Estate Living Magazine The Slow Movement - Issue 39 March 2019 | Page 61

G O O D
L I F E
R
It’s a wonderful sensation cruising along the Promenade de Anglais,
zipping between the traffic and enjoying the quizzical looks of the
passers-by. As a red light halts my progress, an idea flirts with me –
one full day with this beauty and the entire French coastline at my
disposal. The possibilities were endless. She was not called a café
racer for nothing, and to ignore this heritage would be a blatant slap
in the face. The light turned green and I accelerated away sharply,
buoyed by the plan that was formulating. I was so taken with my
thoughts that I nearly missed the turning to Antibes – yes, it would be
Antibes, a breakfast stop in Juan-les-Pins and then onwards along
those beautiful twisting roads to St Tropez and Le Sube, the best little
café in the Côte d’Azur.
She was standing on the roadside outside a little café, black paint and
chrome glinting in the sunlight. I smiled, and I’m sure if motorcycles
were capable of facial expression she would have smiled back. The
lady in question is a 500cc Royal Enfield from the 1950s and, best
of all, she was all mine for the day. The rental agent, a rather large
man named Bernard, had given me a brief overview of the dos
and don’ts of riding in France, which, being in French, I naturally
did not understand. Nevertheless, I assured him in my best French
that I would rouler lentement, and not go tearing along the twisting
coastal roads. All other thoughts of conversation were drowned out
when I started the bike, the single cylinder thumping away happily
as I kicked her down into first, eased out the clutch and slid out onto
the open road.