1.30am about a week before Christmas. I stood at the window looking out at the night sky in all its glory with everything so clear and bright, so beautiful that I knew I should go and enjoy it. I had to go for a bike ride. Even though it was winter, the night was warm enough for just a motorcycle jacket and scarf.
Opening up the garage, I could see my Honda standing there in silence with the moonlight glistening on its black paint. It looked as if it was alert, ready and waiting for a run. Choke on, she started first go, revving a bit at first then settling down to an even tickover as the choke was released. The bike was ready and so was I.
I climbed on to it, snicked it into first gear and rode slowly out of the drive and our road so as not to disturb the neighbours. Turning out of my road into a more major one, I started opening up the throttle and slicking through the gears, the Honda protesting at first, then obliging as the engine warmed up.
We turned on to the A41 Watford bypass - as I hoped, completely empty at that time of day. Here I really started to open her up, revving sharply and shifting through the gears much to the Honda's delight as she gave an excited yowl. I still didn't have any idea where I was going, but it didn't matter, I had all the time in the world and it almost seemed as if I had all the roads to myself as well.
Approaching Watford, a police Rover was spotted lurking down a side turning. I wasn't worried as I wasn't really going too fast, so I ignored it. A glance in the mirror showed the Rover catching up with me fast but they never did stop me, they just followed me for a while then turned off at the Watford roundabout. I felt a sense of relief, although no apparent crime was committed you had to be very wary of the police, they can always find something to nick you for if they want to, especially if they are bored.
Anyway, out of defiance I wound the Honda up, listening to her delighted exhaust note then using the brakes to stop sharply to head off up some back roads. Off the main road, speed was reduced to 40mph, the engine burbling happily. In fact, almost as if it wasn't trying. The handling was superb at this kind of speed on these roads, taking turns and banking with hardly any rider effort, almost as if the Honda had become an extra limb needing just a thought to make it change direction.
After a mile or so the road started to widen out, a speed limit sign showing 40mph was ignored as the throttle was opened and the revs soared. Over the motorway flyover I stopped, every now and then a heavy lorry passed underneath making a rushing, roaring sound that faded into the distance. Then silence, all except a light whispering wind and a muted purr from the Honda.
It was weird looking at the motorway when it was empty, seeing this huge road all lit up with three lanes going in each direction deserted of traffic. Visions of rush hour accidents and overcrowding went through my mind, making me glad that I was riding my bike now and not at 5.30 in the evening.
Taking a last look at the empty motorway, I rode on for a while before heading towards a more urban area, with street lights illuminating the road instead of moonlight. Flicking to the left and then fast down the hill, the brakes were sharply applied as we neared the bottom, the front tyre squealing but not losing grip. Under a bridge, over a humpback bridge when the Honda went airborne for a second then touched the tarmac with the suspension compressing but without the slightest twitch, its direction maintained.
Up the hill into a small village high street toward the country with the lights of Hemel Hempstead shimmering in the distance. The road had widened and straightened out, enabling the Honda to be hustled along at a fair old pace. The road was in incredibly good condition, it felt like I was riding on air.
In fact, I began to think I was dreaming the whole thing until a car passed in the opposite direction and the wind rushing past my helmet reminded me that this was for real. A few miles on a sign for Hemel Hempstead appeared, the Honda was slowed then stopped at some traffic lights waiting to be filtered towards the town centre. Watching the red light, the Honda sat there waiting, ticking over as if nothing had happened, just burbling quietly to itself.
The lights changed, first gear engaged and the journey continued. Round some of Hemel's roundabouts designed specifically to lead all strangers away from the town centre. The roads became more suburban, buildings replaced by silver moonlight tinted trees, the streets lights disappearing.
After a while on a silent empty road I wound the Honda up again, revving hard through the gears she gave that yowl that meant it was on the ball, when suddenly it looked like the grim reaper had arrived. A dark shape flying towards us in silence like death come to take its victims away. Visions of past life began to pass by, visions of a horrific bike crash like a premonition before the event occurred.
It seemed like everything was over, I was quaking in my boots, the Honda bars began to waggle from side to side, everything started to get blurred, when the grim reaper passed in front of the headlight beam - an owl. Probably a Tawney out looking for prey, and just as frightened as bike and rider. Shock over, a slight shiver and backing off the throttle to make the waggling subside, and a restrained riding style to make sure the reaper didn't really make an appearance.
