble. Hence I repeated the procedure and was reassured when it burst back into life. However by the time I was approaching Sidcup on the A20 the bike staged a full reconstruction of the previous drama, with original cast.
I stuck to the script and the same story was repeated, such that when the bike started again I was able cautiously to potter home, stopping round the corner to fill up as I needed the bike for work next day.
The postscript to this little inconvenience is that next day there was no more sign of trouble and I got to work and back without incident, although we're only talking seven miles each way. A little pre-emptive investigation may be necessary before the next long run I think though.
Thanks to Ian for leading the run and to those who turned up.