Shakedown Easter bank holiday Monday

I was feeling a bit like the odd one out down on the seafront today, given that I didn't have a massive engine between my legs.

It was your standard Easter Bank holiday, the bikers arrive on their annual Shakedown migration. There were thousands of them, from Hell's Angels in their battered leathers to chavs on mopeds. Scooter boys, tourers, even those Mad Mac trikes that are ridden by people with bald heads with bones through their noses who like role playing games.

A heady mixture of patchouli oil and two-stroke fumes fogging out the sea air as they swung their machines into the parking area.

And then there was me. aerodynamic in my Rapha winter jersey, cutting a dash between the bikers, mushroom on my head. The other extreme of two-wheeled transport.

Different cultures entirely. But we all like a ride.

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