	updated 30th Dec 2003
That thing's a deathtrap, you senseless waste of the earth's precious fossil fuel resources: index broke rants video CV

I went for a ride.

With Rachel piloting the hopped-up crazy Golf mk1 chase car and Aisling desperately trying to make the camera focus on the tiny dot in the distance, I managed to look like this:

Disappearing Whee, high speeds into evil killer twisties from the Planet Aaaaargh!
Turning right This isn't very interesting, but it's a good photo.
Lining up for an overtake tootle tootle tootle BORED BORED BORED tootle tootle tootle BORED.
Hanging back BORED bored BORED oh hang on, I can get past here.
Stopped We stopped to take some photos.
Keep left It's vitally important to obey traffic signs at all times.

There's also a bit on the video page.

I went for a longer ride.

My business crashed horribly so I got a job working for Texas Instruments- being as fond of food and shelter as I am. I packed up as much gear as I could (120 kg of it) on the bike and rode down to Villeneuve-Loubet, near Nice.

1200 miles in one day is difficult. The things I enountered:

The Channel Tunnel. Great fun that. Getting lost on the way out and nearly ending up in Geneva.
the 'orages dangereux' around Paris. Hailstones the size of your fist are bad enough at the best of times, but when you're hammering down the autoroute at 130mph on a bike with no fairing they're downright dangerous. I lost my bottle when the car in front lost its windscreen and spun off the road. Then the rain started.
After a five hour wait in Paris for the rain to stop, I gave up and got back on the road. The wrong road. 120km detour in the wrong direction. Happy? I wasn't.
Screaming down the Big Flat Bit in the middle of France is great fun. Top speed of 140mph achieved here. Bike runs onto reserve fuel just after passing the last fuel stop for 170 km. I learn new ways of riding- burn-coast saves enough fuel. I roll up the slip road to the petrol station just as the engine finally cuts out.

It's at this point that I realize there is a deity somewhere in the universe whose existence is devoted to protecting the truly stupid.
Just as I start to realize that it's really, seriously, totally getting really much hotter, the computerized signs inform me that the road ahead is closed. I pull off the autoroute and discover that Canon C140 ink isn't waterproof and neither is my map pocket. This was not a good moment for me.
By now it's 40 degrees and the bike is starting to feel it. That's okay though, because I start to climb into the Alpes-Maritimes. Somewhere around Marseilles I see a sign that says it's 500 km to Nice and I question my commitment.
Up into the Alps. For every 1000 feet I rise, the bike loses 8% of its power, due to the decreasing air density. However, for every 1000 feet I rise, the air gets 2.5 degrees cooler, improving the performance by a similar amount. You get dizzy too, and you have to work hard as the bike swings like a pendulum on the twisty Alpine roads. It's dark now, and up here your fingers get numb.
In the distance I can see flames and smoke; the Alpes-Maritimes forests are on fire. Descending from the crisp, sharp mountaintops, the hot, saline, muggy air of the coast hits me like a wall. It's like an entity in its own right. By now I'm so tired that I have to sing into my helmet to keep myself awake.
I get into Villeneuve-Loubet three hours later. It takes me an hour to find my hotel. It's closed. This is not surprising- it is 4am. Since I have been awake for 22 hours, I go to sleep in the hotel car park.
The hotel opens at eight and it's already 35 degrees in the shade. I check in and flake out. I sleep for 24 hours straight.