Tweed Run 2017 is my three-peat. Attending for the third year in a row, I was going solo this time around. But there were plenty of familiar faces that only added to this nostalgic event.
Hundreds of people clad in tweed swarmed to a familiar honey pot at Clerkenwell. This years event seemed bigger and more grand in every sense. Sublime vintage style and sweet rides made this a treasure cove for the dozens of photographers who mingled with the crowd.
We set off with the traditional mass percussion of ringing bells. The group sloshed through the streets of London on a route that seemed quite similar to the one last year. With my bladder saturated with several cups of coffee, I was looking forward to our next stop. We migrated to Saint Pancras Gardens for our tea break. After a short trek back on the road, we settled outside the stunning Imperial War Museum for lunch.
They grey clouds parted in the afternoon, revealing the sun on this perfect temperate day. I attribute this to the celestial karma spun by tweed run. How could I dismiss this? Especially when droves of tourists and locals alike are brought to a stand still, beaming with smiles and snapping pictures.
The stop-and-go ride appeared moderately taxing for some near the end. But the relentless enthusiasm of the Marshals guiding us through the streets of London made it all worthwhile. It wasn’t until the closing ceremonies at Spa Fields did I then realize their numbers and the preparation required for the event. Besides being among the best dressed, the Marshals were the heroes of the day.
With a drink in hand, I reminisced about the moment I stopped on Westminster bridge to take some shots. Someone had asked me, “what the point of all this?” I jested that we are protesting high cider prices. I did have to pause for a moment to give a more formal answer. “It’s Tweed Run! We dress up, bike around and have fun.”