Six days worth of sore backsides later...

I start today with news that I know will disturb you all. Our erstwhile colleague, Mr Tony Matthews, is still on his first pair of pants since we said goodbye to Blighty last Sunday. Not only this, but he is happy about this fact and doesn't anticipate going for a clean pair any time soon. I don't care if they are your 'lucky pants' Tony, as a group we believe it's time for change. Maybe a bit of adverse public opinion will change his mind so please feel free to add your comments.

After an evening where we were slightly bemused by the tattooed women of Tucson, we headed off for Flagstaff in near 80 degrees after a short excursion to the Aircraft Boneyard which is an airfield near the town where hundreds of obsolete military aircraft are lined up waiting, well I'm not sure what they're waiting for, but whatever it is doesn't seem likely to happen soon. Quite eerie really.

250 miles today and what a contrast from start to finish. I think what is becoming obvious to all of us is that this country is simply huge and the contrast between places makes you realise why 65% of Americans dont have a passport. We are exploring a tiny part of the US and the differences between the places we've called in at have been startling. The flat desert roads of southern Arizona gradually gave way to some of the most stunning mountain roads imaginable and the view as we came over the top of the hill towards Sedona was unforgettable, as were the 110mph bends. I write from Flagstaff, temperature now 45F, where there is still snow on the ground and the pine forest we drove through was about as different to the sand dunes down south as it gets.

Inevitably, things dont always go smoothly. We have been in the habit of stopping a few miles short of our destination for a quick beer and a ciggi. Today however, the shoplady who sold us the grog seems to have grassed us up to the coppers who turned up a minute or two later. At this point we ditched the beer, undrunk, into a dumpster and stood round looking guilty. When Mr Policeman had gone we were tempted to dangle Neil by the ankles so that we might retrieve the beers but decided against it as paying for second masseur in two days would probably take Neil over budget.

Point to add regarding the helmetless biking of yesterday... Digger, Tony and I now all look like we've been seriously tango-ed. The Arizona sunshine is generally, it is said, a little stronger than the feeble and flimsy-wimsy stuff we get back home. Serves us right.

The long Good Friday...

Today we said goodbye to Yuma and its single brain cell and hello to Tucson which seems much higher up the food chain entirely. One of my favourite movie quotes relates to this place... In 'An Officer and a Gentleman' Richard Gere and his fellow new recruits are lined up by the drill sergeant chappy who asks one poor unfortunate where he's from. The lad replies "Tucson, Arizona, Sir", to which the drill sergeant adds "There's only two things come from Tucson, Arizona, boy... Steers and Queers. And you ain't got no horns!" Ok, small things amuse small minds... That said, Tucson is a pretty town and you certainly dont get the impression that it is in the middle of a desert. One strange observation is that there are 43 Tattoo parlours and only 6 bars. Consequently, there are a lot of mainly women wandering round with more ink in their skin than a bic ball-point factory would get through in years. Once again, a recurring theme is that the locals are very courteous and friendly and wherever we've stopped have been only too willing to give advice on places to go and things to see (admittedly they dont always have a clue what they are talking about but their hearts appear to be in the right place).

The trip here from Yuma was equally spectacular as it was different from previous days on the Tour. Long straight roads that stretch almost indefinitely into the heathaze provided some of the best biking yet. Now we do have an admission here... Arizona do not insist on the wearing of helmets and with the weather a beautiful 75 degrees it was time for the shorts, t-shirt and hatless brigade to emerge. As the following bit of video shows there is nothing more exhillarating than whizzing along at 90 with the wind in your hair and the sun warming the cockles of your heart and other exposed bits. Click on.. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I_0ZnzRenP8  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hFVBXqPqLts or http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O8hr8av5GEY  if you'd like to take a look. However, we don't recommend that any youngsters out there try this at home and as a group we are wholeheartedly in favour of a safety first approach to motorcycling. However, this will go down as one of the most memorable experiences ever.

