cheshirecat

Continued:

Every rider has their limits or wedge of safety and in London I had mine. Essentially if there was to be an accident I was going to be legal, well ish, so that meant not overtaking across double yellow lines and pedestrian crossings etc, the highway code through and through. The only thing I could be ‘had’ on was to be speed for this I kept to a formula of plus 10/20(ish) mph, so when overtaking long lines of traffic the speed differential was to be minimal. Charges would then be careless as opposed to dangerous driving and a ban. It also meant if a car pulled right any impact would be low and reaction time greater. Although I was brisk off the lights to get position, I’d always ease off within a few yards so also giving a bit of leeway in anticipating the ever changing line and escape routes ahead amongst all the other DR's going for them. Needless to say side inspections were always made before dropping the clutch. Often I'd be in convoy with several DR's and I would try and leave a gap (ie not dwardling in yours) for someone coming up behind and often assume or take a calculated risk on the front DR leaving a gap ahead in that blind spot just in front of a double decker bus and that out of sight traffic island. One's call sign always came up in these moments when there was nowhere to go except hyperspace forward. I was always concious being on a bright red, white and blue sports bike of being the conspicuous one in the eyes of the law so had to play a bit safe. This strategy only cost a couple of minutes job but it really mounts up, 30 jobs equals 30 to 60 minutes down time a day and that's a lot. I (and my license) did stay intact though.

I would also try to be as inconspicuous as possible which might seem to be tempting fate but I've noticed many vehicles actually make an effort to pull out in front of you no matter how fast or slow you are. It is always best to assume every vehicle will pull out and you are invisible. I'd prefer the emphasis on the rider being in control of the surrounding traffic because it is always much better coming onto a situation than a situation coming on to you. I was usually happy to let another DR take a lead acting as pathfinder for wayward vehicles and the Red Buses. Non DR's were either too slow, erratic or couldn't keep up the rhythm and pace. This technique also applied to keeping a car in front on the motorways. All this served well and although not the fastest rider my average must have been respectable and certainly got my share of work. In terms of covering distance it’s not the highest speed that counts but the average, keeping up a steady pace and not stopping. One stop wipes out any high speed burst. You have to keep moving all the time. If you look at DRs you will see they don’t really stop and start, rather they flow to an easy rhythm.

Anyway this was someway ahead. Although improving I was only clearing some 200 odd pounds a week. Further my wife became pregnant and so she could only work so long before our income dropped.

One job provided a reality check and caused me to look at changing companies. It was to some place near Chester (North Wales). Great, a couple of hundred pounds, a weeks earnings in one day. I picked the package up and swung by the flat to upgrade my riding gear. Out of intuition I put on a Neil Pryde wet suit vest and set off up the M1. Late afternoon partly up the M5 it started to snow. This wasn’t good as I was heading north right into it and the temperature was dropping fast. Frozen snow is not good for sports bikes. The snow became heavier and settled. I switched into the inner lane where trucks had worn tracks through to tarmac. This is not a good place for a motorcycle, as one slip and you have 40 tons of truck over you from behind but the bike was more ridable on the tracks and the truck headlights behind helped my feeble glowworms. The snow got heavier still and I pulled into a service station to call base, fill up, scrap the frozen wads of snow off me and the bike and get thawed out. It was now dark. There was also no answer from base but the snow had eased so I carried on and promptly slide off doing just 5 mph. The bike had skidded on a metal strip beneath the snow but was undamaged. So far although I was wet, the wetsuit waist coat kept my core warm whilst the feet were bearable having used cold but water proof sailing boots. My hands were OK too because of the heated grips and handle bar muffers. I hate to think what it would have happened without that waist coat. Some hours later with some luck (having no map), I found the delivery address and more luck, it was open with a surprised security entity to sign for it. It's always one thing to get there but it's another to find someone to sign for things. I promptly turned round and rode straight back before being snowed in 'up north' as they say. Aside from black ice it wasn’t too bad and from Birmingham down merely wet and so on all too familiar territory. I remember very well coming off the M1, through Swiss Cottage and down Park Lane mixing it with all the playboys in their Lambo's and Porches. Just as well there weren't any police about. It was two in the morning, I had survived along with the bike. Six hours later it was back on the Honda for the rest of the week – Hmm, I still only cleared some 350 pounds that week. Something had to change. Scouring the rags again a company was advertising a 350 pound minimum guarantee, 'experienced riders only' it said. I called and went in. Was I experienced enough? The controller interviewed me and set a knowledge test, leaving the room along with a large wall chart of central London streets. I must have looked the part now, ie grimy and couldn't give a stuff. Much to my surprise I got the job. They must have been desperate. The company was 'MM' and were great to work for. The guarantee meant that as long as I reported for work 5 days a week and accepted any job they would guarantee me 350 pounds and so for the next two years, I stayed. Their clients were upper range city based merchant banks and lawyers, a rather genteel group, but of course you had to be very reliable, polite and quick as these top names had much at stake. A quick peruse of the FT the following day would reveal that. MM provided a silver jacket and leggings in heavy duty lined PVC. I’ve never come across anything better than this for riding keeping you dry and warm 10 hours a day every day all year.

