It’s for charity. The great excuse reason for getting dolled up and dragging that pristine machine out of the garage on a Sunday morning. The last of the summer warmth clinging to the tarmac. Sunday drivers destined for garden centres somewhere, leaving roads free for fun, and the fug of a thousand bikes in the Capital.

Tweed, ‘taches, military jackets, smiles all round. BSAs, Nortons, Triumphs, old Kwaks and things I couldn’t identify. I was too busy driving, anyway, our Morgan Three Wheeler turning heads, making smiles, fitting in even with (or probably because of) it’s 50% extra wheel count. The biker fraternity are not hung up on originality, nothing is taken seriously, the atmosphere chipper. Triumph gave away a new bike to a chap recovering from illness. Top marks, chaps.

We’re huge fans of this machine, Morgans Three Wheeler. It attracts attention like nothing else, from the start at London’s Olympic Stadium to the tourist hotspots, people running yards to catch up for a selfie, to shout encouragement and admiration. A white Aventador driver rolling down his window to take a snap with his phone. Two thumping cylinders shaking the chassis, the narrow torque band encouraging the stirring of the stick, whiplash acceleration to beat the lights and keep up with these enthusiastic bikers.

I’m driving, she’s driving, the Countess of Peef standing on the passenger seat to get shots of the throng.

You can pick a sartorial style you like, a bike you want, and think about the effort made to bring it together on a sunny Sunday morning somewhere like this. But I most admire the loon on a scrambler in a red and white stripey Victorian bathing costume. I have no idea how he qualifies as a ‘Distinguished Gentleman’ but upon seeing him chase us down East India Dock Road, like a pervy automotive where’s Wally, I laughed until it hurt.

A big thanks to all who participated, again, a huge amount of money was raised for men’s health charities (note to Organiser; charge for registering for info, you’ll raise even more money). Only a M3W would do for the serious business of not taking yourself too seriously, on the Distinguished Gentlemans Ride.

Pics; Lex Pearce and me.

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