Motorcycle and Scooter appreciation

I had to google paracord bracelet. :)

The brief was continental meanderings, we have to assume these will be summertime peregrinations because, let's face it, who rides a bike to the Alps in winter. I can't speak for Germany but crossing France on two wheels is never entirely comfy. Invariably, it will rain torentially somewhere between Pas de Calais and the Bourgogne. There will be an epicentre of semi liquid cow dung and mire around Chablis with a general brightening of mood / clouds the nearer you are to Beaune.

There will be a frantic, bug splattered chase of sports cars. Somewhere on the way to Lyon, you will discover your black visor is inappropriate for the conditions. Multiple circumnavigations of the old city will be required to find a hotel room free of the national brass band convention. En route to Grenobles to meet the Route Napolean, soaking wet leathers will sit on the chest and thighs like a concrete blanket, shrinking the parts that other vehicles cannot reach. And finally, descending the lavender scented hillsides of Grasse, slick with nervous sweat from the twisties, a humid clam-bake awaits as you beleagueredly flop on the bed of your Cannes hotel.

Now, post shower, guide Michelin in hand with whip pointed towards the Croisette, I admit the GS Rider will have less a tingle in the fingers. His harris, while roundly chapped, will not have gnawed away at the seat cover and he will still hold a visage of uncomfortable sanity.

But sat there in the dusk, in a lengthening shadow cast by his Teutonic boat anchor, he may only look on in envy as Mr MV Agusta, wild eyes dancing across a distant horizon is coaxed tenderly from the saddle, with Ricard and Cigarettes, front row and centre on the Med's finest show.

Buy the MV, innit?