Gary Pinchin,
27 September 2007 14:14
“We were two up, weighed down with a tank bag and saddlebags, and lost somewhere in Wiltshire, trying to ride up a one-in-four narrow lane that was bereft Tarmac and covered in loose gravel. “The Bullet was chugging away effortlessly in second gear and I swear to God you could count each firing stroke. It was so utterly ludicrous in ...
