Chas and Dave Revisited

It started out an ordinary Sunday, the sky was grey, the sun was out but behind clouds and it was to say the least a bit fresh. But undaunted our gallant hero (that’s me) mounted his trusty  rusty steed and headed off for “The Ace” for lo it did says in magazines there would be a run to “High Beach” a mystical place that I have never been to. {of course dear reader by now of course you will know of the events when last year, we changed route from High Beach to Hever and Steve was very brave}

That was dear reader as good as it gets for not only was there road closures necessitating torturous diversion on my arrival there I find the run was the week before, oh how the assembled throng laughed.

A decision had to be made and the woolly bit in my head decided to strike it out alone, with nothing more than a 1924 road map of the Isle of Man I went to look for High Beach.

Bravely I fought the traffic on the north circular, oh how I chuckled to myself each time I  got lost  (I have the same sense of direction as Steve) and oh how scenic the route was littered as it is with derelict houses and burnt out cars.

But them as squatters houses made way for woodlands I knew I must be near. But where was this place to be found? Luckily stuck at traffic lights I saw a few bikes disappear up a slip road, and though “I wonder if they know where it is?” so I followed them.

And lo there at last was High Beach not only a veritable plethora of tea Huts, but a pub and oodles of bikes.

Unlike Box Hill there seems to be more of a mix of vehicles here, with lots of vintage bikes (though sadly few Triumphs) some really oddball machine like: a road legal mini- moto, a road legal BMW trials outfit , seriously customised scooters, Trifields and the like.

Also it seems to attract an interesting collection of American cars. I spent a while perusing these vehicles, but then the need for lunch came on. Having arranged to meet cousins in Enfield we took fate by the hand and headed off into the unknown.

And there before me was a name which conjured up memories of old. A fabled place immortalised by Chas and Dave .. could it be? It was!  there before me was “Ponders End” and better than that the sign was by the allotments. Though I was not so rude as to ask for the “Ponders End Allotment Society” it made the trials and tribulations die away.

Eventually finding cousins for food I then tried a new route home via the west end just for the fun of it. But with Chinese New year celebrations ,Joan Collins getting married (again) and Chelsea playing at home its an experience I do not wish to repeat. My poor bike was so hot she started cutting out and I has not so happy also.

But we made it but where to next? Tune in next time dear listener…