I have heard some excuses in my life but Neil's whimpering that his back was so stiff and painful upon arrival in Tucson and 'can we see if I can get a massage?' has to go to the top of the list. Sometimes it's necessary to embellish this blog for the amusement of all two of you who read it but this episode just wrote itself. After much groaning, an hour and a half later Neil emerged a new man. I should point out in the interests of his relationship with Alison that Neil's masseur was a professional, if you know what i mean (though i'm not sure if that helps his case much). Also worthy of mention is that Digger played his joker in Tucson (we are each allowed one night when either fatigue or too many bevvies early doors leaves one too 'tired' to go out. It was previously expected that Digger would not contemplate playing his at any point. Pete used his in Yuma while the remaining infants have yet to play theirs.

Flagstaff is our destination tomorrow. Today goes down as the only day of the trip so far when we haven't got lost. A small fact this but when you've spent much of the past week going the wrong way down lots of blind alleys it's significance should not be understated.

April fools...

I am relieved to report that after their confrontation with the San Diego PD, Neil and Tony were set free so that the Tour could continue (though they were apparently pumped thoroughly for information and now have indelible memories of a certain policeman by the name of Big Bubba). Andy returned to the hotel garage to find that his Harley had disappeared... all by itself. Half a coronary later it was revealed to him that he was indeed the subject of a cruel but very funny April Fools joke... aptly named.

Thursday's ride took us from sea level up through a stunning range of hills at around 4500 feet and back down to the plains of Arizona. The weather was fab, the roads stretched into the distance further than you could see and bear in mind that the next time the roads melt back home (assuming we ever have a summer) the temperature here regularly exceeds 45C and the roads are 100%. I believe that I was unfair in my assessment of Yuma yesterday. It's a nice place but the one horse moved to Vegas a few years back and the population seem to share amongst other things several genes and the same brain cell.

As ambassadors of Great Britain (though everyone here seems to think we're all Australian) we did our bit to advance the 'Special Relationship' which exists between our countries and seen here are Neil and Andy sharing an entente cordial with the barmaid of the only pub in town.

After nearly a week of living out of black bin bags, issues of personal hygiene are now coming to the fore. A certain member's riding boots are now banned from three states and are becoming a hazard to public health. It would be unfair to name names, wouldn't it Reidy?


We hit the road to Tucson on Friday, hopefully not literally.

Oh bugger... Tony and Neil arrested!

A slight spanner in the works this morning. Two of our number, both known for their jolly japes, took things a little too far as we took in the sights of San Diego harbour. Tony thought it would be amusing to tell an assembled group of Americans how their version of 2nd World War history is everso slightly innaccurate and that the first three years weren't in fact a warm up.

Unfortunately for Tony and Neil who happened to be laughing loudest at Tone's wit, one of the crowd was an 'on duty' copper who proceeded to arrest our two boys for behaviour likely to incite a mild outburst. They were last seen being taken away by the rozzers to be given some 'local hospitality'.

In true Red Lion Bikers fashion, the rest of us did a runner and are hot tailing it out of here before Neil and Tony break under torture and give our location away.

Shocking news... RLB Tour Blog infiltrated by deviant forces...

HELLLOOOO BOYS!!

Thought we would give you a little reminder of what you’re missing.
Local photographer, Turkey Ed, jumped at the opportunity to help out with his camera and flashgun to take these sexy images of us girls…just for you boys. (I’m sure your blog followers will increase now Chris).
The photo shoot was set up in St.Terence’s, (word must have got round, as even Dawn, Terry’s wife, turned up) with quite a few onlookers, and you thought Terry was joking about the full house on Tuesday night, and Pete, Sandra was not joking either about, I quote “I’m surrounded by men!” She loved every minute as you could tell in her voice and by the smile on her face in the photo. Julie took some persuading, so Turkey Ed did a little job on her and tried to disguise Andy’s beauty, by giving her a slightly darker complexion and a fluffy yellow boa. Ginny came along in her biker gear, as she ‘felt closer to Tony’ that way, and refused to remove her neck scarf. Ali, decided to go the whole way and have a quickie boob job, and wow, can’t you tell? Sorry you had to find out this way Neil, but at least you will be prepared when your credit card declines and you can tap up Digger for a sub. Look on the bright side, you love bigger breasts, apparently, and these are all for you. Andrea, the shy one, decided to go for hair extensions as Chris loves long dark hair, and has convinced her that every girl in America is short, slightly overweight and very very blond. Of course, Karin could not wait to get in on the act, and soon got her kit off for the boys. Despite the roaring fire, the more mature generation had to pose complete with shawl. This one is for you Digger.
Do enjoy boys, we miss you!

