Motorbike riders have a reputation. A bad reputation. Wild, thrill seeking, untamed, dangerous, fearless. I do nothing to uphold that reputation. I potter along at the speed limit, sometimes a little under. I even have been given the unsympathetic moniker of Captain Slow. That’s a bit harsh I think. But apparently the police think that my nickname is quite suitable. Let me explain.
Last weekend was one of those fine autumn days that Victoria puts on just to remind us of how glorious Victoria can be while simultaneously reminding us that summer will leave us soon and then we will be in the depths of a despairing winter funk. Or maybe that’s just me? Making the most of these days when they come along is imperative so we went for a motorbike ride along the Great Ocean Road.
After enjoying a delightful lunch at Lorne we started to make our way home, stopping for a few pictures along the way.
It was while riding along the straight at Fairhaven Beach when I was pulled over by the police. I was convinced that I had been done for speeding in the section of road that dropped from 80kms to 60kms.
But no the police just wanted to check my licence. They thought I must have been a learner not displaying plates (or wearing one of those funky high viz vests that all learners now must don when riding). They thought that my bike was too small. Surely a fully licenced rider would have upgraded to a more powerful machine. You know those wild, thrill seeking riders.
Once I was sure that I wasn’t getting a fine I felt confident enough to speak my mind. “Everyone wants me to buy a bigger bike so I can go fast” I told them. By everyone I meant Ben. “But I don’t want to go fast! I like my little bike”.
They assured me that it’s ok to go slow, good even, but the damage was done. Even the police are conspiring against me. Even the police want me to buy a bigger bike.