Despite some peoples best efforts, Northern Ireland is still part of the United Kingdom, and as such shares its less exotic traffic laws. We don't have the 125 limit or the two part test or the incredibly dopey visor law. But what we have is their imposition by default, most learners failing to realise they can zap about on LCs tend to stick to dull and boring 125s. Because only the Isle of Man, Gibraltar and Northern Ireland have a market for dark visors, we cant get them. I know, I've rung Eurohelmets. Anyone got a couple of black Nolan 42 visors?
The main problem in this land of saints and sinners is insurance. Think of your worst quote, add a telephone number and that’s what annually drops through our letterboxes. Insurance companies wishing to believe that everything that happens here is in line with Maggie's view of normal, deny that their rates have anything to do with the Troubles, deny that there is any such thing as a Northern Ireland loading and maintain that the only reason we're fleeced is that the jury and not a judge makes personal injury awards.
Maybe they had a point, as a good lawyer, a weeping parent or partner and the cynical ability to wave the withered stump at a jury instead of a judge, was always reckoned to be worth an extra couple of grand. But since August '87 we've had judges working on the ready reckoners and have insurance rates come down?
Not a chance, now the insurance companies are talking about a need to ratify and rationalise - what that means, of course, is that we will continue to get fleeced.
The only decent way out is to forget any snivelling about joining the imperialist and incredibly boring BMF, as they have an insurance deal through Direct Insurance Ltd. Despite the unfortunate choice of name, the organisation is not in the least bit concerned with local or sectarian politics, although the number of BMF riders involved point to a possible end of meeting sing-song that includes the Horst Wessel. You can join by post and don't have to attend the meetings which are unbearably dull...
Insurance is usually stated as the prime reason why motorcycle sales are falling here; I don't know anyone under sixty whose parents don't own half a county who has fully comp insurance. Those who'd appreciate a Club for the more upmarket, would get a most select bunch if they limited it to those with fully comp, but it'd be a very, very small club.
I haven't mentioned the limited land war, So far, for the good reason that - none of the terrorist or political organisations have a bike club. Biking is one of the few indulgences without a religious input. Most of the people save their bias for their own particular marque and limit sectarianism to mods and scooterists, this, of course, being only right and proper. .
It used to be that the leather jacket, jeans and boots uniform had you instantly marked as a religion free zone; identification as a motorcyclist was enough to ensure you got left alone. With a number of sectarian shootings carried out on motorcyclists people tend to pay a little more attention, but not enough to cause any real grief. Our police force, regularly described as one of the finest in the world, has a traffic branch that causes big differences on what finest actually means.
It's not hard to get your chain pulled for speeding over here, as they run about in unmarked cars - fast unmarked Cars - and if you try to out run them a radio call can have the British Army and UDR taking an active interest in your progress. It doesn't go down too well with the judge when he's informed that traffic branch had to call on the aid of the security forces to apprehend a mere speeding motorcyclist.
Regular practitioners of the home-in-a-hurry routine have been known to take a diversion into West Belfast where hot pursuit usually comes to an abrupt halt. The authorities will deny this vehemently, but serious speedsters still do it and get away with it. Only rarely do the traffic branch turn up at your front door to further discuss the issue, unless you have seriously upset them they wont go looking for the still smoking bike, melting the plastic sheet that's hastily been slung over it.
As well as the police, we have the army and the UDR. An army road check will usually have you pulled in to discuss certain, er, features of the bike. In any dealings with the security forces it pays to be civil and rule one is you're more likely to be busted for giving abuse than breaking the law.
So while visiting our green and sometime unpleasant land, keep it cool, forget long tirades about civil liberties; it's like trying to teach a pig to sing troublesome and ultimately pointless. They are only doing their job and if they are told to stop traffic that’s what they do. Some trendy lefties on a motorcycle causing an argument relieves the boredom and makes their day.
