The whole of the UK is snowed under and struggling. I’m under the weather and struggling too. Nursing a bit of a hangover and reluctant to get out of bed. It’s snowing in London and I should be outside with my mates pelting them with suspiciously icy snowballs. Instead I’m picking up BMW’s flaming-hot new superbike.
I feel sorry for the pristine S1000RR for what I’m about to put it through, most of them won't see winter but it's not all one-sided: the S1000RR is sporting a brand new pair of fresh-from-the-mold Metzeler Racetech K3s. That's just the icing on the ice.
As we run through the formalities it starts to snow even heavier outside. 20ft visibility. I get escorted off the industrial estate by a couple of BMW staff in their cars.
My knees are around my shoulders, I’m getting cramp in both thighs, the bike wants to sit in the ruts of the broken road and go sideways. I want to go back to my car and go home. It says 8mph on the dash as the S1000RR lumbers along - no-one wins a prize for not making it out of the car park. Snow’s gathered thick on my half-open visor after just two minutes – I’ve never had that before.
Riding the S1000RR home in the dark, with snow coming at me head on, I’m in that constant state of being on a theme park ride when you drop into darkness. You’ve half a moment where your eyes can’t adjust and you’re slightly anxious about what’s coming next.
Except I have that feeling for 40 minutes up the A3 as I head back into London. I manage 70mph at one point, I can’t resist opening the bike up a bit at the sight of a gritter. Despite being pelted with increasing ferocity, it’s flashing orangeyness is a beacon of safety. It’s actually comforting being pelted with grit and for a moment I feel safe, in control.
In reality I spend most of the journey at 55mph. I look at the S1000RR gently steaming as I pull the garage door down. I’ve just ridden a superbike through the snow. It was easy. Well, now I'm inside and gripping a warm cuppa, it feels that way.