Our little clubhouse provided a welcome respite from the constant rain that had followed us all day.
Inside, the scent of freshly made coffee blended with the warm, yeasty perfume of baked flans.
We sat comfortably while rumble resonated down the street, becoming a wonderful symphony of purring motorbikes.
A bevy of vintage motorcycles rolled to a stop right outside our window, their chrome glistening in the sudden cloudburst.
It was as if the heavens had welcomed these magnificent machines.
I, a car and motorcycle enthusiast, was immediately captivated.
The first to catch our eye was a black 1931 Ariel SG31.
With its clean lines and single-cylinder engine, it exuded timeless elegance.
Next to it was a red Ariel Red Hunter, its color as bright and fiery as its name suggests.
This one seemed to whisper about adventures on dusty trails and open roads.
Next came a machine that seemed straight out of a history book - a 1941 army green BSA.
Its practical design spoke of a bygone era when motorcycles served for leisure and work.
Next to it was a black Ariel Square Four, with its four cylinders a testament to the burgeoning power and innovation of the motorcycle world.
The parade continued with an Ariel with a sidecar, a charmingly practical combination that spoke of cozy outings and shared journeys.
Then came the showstopper: a bright red Ariel Square Four Mk 1.
This motorcycle was a rolling work of art, its cherry red paint glistening in the afternoon sun.
The last was a dark red 1947 Ariel VH500.
This powerful machine commanded respect with its hefty engine and robust frame.
He reminded us that these old bikes were not just sentimental relics but competent vehicles that required skill and respect from their riders.
After spending some time with us, savoring a tasty cup of coffee and a piece of flan, the sound of the motorbikes returned, and the bikes came alive.
One by one, they rode away, leaving a trail of exhaust and a sense of awe.
Just as almost the last engine disappeared around the corner, the heavens opened again.
A dozen motorcyclists waited a little longer for the shower to pass.
It was a wise decision as a fierce thunderstorm rolled in and flooded the streets with a torrent of rain.
In our little clubhouse, we watched the downpour with satisfaction.
We had encountered sun and chrome, a fleeting glimpse into a world of vintage motorcycles and adventurous spirits.
The storm outside could not dampen the warmth these magnificent machines and their riders left behind.
And the desire to pull my motorcycle out from under the dust sheet only intensified.
This encounter was a powerful reminder that motorcycling is not just about braving the elements.
is about the love of the machine itself, the respect for history, and the desire for the open road.
It is a monument to the eternal human spirit, a soul that finds joy in the roar of the engine and the wind in their hair, rain or shine.
And yes, while the thrill and freedom of riding cannot be denied, seeing these vintage beauties parked in front of our cozy cafe was a close second.
So, next time you see a group of vintage motorcycles riding down the street, don't condemn them for a lack of weather resistance.
They are not wimps; they ride their unique path, rain or shine.
@meraki7578💚
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📷 Photos & video: Owned and shot by me with an iPhone 14
📷 Video edited: Movavi video editor plus 2020
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