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Haulin' Ass
Ride Date 18 Sep 2025
By Bogger
Day 3 Thursday
It’s Thursday morning and once again we’re up early. I’m always up early somehow. The weather is cold, misty and wet. Grim, would sum it up. Let's just get on with it eh. We load the bikes up, along with Tudor who is doing the same with his MP3 Piaggio 500. We thank our hosts for their generous hospitality and are away at 9.20 am. Only a shade under 400mls to do today.
I hope I don’t need my breakdown cover on this trip! If I do, I’m snookered, as I don’t have any. We’ve obviously got our waterproofs on as we travel all of one mile and refuel at Bar P47s self-serve pumps. I’ve taken on board Julia’s suggested route and luckily we don’t encounter any blocked roads or holdups.
For the most part the first 30mls are on the larger main roads. I then set the Phone for Le Mans and we’re soon off on the D roads. The towns and villages pass beneath our wheels. The roads are really good mixture of long sweeping bends followed by literally miles of arrow straight tarmac that disappears into the horizon.
On the map Le Mans doesn’t look that far. I can tell you now, it is. It’s our first major waypoint and it’s taking a good while to get there. Two hours in the sun has come out and is warming us both up nicely. Me and Pete had decided on quick stops every one hundred miles, to stretch our legs. Yes we could do more, but we knew today was going to be tough, so we needed to pace ourselves.
We’ve now covered 130miles and not stopped yet. From one hundred miles into the journey I’ve been keeping an eye out for a petrol station. I’d not seen one and I was down to a quarter of a tank. Luckily as we exit yet another small town there’s a little industrial estate with a supermarket and petrol station. We pull in and fill up both our bikes and plunder the supermarket shelves for sustenance. We both take our waterproofs off because, by now, it is now boiling hot. I also removed my jackets thermal lining.
After half an hour were on our way again. There’s still nearly another one hundred miles to Le Mans.
The roads were pretty much as before. Really good surfaces and almost deserted, apart from the towns and villages. The roads were also big enough to get a shift on. I was quite enjoying myself. We weren’t actually going into Le Mans itself, oh no that would just be madness. I’d set the Phone map for Saint Saturnin just to the North West of Le Mans.
Once we arrived there we stopped and put in the destination as Riberac. I zoomed in and out of the route that Google maps had chosen and I was happy that it led us down the larger roads but avoiding, directly, major towns or cities. Oh dear we’re only just over a third of the way to Riberac.
The major ring road around Le Mans was busy, very busy. I was trying to keep an eye on the road, an eye on the phone and an eye on where Pete was. I soon realised I’ve not got enough eyes. We blunder our way around the worst that Le Mans has to offer and come out the other side unscathed.
But somehow the road we’re now on just doesn’t seem correct. It doesn’t seem big enough and it’s too built up with residential type properties with trendy café bars. I pull over and consult the map. That’s odd it seems to have changed the route. Not massively but slightly. We are heading in the right general direction but not on its original route?? I put my trust in Google maps and off we go again. The housing thinned out and we were soon back on the delightful French ‘A’ roads, heading more or less due South.
It was by now absolutely baking hot and I was ruing my decision not to remove my thermal lining from my trousers earlier in the day. 'Ere, got it wrong again dad!
Now I know we are making good progress. Our speeds are mainly between 60-70mph. But in seemed like we were getting nowhere due to the distances involved. All the villages started to look the same as did the roads and scenery. It was like we were in some sort of doom loop. Albeit a pleasant, Gallic doom loop, but, a doom loop all the same.
We needed another rest, so I pulled over and consulted the digital map. Everything was fine and we were indeed shortening the distance to Riberac. I took the opportunity to remove my trousers and the offending thermal lining. By now my backside is beginning to hurt a bit. The Majesty is a really comfy scooter, but after hours in the saddle it begins to take its toll.
We start to tick off the bigger towns and cities of Loudon, Mirebeau and Poitiers. After Poitiers it feels like were on the home stretch. It’s another hundred mile stretch but the end is almost in sight, ish.
