Highs and ows

Wh h ! An w y,h lovers of old bikes and dirty fingernails. What a month we've had, with the world attempting to restart after the head gasket blew and the ignition cable snapped, retarding our ignition for a year. Meeting folk, riding for the hell of it without an excuse and enjoying the summer weather has felt as nice as a newly fitted chain, and while to many it's been somewhat strange, it is, I'm sure, welcome. Apart from remembering what we all look like without masks. I'm still getting nightmares.

We had to find our Norfolk passports, bathe, shave and rid our robes of moths to live it up at the Goodwood Festival of Speed, where we met many old friends. Goodwood is primarily a car event and has taken over as the UK's car show, but bikes are there, mainly racebikes, with Sammy Miller and the National Motorcycle Museum getting a great collection together. And our friend Andy was there riding his Velocette KTT that his grandfather built. He was so excited riding up the hill climb; he was like a child!

We also spent a weekend at the

Malle Mile. It is, without doubt, the most inclusive old bike event around – and it's all about riding and competing. Maria,

Nev and I had a laugh, and got filthy, and it couldn't have been more different to Goodwood, yet just as good – together they were a wonderful way to blow away the cobwebs of the last year.

But with highs come lows. After a few months of feeling poorly, our great friend Dodge Baker passed away, to the surprise of us all. Having only retired in December, he had so much to do, projects to finish, tales to tell and advice to pass on in his inimitable, often grumpy style. Building Triumphs was a forte, as was welding, but Dodge could turn his talented hands to any bikes, old and new. For those around him, he was straight-talking, accurate with knowledge, and spoke from experience, not what he'd heard somewhere. For me, he was a constant source of ideas, of skills, of the reality of old bikes, and someone who kept me straight.

We all know someone like Dodge. He was 66 years old. No car, he would normally be on his MZ for commuting and his Harley at the weekend. He never travelled the world but he knew his world like the back of his hand – and his world knew him. And we would all be better off being like that. First-hand skills are disappearing – let's talk to each other now, not another day.

Don't waste time – we don't get a fixed amount. Not going out for a ride as it may rain? Why not go for a ride as it may stay dry? Put off getting that project finished for another day? Why? Do it now. Dodge taught us all so much about bikes; now he's showing us how to make the most of our lives. We'll miss you, Dodge.

Hope you enjoy the mag.

Be good,