Up ahead some street lights, then half a dozen houses illuminated by the soft yellow phosphorous light. Passing the last house, the glow began to fade, becoming fainter until the road ahead went dark save for the headlamp beam and moonlight. Then the road became twisty again, demanding that the Honda be sharply banked over to the left and right. Over a bridge then on the brakes to take the turn off towards Potten End, a small village with a bike shop.
The approach to this village was up a very steep and twisty road. The first bit requiring the Honda to use all its gears to keep up momentum, then some nifty cornering to maintain velocity. Naked branches of large trees shrouded the road from the moonlight, much care needed to caress the Honda through the patches of mud. A lone light shimmered in the distance - the window of the bike shop.
Out of the town, the pleasant yowl just taking up its cry, when instinct told me to jam on the brakes. The back wheel slid for a moment, the front end dived down to the stops, but luckily it held its line and finally stopped before colliding with the object that rushed from the hedgerows into the middle of the road. There, in the headlamp beam was a little fox frozen still like a statue, looking straight towards the Honda. Then quivering its whiskers it bolted across the road and disappeared into a hedge.
Wildlife preservation over, the Honda was flung through the twisty downhill corners, right in its element. Quick, sharp steering and nimbleness making mincemeat of the twists and turns; an exhilarating experience out there alone in the night. The downhill straight taken at max revs, snicking into top gear halfway along, the dark scenery rushing past, the wind whistling over my helmet and....a T junction appearing rather rapidly.
Brakes on hard, forward weight transfer gluing the front tyre to the tarmac, we stopped just in time. In fact the downhill descent had been so exciting that I almost turned the Honda around and did it again, but visions of the grim reaper started to haunt my conscience, perhaps reminding me not to tempt fate. The journey continued south at a more leisurely pace allowing me to admire the silver scenery, a combination of feeling at peace with the world and an heightened alertness bowling me along.
The twisty roads started to straighten out again with the lights of Hemel appearing ahead. The Honda was slowed slightly to play with the roundabouts, then the route through Apsley taken. Urbanised roads lined with cars, the only other sign of life a cat that slinked under a car on hearing the Honda. Past Apsley to Kings Langley where the road straightened out into a series of smooth, sweeping bends that the Honda made into a delightful experience.
A right turn taken, a bit more power applied until we reached the top of the hill where a major road was followed towards Watford, avoiding the bypass and police. On to Hunton bridge and guess what was lurking down a little turn off? Yes, a police Rover but, thankfully, the drivers must've been asleep as they didn't note my presence. The throttle was opened down a long straightish road towards the centre of Watford.
A couple of traffic lights later and the dreaded Watford one-way system, another brilliant piece of road engineering designed to rid Watford of strangers. Still, it was easy enough to follow it straight through and head for Bushey. On towards Bushey Arches, a mini ring road designed specifically to cause accidents, though luckily it was empty then.
A long gradual hill, past a school and a row of dark shops through Bushey High Street. A very steep hill taken in fourth after a long run up in which the motor was well revved in the lower gears. Fifth engaged past the police station, a muted wail that would not set off their anger. A wonderful change from my days of push-biking when I would have been worn out after taking it.
The home ground of Bushey Heath appeared, with one last twist of the throttle then hard on the brakes before turning left, then sharp right for home on minimum revs. Off the bike, removing my helmet the freshness of the night cooling the sweat on my forehead and sending a little shiver through my body. The sky still crystal clear, the moon a bit further to the east and the silent night air only disturbed by the Honda ticking over.
It was then that a feeling of accomplishment was felt, followed by tiredness making me realise that it was finally time for some sleep. The Honda ridden into the garage, engine killed leaving it standing there, glistening and looking just like it did before the journey, only the hot engine giving the game away.
I smiled to myself as I shut the creaking garage door, then locked it. Removing my gloves I looked at my watch. 3.30am, a period of time that I noticed to be the quietest of all, the time that virtually no-one else was up; except myself. It feels like only you are experiencing that moment in time, like it was meant especially for you. It's a weird experience, but an enjoyable one. Anyway, I opened the French windows and entered my bedroom where I just dumped my gear on the floor and crawled into bed to dream of midnight bike rides, like the one I had just done on a six year old Honda H100 two stroke single!
Clark Denham