Page 1/6 WORDS: ROB LAWSON PHOTOS: STEVE CORBETT COUPES MOTO LECENDE DI JON-PRENOIS, BURGUNDy, FRANCE It was last winter, there were a few mates sitting around the bar of a Kent pub, seeking the warmth of an open fire and hoping to dry out before "the ride home, and then suddenly there was one of those moments when you think, 'What did I just agree to?' The conversation had turned to the First World War and someone suggested popping over to Ypres to visit the Belgian front. But somehow, between the second and third pint of Landlord's Choice, I'd missed a bit of the conversation. Like the nodding dog that I am, I was signed up on the dotted line for a quick trip to France. Then my friend Mellie mentioned the Coupes Mqtg_Legende at Dijon as being loaded with classic old shite (in fact, the biggest gathering in Europe of classic old shite) and it was a done deal for me. My poor geography of lands south of the English Channel had me thinking that it was a short hop from Ypres to the event. No problem, and then, on the way back we could pop to the Normandy beaches, too... The night air cleared my head on the ride home and, by the time I was able to do a bit of internet searching, the truth was revealed the Dijon-Prenois track was 350 miles further south of Ypres. So, on a drizzly wet morning a few months later, a lightly loaded KTM Adventurer with Mellie on board turned up outside my house at 6.3Oam. My own Hinckley Bonneville was carrying luxury items such as extra strong mints and spare socks. Our mission was to get to Calais and then move onto the Ypres Salient battlefields before heading south. Before the first packet of mints was finished we were in Lille and, dropping our bags, hopped over the border to Passchendaele. Nightlife in Lille scored a big fat zero although we were lucky enough to find a Trois Brasseurs pub with its micro-brewery. They kept stacking the beer on the table until they lost count we were drinking at three times the rate they could count it... Result! Ypres itself was a very moving place and the 'In Flanders Field Museum' museum is a very special place indeed; I was lost in the significance and tales of the past generations. A hundred years seems like no time at all. Then, to follow that with the last post at the Menin Gate, was sure fire fuel to get your mind ticking as you head South for Dijon the next day. Ah the French motorway (or Peage system O if you prefer); it's a pain in the butt for the motorcyclist but, like all things, it was pain before pleasure, albeit 320 miles in one very flat run to Dijon. Good stuff happens and Mellie and I were happy to find new company in the five Harley riders that pulled up alongside us at our hotel. Needless to say, it was an eclectic night based upon the various biking philosophies of the world and the common ground of the Hot Rod Hayride. The slightly blurred Saturday morning was kind in fact, almost too kind as the sun was hot... damn hot! Dijon motor racing circuit was bathed in a warmth and hospitality that dissolved the language barrier. Auto jumble market stalls with the wonderment of names such as Motobecane and Terrot confronted us. Obviously the people of France are just as keen on old shite as we are here. They obviously like their '7os Japsters too as plenty of chrome mixed with the exfoliating French classics. Some exotic bits and bobs were to be had, but the best of all was in the paddock. At the shows at home you slowly start to recognise all the bikes on display, but this was certainly not the case here, as we encountered French bikes with names of which we'd never heard, as well as a few we had. The photos can only show a snippet of what we found. But to sit on the sun-drenched banking with a cold beer and watch the bike 'parade' was brilliant. I think the translation for 'parade' is 'wringing its neck and beating the rest'... Coupes Moto Legende has been held for twenty-two years (it moved to the Dijon circuit a few years back) and it now attracts 30,000 visitors, including people from ali over Europe, as well as the UK, too. And, after a happy day pointing at old shite, we headed to Normandy just 400 miles away, It's amazing what a wet night in an English pub can inspire you to do! O
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Page 3/6 MH1 Monet Goyon S3& iscc in need of tender loving core Nattily dressed youngster aboard a 113.7 Terrot Type H, unusually ft still has a JAP engine, although Terrot was building its own motors by then a Marco Grandoni sidecar combination
Page 4/6 Beautiful M3.7 Koehler-Escoffier 1000 Va 'H pipes' (because of the ) Only B were ever built My POOR GEOGRAPHU OF LANDS SOUTH OF THE ENGLISH CHANNEL HAD ME THINKING THAT IT WAS A SHORT HOP FROM U PRESTO Dl JON...
Page 5/6 I THINK THE TRANSLATION FOR 'PARADF IS 'WRINGING ITS NECK AND BEATING THE REST'...
Page 6/6 -fr Fabulous Fantic chopper lisa Soyer SQOcc OHV j -TO;^WM ii'''''ywbqi'*-**' 1 '"*?'^ """*'*''' """"IW