What do a bunch of bus drivers do on their day off? They go for a 250-mile blast through the Scottish Highlands on motorcycles, and spend the entire day proving you can take the driver out of the bus, but you'll never take the bus driver out of the rider.
People often assume that after spending all week behind the wheel of a bus, the last thing a bus driver wants to do on a day off is drive.
They're only half right.
It isn't the roads we're sick of...
It's the buses.
Swap forty feet of double-decker for two wheels, throw in a handful of fellow bus drivers, some of Scotland's finest roads and enough banter to fill a depot canteen, and you've got the recipe for a cracking day out.
The plan was simple enough: meet at McDonald's in South Queensferry before heading north for a run to Braemar.
Simple...
Unless you're a numpty.
Despite spending my working life getting people to the right destination, I somehow managed to turn up at the McDonald's in Newbridge instead.
Wrong terminus.
Wrong bus stop.
Wrong everything.
That twat was me.
After enduring the predictable amount of abuse, and giving myself plenty as well, I eventually caught up with the lads. Although it wasn't my usual riding crew, it didn't take long to feel part of the group. We all shared the same sense of humour, the same love of driving and, judging by the conversation, the same ability to take the piss out of each other at every available opportunity.
One of the reasons I'd been invited along was because the lads knew I enjoy photography. They'd even built in a few opportunities for me to dust off the camera and get some decent shots. Bikes, spectacular scenery and good company, you really can't ask for much more than that.
We pointed the bikes north, eventually picking up the legendary A93 towards Braemar. There was a slight navigational disagreement somewhere around Perth while trying to find the A85, but every rideout needs someone confidently leading everyone in completely the wrong direction.
Nobody was really lost...
We were just exploring alternative routes.
Eventually, we found ourselves back where we were supposed to be.
Things really came alive just beyond Blairgowrie.
I hadn't ridden that stretch of road in decades and had completely forgotten just how magnificent it is. The bends seem endless, flowing effortlessly from one to the next as the scenery opens up around you. The snow poles standing alongside the road, despite it being the height of summer, still look surreal. They're a reminder of just how unforgiving these roads can become when winter arrives.
Riding with fellow bus drivers is quite an interesting experience.
None of us ever really switch off the professional driver in our heads.
Years of driving buses have taught us to read the road well ahead, anticipate hazards before they develop and assume that somebody, somewhere, is about to do something spectacularly daft. Those habits don't disappear just because you've swapped a steering wheel for handlebars.
If anything, they become even more important.
As we climbed towards the Devil's Elbow, concentration levels naturally increased. It's one of those roads that commands respect. The corners tighten unexpectedly, visibility changes constantly and there's absolutely no room for complacency.
Then there are the sheep.
Those woolly little idiots seem to believe the safest place in the Highlands is standing in the middle of your lane just beyond a blind bend. Every corner becomes a game of "what's waiting around this one?"
And if it isn't a sheep...
It's probably a tourist.
The Highlands attract visitors from every corner of the globe, many from countries where driving on the right is perfectly normal. Unfortunately, muscle memory doesn't always take holidays. More than once you'll come around a left-hand bend to find a hire car drifting worryingly close to your side of the road while its occupants are busy admiring the scenery instead of remembering which country they're driving in.
As professional drivers, we're taught never to assume.
Always leave yourself somewhere to go.
Always have an escape plan.
It's a mindset that serves you just as well on two wheels as it does behind the wheel of a double-decker.
Thankfully, everyone stayed rubber-side down, and before long we rolled into Braemar, where the bikes were parked up, stories exaggerated slightly and cameras appeared. It's funny how quickly the miles disappear when you're surrounded by good people. The destination almost becomes secondary.
The best parts of any ride aren't measured in miles.
They're measured in moments.
The laughs over breakfast.
The sarcastic comments at every fuel stop.
Someone taking a wrong turn.
The view that makes everyone stop talking for a minute.
The road you haven't ridden in years that instantly reminds you why you fell in love with motorcycling in the first place.
Eventually, it was time to head south.
The final challenge of the day was waiting for us at the Queensferry Crossing, where traffic was backed up for what felt like miles. Sitting in a queue is something we all know only too well from our day jobs, but this time we had another option.
Filtering carefully and respectfully through stationary traffic, the queue seemed to part almost like the Red Sea. Drivers made space where they could, each one getting a grateful nod as we passed.
Courtesy costs nothing, whether you're driving a bus or riding a motorcycle.
As we rolled home, I couldn't help smiling.
We'd all spent the week moving other people around Scotland to somebody else's timetable. Today there had been no schedules, no ticket machines, no radio messages from Control and nobody asking, "Does this bus go to...?"
Just a group of bus drivers enjoying the freedom of two wheels, some of the finest roads Scotland has to offer and the sort of banter that only comes from people who spend their working lives sharing the same job.
The destination was Braemar.
The real journey was everything that happened along the way.
Here's to the next day out with the lads.
I'll just make sure I turn up at the right McDonald's.
___
Meta Description: A group of bus drivers swap double-deckers for motorcycles on an unforgettable ride through the Scottish Highlands, packed with banter, breathtaking roads and adventure.
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