Pants...

Welcome to San Diego, which by all acounts and our experience since landing here is a very pleasant city and the only criticism one might level is that there are more places open after 11 in Hollington on a Wednesday night to buy a dodgy kebab than in this city of 3 million souls. That said, this place will be forever remembered as the place where Andy fell off a bar stool in front of a hundred locals and wasn't even drunk at the time. Priceless.

340 miles saw us traverse from Pismo Beach to here. As we were passing LA, we nipped down Rodeo Drive to do a bit of shopping but regretably could not find a pound shop anywhere along its length so left disappointed but with plans to return in the future with view to opening the same, somewhere between Chanel and Wilko's. I couldn't see Julia Roberts anywhere and have decided that that's the last time I watch Pretty Woman after more vodka than is healthy. Sorry love, you've missed your chance. I called, you were out.

Tip of the day... don't eat the chicken nachos from Newport Beach Mexican takeaway unless you're really desperate and within easy reach of a bathroom for the following 6 hours. Second tip of the day... don't ever share a room with Andy if you expect to get any sleep. Third tip of the day... dont ever offer to pay Chris's phone mobile bill, and finally... dont ask for directions from Neil :)

The last leg of the day from Newport to San Diego resembled motorbike pinball as we bobbed through the heavily congested freeway. A personal highlight was exiting the motorway at Miramar, home to TopGun. I'm no longer bitter that they turned me down... Kelly McGillis never did it for me anyway. Inevitably we got lost again, coming into San Diego this time, but with a twist that by this time we'd lost each other too and Neil's plaintiff appeal of 'where am i?' could only be met with 'dont ask us... we're lost too'.

Oh yes, Pants... there is a general feeling that we've all packed too many. On the basis that so far the average pants used by each bloke is err... one, it is unlikely that any more than two pairs per person will be utilised during the remainder of the tour. So, no change there then.

Tomorrow it's goodbye California, good day y'all Arizona. Destination Yuma (pop. 26, horses 1, sheep probably now very worried) famous for, well, bugger all.

From the edge of despair to Red Lion Pool Champ... all in one day

Three days of exposure to Reidy's unique sense of humour is enough to drive even the most sane man to madness and here Pete appears to be ready to jump. Seen here contemplating making that final leap I am pleased to report that having been wrestled from the precipice (not by us I might add as we were all standing cameras at the ready but by a passing resident of Carmel where the photo was taken, though after Pete had asked if he knew Clint Eastwood personally the aforementioned resident threatened to push Pete over the edge... well, i'm sure he's never been asked that one before) Pete then climaxed later in the day by winning the inpromptu Red Lion ex-Pats Pool Tournament held in the extremely seedy 'Harry's Bar' in Pismo beach.

The day prior to Pete's sudden death victory over Digger and Snail was as good as it gets. Riding along the very winding Pacific Coast Highway was a truly memorable experience and all were merry until the fish supper in Pismo. We seem resigned to the fact that we will spend two weeks in this blessed country eating nothing but s**t. Terry, I take back all I've ever said about your deep fat fryer.

The prospect of a long ride to San Diego on Wednesday (coupled with an earlier than usual early doors) meant that we were all retired by 10.30pm. What a bunch of lightweights.