By now I knew how to keep the clip board dry and pen operational. Not only that but my hearing had acclimatised to the radio ‘hash’ and lingo, learning how to pick up real words in the thick of London traffic and noise all the while carrying out 'delicate' traffic manouvres.

Controller; “36 36”,
Me; “36”, going west, coffee cup wedged in the fairing.
Controller; “36 pick up J Bank going W4”.
Me part way across Cambridge Circus now heading the wrong way; “36 copy”, then in a few minutes; “36, 36,” pause for the controller; “POB going W4”. (POB is parcel on board).
Controller; “copy 36 pick up Law and Son going E4”
E4 was going slightly backwards to the Temple but was only a few minutes detour and besides, it gave a 'clean' route out to W4. The controller had it all figured out you see.
Me: “36 copy”, then having picked it up but lost the coffee, “36 36 (wait for controller again) POB going E4, W4”
Controller: “36, pick up Mo's going W2”.

And so on until there might be a dozen or more jobs on the boil, 10 hours a day, 5 days a week, 51 weeks a year. Rent had to be paid etc. etc. It was crucial to keep each job correctly prioritised, especially those initial pick ups, so they didn't get unduly delayed. Constant navigational calculations were made with the controller doing similar calculations trying to second guess your time, distance and efficiency. Our controller knew his stuff and sometimes there might be a dozen or more bikes each with 20 or so jobs in hand scattered thoughout greater London. With a radio you only hear the controller of course and you had to be careful not the let your transmit button get jammed down (easy with gloves on and ambient city noise drowning radio sound) or no one could call in or out making you unpopular and everyone else unprofitable for the day. I got quite a buzz from being part of this scene especially delivering so quickly often it took significantly longer for the package to get from their office to their reception than ride it Gray's Inn to the Temple. There was also something about being on the edge and part of the London buzz. A motorcyle was and is by far the fastest way, outside perhaps a police escort, and even they could be 'beaten', of getting something across London especially medical supplies or that life changing legal document.

If you were lucky you’d get return jobs from outer London back to centre, this meant either riding slow (somewhat relative) enough on the return to pick up those profitable return jobs or hoofing it to the central Hub. The controller of course knows exactly how long it takes to get anywhere so your timing had to be good. By this time the now industrial grade A to Z was becoming ornamental aside from the odd trick place and my knowledge of moving through the streets had dramatically improved. It was actually more profitable doing lots of inner city jobs than a distance number with no return. Much of our work involved Lincolns Inn, the City, W1, Clerkenwell, Cheapside and The Temple with their myriad of passageways and local knowledge. I enjoyed being busy here. The traffic was assertive, knew what it was doing and there were so many short cuts one hardly ever got jammed up. It was also easy to have 30 or more jobs on board and knock them off within an hour or so.
to be continued