At this point can I just mention French White Van Man. There you are getting a shift on and flying down the French roads. Making progress I think they call it. You really don’t want to be going any faster in fear of losing your license. You then casually glance back and are shocked to see - no not Pete, but a mirror full of van about eighteen inches from your rear number plate. Firstly, how long has he been there? No more than thirty seconds and where did he come from as the last time you looked the road was clear.
To avoid any silly overtaking manoeuvres you signal then pull over as much as it’s safe to do and he’s away. Invariably twenty seconds later he’s out of sight. Fast? Err just a bit.
The weather really is beautiful, a stark contrast from when we set off this morning. There’s a subtle change in the scenery as well, the further south we travel. We’re on the N10 and tick off the Town of Ruffec and further down we skirt around Angouleme without any holdups. We’re getting close now, I can almost smell Riberac. We pass through the centre of Verteillac where the others are staying and now have only seven miles to go. Before Riberac we fill up again and get to Riberac at 6pm. It had been a long day but very enjoyable riding.
I’d researched where to stay in Riberac and had chosen the Air BnB we were staying at mainly due to its brilliant location. A hundred and fifty metres from the town centre and less than one hundred metres from an assortment of bars and cafes. I’d asked the owner of the BnB if there was secure parking for the bikes. I think some of the question got lost in translation. She said that there was a small car park around the corner? It was a bit vague. I didn’t fancy parking the away from the BnB. I’ll weigh it up when I get there.
As it happened when we got there the BnB had its own secure private car park, perfect. Pete hadn’t seen any images of the place and was proper impressed with the set up. I have to say, so was I. We unpacked, sorted ourselves out and had a shower. We wanted to explore Riberac and get a feel for the place. It was 7.30pm when we ventured out and made our short way to the main high street.
Basically Riberac was closed, everything. Ah well. We wandered along the high street and collared a couple of local blokes to ask them if there was a bar open anywhere. They looked at each other muttered and shook their heads. Looks like no where’s open? I gestured over the buildings opposite as when looking at Google maps it highlighted a couple of bars. The light bulbs went on above our French mates’ heads. Ah oui monsieur, Bar Place du Palais.
A short walk had me and Pete ordering drinks at Place du Palais. It was also a restaurant, oh goody. We got ourselves a bit confused asking for food, drinks and menus etc. A young lady behind the bar, perhaps twenty years old helped us out in perfect English, with no hint of an accent. Aha we said - you’re English. No I’m French, again without a hint of an accent. You can’t be? She was indeed French, born and bred. However both her parents were English and had been resident in France for over twenty years. I asked her if the French could tell she was ‘English’, because, her spoken French might be influenced by her upbringing. Apparently not, no one was any the wiser.
Unfortunately they had stopped serving food so after a couple of drinks, me and Pete made our way back to our digs, only a hundred metres away. I rustled up a curry and rice for us and we wolfed that down in no time at all. My head hit the pillow and I was out like a light.
Miles for the day 391mls
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Feet Forward Prologue
Bogger is organising his next French escapade. It's the who, why, what, and where this time, oh and the how. The why never makes sense, nor should it.
Naughty Boys On Strange Bikes
It's a discouraging start to Bogger's Feet Forwards French expedition. Not to worry, soon the 2 old men are sneaking around like naughty school kids.
Queasy Crossing And Useless Till Roll
Rain, wayward boarding passes, useless navigation systems, and rough seas - it's just another day in the life of a Bogger. As ever there's food and booze in the life of a Bogger too.
Haulin' Ass
It's gonna be a long long long ride for Bogger and Pete today. Our brave heroic riders are up to the task and it all seems rather easy overall. Hopefully the digs at the end of the ride will allow their asses to rest comfortably.
Reader's Comments
nab301 said :-
Just like the "old days" when there was no such thing as breakdown recovery! I'm curious on the speed limits in France , I thought outside of motorways and dual carriageways the max speed was 80kph/50mph , I guess white van man had some way around that! The fines look quite steep
Nigel
30/01/2026 14:41:04 UTC
Upt'North ยน said :-
Ta me Canard.
Nigel, I can reassure you with regards your quest for knowledge on the speed limits of 3.5 tonnes vans in France and indeed Italy.
There is no speed limit and they are allowed to follow at a distance which can be measured with a feeler gauge.
You're welcome.
Upt.
30/01/2026 16:54:28 UTC
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