Throttle Therapy

It’s been a good few weeks of weather in the UK.

Once a week, a small crew of us—anywhere up to six of us —have been throwing a leg over our bikes and heading out. No particular agenda, just mates, machines, and a bit of road to clear the cobwebs.

All clad in Sauce & Brown, we've been kicking things off from The Hutt in Mansfield. The usual suspects: a fully custom Triumph Rocket that sounds like it should come with its own postcode, a beastly Ducati Diavel that turns heads at petrol stations, a Harley, my Scrambler, a Street Triple, and a Streetfighter V4 that sounds like it’s angry even when it’s idling.

We’ve been drawn to the Peaks. Crich, Ashover, Cromford... places where the roads roll and twist through villages that look untouched by time. No sat navs, just instinct and good guesses. A proper ride.

It’s not about tearing it up. We’re not chasing speed or mileage. We're chasing headspace. It’s the kind of ride where the helmets come off, the laughs start, and nobody’s really in a rush to head home. Usually, we’ll find a pub with a view, grab a shandy, and talk nonsense for half an hour. That’s the sweet spot.

Photo referring to Catch up #19

Every now and then, we hit the Copper Beech in Bilsthorpe for their Thursday bike night too. It’s a different buzz—plenty of bikes, good people—but it’s the Peak runs that stick with you.

There’s something about the way the air changes up there. Maybe it’s the hills, maybe it’s the company. Either way, we always come back lighter.

See you out there.