Initially shocking the first time visitor, with the amount of heavily armed soldiers and police, the paranoia recedes after a while and it all becomes part of the scenery. If you want to take photographs, let the police and army know what you're at (Army HQ Lisburn is a fine place to start, their number's in the phone book); polite conversation will go a long way in preventing a squaddie playing football with your Nikon while it’s still around your neck. Don't try to hide the fact that you're taking photos, be blatant and tell them you're a tourist and just want to see what's going on.
Drinking here in this civilised country is easy as the bars have been open all day for years. Drinking is probably our finest spectator and participant sport. But don't drink and drive, the police rightly carry out random busts for those suspected of being drunk in charge; everyone takes a dim view. While bar hopping, walk, stumble and crawl appear to be the accepted modes of transport - there are plenty of taxis late at night. Belfast is probably safer at night than Birmingham, but there’s no point in taking chances.
Pub crawls are frowned upon, if you've found a seat in a bar where the crack is good, you stay there until you get slung out with everyone else. Route marching from pub to pub and drinking halves is looked upon as being pretty dumb. That, and the fact that after a few minutes in any bar you've made a friend for life, makes this place bearable. Rule two, we buy rounds, so if someone buys you a pint and you're skint tell them. If you're not, buy them one back - this will continue until chucking out time and you'll wake up in the morning with a head like the inside of Haslam's boot.
The roads are a bikers dream, apart from Belfast where you tend to bounce from pot-hole to pot-hole. From Belfast the beach is only twenty minutes and the Giant's Causeway a hour and a half - these times are estimates based on the odd supposition that you're going to stick to the speed limit.
For those with a nervous disposition who think this place really is dangerous, our Tourist Board will state that there are more people killed o the toad than in the Troubles. That isn't because the Troubles are so minimal, it’s because our roads really are dangerous. The motorcycling comics seem to have a downer on Volvo drivers. Here, everyone drives like your worst nightmare. No lane sense, a total inability to acknowledge the existence of motorcycles until one Exocets the bonnet. It’s incredible, for those who are a little paranoid, this is not the place to visit because they really are out to get you. We have a lot of old folk, the type who have never had an accident but have seen thousands.
These are the people who ignore traffic lights, pelican crossings, one way streets and everyone else's right of way. Forget about sticking a boot into the drivers door, these psychos will run you down if you mark their pride and joy. Over here, it really is the difference between the quick and the dead, or at least badly injured. Our Department of Environment is responsible for making a particularly difficult stretch of road a terrifying experience. We have road junctions devised by people who seem to have no other brief than to entertain the pedestrian stranded in the middle of the road and terrify other road users.
Obviously annoyed that a terrorist organisation can cause traffic chaos, these boys devise experimental road layouts that make spaghetti junction pale into insignificance. An extra pair of eyes and a tight sphincter are a must for Ulster touring.
For the tourist on a first time trip, don't prattle on about the scenery, mention it once then start buying drinks - you'll make a lot more friends. We know it's very green, we also know why it’s green - because it rains a lot, almost constantly. The foreign wretch that labours the point in a bikers bar while people are miserably pouring the monsoon out of their wet gear, stands a good chance of following his arse when it gets slung out to the street.
Bike shops we have in abundance, but we also share the spares problem. One notable local store in Belfast has the classic spares desk moron, who listens to your tale, nods sympathetically, writes it all down, then tells you whatever you want, they haven't got it... but will order; plan on staying for a month if you have a breakdown.
Others are quicker and the old pals network that you'll speedily become a member of will probably be able to provide your needs. Should you get into difficulties without the benefit of your first hangover, Rod Taylor's in Donegal Pass, Belfast is the best first stop. Details of opening times and bars to visit, plus used spares can be obtained here. Locally, the media is quite biking orientated with Downtown Radio carrying a biking spot on Wednesday night.
That's all you need to know for this issue. Travel light, leave your preconceptions at home, don't ask anyone's religion, pack your wet gear and be careful out here.
Mac Yavelleh