It’s happened.

Luca at Sondel Sport and Rev’it have all delivered on their promise and I now stand clad head to toe in skintight black leather!

It’s a very tasteful set of matt black trousers that are boot cut and go over my Sidi’s and an exceptionally well tailored jacket that does not look like a box with a couple of arms stuck on. It’s longer than the usual ladies jacket and has lots of elasticated panels that pull in at all the right places, and it’s one of the most comfortable jackets with hard protection I’ve ever tried on.

What I particularly like is that they are very discreet and I can walk down the street without them screaming, ‘I’ve got a motorbike’.

And even if I do say so myself – I look damn fine in them… so there.


Hooning in to work on the hoonmobile and enjoying myself immensely charging down Pall Mall, when I notice a well dressed chap on a scooter waving at me.

I wave back.

He starts waving a bit more frantically.

I flip my visor up and look more closely at him. Initial impression is that he wants a lift on the back seat, however he’s indicating for me to pull over so I do.

In quite an accented voice he informs me I’ve lost my number plate.

“Eet fell off back at ze big ‘ouse.”


“At ze big ‘ouse, your number plate, eet fall off.”

So it has. Bugger!

“You going to go back for eet?”

Mate, I’ve got to work out what the hell you mean before I go anywhere.

So I thank him graciously for his information, and scoot in to work ASAP; only stopping briefly to let a couple of bike plod go in front of me – “No, no, after you, I insist”.

Park up at work, get changed and put my trainers on in readiness to retrace my steps.

Big house? WTF?

Penny drops – that’ll be Buckingham Palace then.


I do like to think that within our powered two wheel world, we have an unwritten set of rules and manners that more or less everyone agrees with.

Like nodding at other bikers; it’s a given – we all do it, except those in city centres, cos you’d get an RSI if you kept it up.

(However, big Nod to the guy on the black GSXR, in black leathers, with a black visor and a black and blue lid outside The Big House most mornings at 8 am. He always nods to me as we cross paths, almost like twins – totally getting the all-in-black leather, bike, visor combo).

But stopping to let other bikes out of T-junctions?

To me, it’s not always a good idea. Time and a place etc.

Lovely of the chap on the black uprighty thing (new ER-5?) on Duke Street St James’s this morning to slow for me to pull out but I had to shake my head and decline cos I noticed that the car behind him couldn’t see why he was slowing and very nearly ploughed into the back of him.

Yup – you could say the car driver should have been paying more attention, but in the real world we know that’s not going to happen.

In Mr Uprighty-could-be-an-ER5-thing’s defence though, it may well have had something to do with my bum in my new, tight, black leathers on a gorgeous black R6 that made him want to slow down… yeah… right… ’course it was.

I’m afraid that in all the excitement of preparing for and then disappearing off on holiday, Tinks forgot all about filing her column before she left! However, I dived into the archive and dug out one of my favourites so nobody needs to feel too hard done by – Ed

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