Full motorway emptiness.
Summer’s here. Summer is actually in the fullest of summerness. Summer is so much here that it’s almost gone. Yesterday, out on the Neo-Weapon (a crock-sham wonderbar 853 39x16 fixed wep with a Nitto front rack carrying thin air and theoretical dreams) I hammered a sixty mile loop around Hever and that. It’s sunny, though it’s interspersed with clouds. It’s warm not too warm. I whizz back over the M25 (which is never less than 55 minutes from home, I realise, and often bang-on an hour..) and there is the massive queue, the roof boxes, the sun-seekers and holiday-makers. I always take joyous glee at passing a motorway and seeing it backed-up; this was no different. But something special is in the air: the summer vacation begins.
That means no more negotiating arsehole school traffic in the mornings. Six weeks of freedom, as I peel out of London (or into work), setting inter-urban PBs and not colliding with phone-check Year 9 wankers. They’ve all pissed off to Spain, or Greece, or even just Derbyshire. Why do they all leave on the same day? That always seems daft.
I’m not on vacation yet. And the summer hits tipping point. See, I’ve been in summer mode since April 11th. It was hot enough for shorts then. Seems like now, everyone’s in summer mode; I’m preparing for winter (ie; Scotland in early-August). Next weekend, a fixed 3-dayer to Brussels (and hopefully 3 days back, though I might aim for 2 monster days..). I expect rain and wind. Right now everything seems about right; BBs not too creaky, brakes sharp, wheels true.