A Grand Day Out - In Preston, Blackpool and Croston

Blog Date - 01 May 2012

It’s been wet recently.  Really wet.  It’s April so it’s expected but it’s been wet.  The gf was over this weekend and we had already agreed upon a short trip to Preston to visit a bike clothing shop called “Ghostbikes”.  Of course being a roughty tufty biker I was not going to be put off by a little precipitation, but it could have taken the edge off the ride.

Friday was a washout, but as I rose on Saturday morning the clouds looked ominous but there was no rain.  It must have rained though as the roads were still wet.  I got up and got ready…then waited…while the gf did the same.  I’m glad I’m not a girl, it’s so complicated!  Hair it seems is always wrong, never seen knickers must match never seen bras and it seems a pretty face requires a lot of care and attention.  I tend to the bike while she tends to herself.

As we get onto the bike a few faint slivers of sunshine poke through the clouds.  We ride less than a mile to my mate’s house and then we set off to Preston.  Apart from a few patches the roads are dry and it’s warm enough to stop shivering.  We hit the motorway where we discover the wind is far stronger than we thought as we both drift across lanes trying to keep control. 

First stop in Preston, Hein Gericke.  I’m returning a visor I’d ordered online that does not fit my helmet.  It seems the shops are a separate department to the online shop and I’ll have to post the visor back.  I spot an AGV for £109 that I like and that fits!  That has a shiny new visor on…my helmet’s getting old…and I have been thinking of a new one…  I’m far far too mean and thrifty to spend any money though.  Well, that was until I was offered the lid at £80 under some odd exchange offer they have on.  Needless to say I left the shop with a new helmet, leaving my old one and the visor there at the shop.

Next stop, Ghost Bikes.  It’s a damn good job my mate had come with us I can tell you.  Down a back road, round the back of another side street and into an old mill car park I am guided directly to the shop.  If I’d have been on my own I’d still be there now, looking.  It’s definitely not a shiny glass fronted type shop, it’s a window and some metal steps into an old brick mill.  Inside its quite small with a few racks full of helmets and bike clothing.  Not much to look at really.

But don’t let that stop you!  That is to miss the point of Ghost Bikes.  Think of it more like Argos, more of a catalogue and discount store.  I’m told they have a huge range and their primary business is selling online.  The shop is a mere sideline and frontage for those who wish to visit.  There’s a PC with their website running, you can find what you want online then ask them to get it for you, to try on.  I meet a friend and his wife who recommend finding what you want online at home, making a note then going to the shop to try it out. 

After a short peruse of the items on offer we leave and head out.  The wind is still blowing us around as we hit the motorway, heading for Coast Rider’s café near Blackpool.  Being on the motorway I can’t believe how quiet my shiny new helmet is!  Of course I can still hear the wind and the bike but it’s now subdued and calm rather than aggressive and rattly.  I think I like my £80 investment.

Coast Rider’s café is at the end of the M55, round a roundabout and a short length of back road.  There’s a large indoor skate park here and the biker’s café is behind this.  We pass among the kids excitedly zipping about on scooters and skateboards and park around the back.  Inside we’re fed and watered, I like it here.  There’s a handful of other bikers laughing and teasing each other whilst kids from 7 to 17 buy chips after doing something much more fun and healthy than play on console games.  I’m jealous too, I remember my BMX and skateboarding youth, I wish I could still do it all, I wish there’d been a place like this when I was young. 

Then a young lad comes in with tears down his face and rubbing his leg.  I also remember the downside to having such fun, injuries.  The same applies to motorcycling too, I remember my tears and my pains when it went all wrong for me.  It makes my stomach turn to recall this, but I dismiss it from my mind.  BMX was my life when I was young, motorcycles are my life as I age, they both come with risks, but I take them as I love riding.

We ride homewards through the pleasant town of Lytham St Annes.  Smart shops line the clean street and the gf states “This is nice!”  A little later we pass through Wrea Green that perfectly copies a scene from Midsomer Murders.  Quaint houses circle a large village green where gentlemen play cricket in their whites while friends and family look on from wooden benches, drinking tea from flasks and eating sandwiches cut into triangles.  It’s all terribly nice and so far from the grimy, dirty and wet towns I’ve been riding through the week before.

We pass back through Preston and out on the Southport road.  A turning takes us through the posh houses of Bretherton and into Croston.  The main road is blooming closed so we have to divert out and back into Croston.  In the village centre we park in the car park of the Wheatsheaf and go in for a drink.

It’s been done up since the gf and I were last in here.  It’s kind of shabby chic, pretend rustic and possibly a little pretentious too.  Still, we get drinks and sit for a while to chat.  I’m not normally one for sitting still too much, I’m always ready for the next thing, whatever that thing is.  Yet today I seem happy to talk of my new helmet, of friends, of the pub and trips I have planned.  Of course I’m still the first to suggest we leave.

All day the weather has been fine.  Windy, yes, but dry and acceptably warm.  It’s been a really grand day out.  I’ve got myself a new helmet, we’ve seen a couple of bike shops, ridden some good roads and seen some nice places.  There was nothing magical, adventurous or challenging about our day out, but that does not matter.  I’ve had good company and a good ride, and that’s what matters.

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