The long And Winding Road, As It Is

Ah, the 'summer sun', clear blue skies, sweat pooling in the back my layered suit,and my back-protector, The smell of a bit of spilt oil burning off the exhaust.
Oh how I yearned for the vast open spaces, the eventual dip in the ocean, the chill clearing the cobwebs, and a cold beer in a quaint pub overlooking the breakers.
But.
I am currently in England, summer didn't really happen, and I chose the possibly last warm sunday to join 'millions' trying to get their piece of gritty Ice-Scream.
I was fortunate, that I was NOT in a car, but taking my beautiful big motorcycle through miles and miles of queuing traffic, is not my idea of a good ride, and my Pixie Pillion admonished me, as my nerves frayed towards single finger waves.
Avoiding Brighton, we took a turn to it's poorer and less glamorous sister to the west.
The sun was gone, the rain arrived, the beer Italian and expensive, and pebbles on the wind battered beach.
But, I know,
I'll go again, and again. Not necessarily for the traffic, which I detest, but THE JOURNEY.
Looking back, I write about travelling rather a lot.
Hmm wonder why?