I have for many years avoided throwing cash at people undertaking adventures or extreme sports in the name of philanthropy. A professional photographer I knew in the UK, couldn’t understand why I refused to sponsor his Royal Enfield ride across India for Cancer Research. All he had to do was raise several thousand pounds in sponsorship and he could climb aboard a plane, spend a couple of weeks riding a fully supported machine across a carefully planned route. He didn’t need to spend a single cent of his own cash. Participation was contingent on raising funds to minimum level, this amount being the bare minimum to cover the cost of the trip. With everything he raised above and beyond that level being directed to the charity. I didn’t think it was fair then, and I don’t think its fair now.
The Charity function, the “Distinguished Gentleman’s Ride” appeals to me however. Founded I believe in Perth, and now a worldwide event, with the aim of raising funds to end Prostate Cancer. No plane tickets, no hugely expensive infrastructure, just a Social Function for slightly eccentric motorcyclists to have a laugh, dress up whilst not taking themselves to seriously, and raise some cash along the way.
This year I plan to participate in the ride as a “Distinguished Gentleman” and I’m going to go all out, because next year pretending to be a Distinguished Gentleman will hopefully be considerably more challenging. I will be digging out my most “Dapper Attire” and riding a true Gentleman’s machine. A Triumph based Cafe Racer.
When I climb onto my Cafe Racer to take part in the Distinguished Gentlemans Ride, as part of my dapper attire I shall of course be carrying a pipe. My initial work to track down a pipe, triggered some incredibly fond memories of my late Grandfather Earnest “Ernie” Sawyers (I called him Pappa). He was a gentle soul, and a confirmed pacifist who spent the war years working as an Air Raid Warden in a heavily bombed city. In my eyes, a truly Distinguished Gentleman.
Ernie always smoked a Pipe. He also always wore weird springy metal things round his shirt sleeves, strange devices, that as a young boy completely fascinated me. Hidden away in an antique wooden “side board” he kept his Harmonica, an instrument that annoyed my Father to apoplexy and so delighted me in equal measure.
Ernie and my Grandmother “Kath”, lived at the other end of the country to the rest of the family, so visits were rare, which made them incredibly special. In the early 1970’s visiting Bristol from the North of England was a major expedition.Arriving at their home on the outskirts of Bristol is an incredibly vivid memory. Their tiny house would quickly be filled to the brim with visiting Astons, noisy and bristling with energy after several hours in an even tinier car.
Being the youngest, and smallest I usually found a spot sat Ernie’s knee. He would quietly puff away on his pipe, punctuating his stories, with clouds of rich aromatic smoke. Passive smoking or not, I wouldn’t have missed that experience for anything. His softly spoken, thoughtful words, providing an oasis of calm in an otherwise chaotic childhood.
Ernie sadly passed away when I was quite young. But as with any distinguished gentleman, he left a lasting impression. He used to tell me I was special, and reminded me often that I could be anything I wanted to be. So on the 27th of September with that voice still in my head I will be a Gentleman. Carrying a Pipe, a Harmonica and and if I can find any, a pair of weird springy metal things for my shirt sleeves. I will also be remembering a genuine Distinguished Gentleman devoted to Peace and Liberty.
Feel free to sponsor my ride for a good cause…
http://www.gentlemansride.com/rider/capttimbo
Thanks….
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