If You Can’t Stand the Heat

It’s been pretty warm here in the UK of late. On 1st July, we exceeded the previous warmest day on record reaching 36.7 °C (98.1°F). So, it was probably not my smartest decision to venture out on the bike for my daily commute in black heavyweight leathers. The ride in, early enough to be ahead of the heat,  just about tolerable even in traffic. Roads dry, warm and debris free so I was able to corner at speed. Quite a fun start to the journey. The latter half, picking a path on my bulky GSA through queuing traffic was less amusing. 

But the trip back, a different matter entirely. From the start, cars and trucks clogged routes. No easy way through at sufficient velocity to feel stable which necessitated paddling the bike through opposing wing mirrors. I may have mentioned that the handlebars and mirrors on the GSA are wider than the average bike, and higher. This combination is a pain in the proverbial now that the majority of vehicles appear to be either SUV, taxi, or man in a van. Swaying and twisting 250Kgs on tiptoes is a tedious means of making progress.

Thirty seconds after leaving the office I'd broken into a sweat. By the time I had reached the first set of lights I was overheating. A glance at the stationary traffic almost convinced me that air-conditioned transport, though it might be slower, could have some advantages. Reaching the Blackwall Tunnel took a further 20 tortuous minutes. Road junction? Red light. Empty pedestrian crossing? Red light.  I began to wonder, had I developed a perverse telekinetic power?

If I was expecting the traffic would be lighter once I was through the tunnel I was dismally wrong. Those expectations proved to be off the scale optimistic. Two lanes of slow moving tunnel opened out to three lanes of stutteringly stationary vehicles. Paranoia sets in, is it too much to ask that drivers don’t hog the white lines? Surely a deliberate ploy to prevent even motorcyclists from making progress. “If I can't move then neither will you!”. Progress is slower than slow and I start to feel perspiration pooling in my boots, putting a new perspective on paddling. Wonder how much wear I’m putting on my clutch? Grrrrr! Just to put myself in abetter frame of mind I consider alternative modes of getting back. Car? I’m passing plenty those even at these speeds. Tube & train? If it’s hot out here, wonder what it’s like down there packed close with sweaty bodies. Perhaps the train would be tolerable, but the tube …. that’s not an experience I’d relish.

At last, space! Out of first gear and making enough progress to make it worth lifting my boots back onto the pegs. An hour later, arriving back, I have to peel myself, squelching, from my portable sauna. I decide that sometimes there can be too much of a good thing, and today was definitely those few °C too far.