OVER AN EARLY-WINTER’S dinner this week (yes, I cook), warmed by candlelight and a fine Montrachet, my Anglo-French guest asked Suzie Heartbreak and me what we saw for motorcycles in 10 years’ time? At my darkest – i.e. since the gloriously inverted 11/9 – the term ‘future riders’ conjures up the horsemen of the apocalypse, but we shouldn’t let the eager polishing of a million jackboots blind us to the fact that life goes on regardless… until it doesn’t, anyway. As with politics, so goes motorcycling, and if, like me, your head is full of history, you can’t help but notice the big wheel of Samsara turning around, proving that everything new is old again.
‘My morning meditation was disturbed on the introduction of Triumph’s latest Lazarus trick, as the…
