March – when the dripping begins and the throttle hand starts to itch.

One morning, we suddenly hear it. At first tentative, almost cautious, as though winter itself is not entirely sure whether it should loosen its grip just yet. But the drip from the roof is there. And that is enough.

For those of us waiting for roads, spring and the sound of engines, it is a clear sign of what is drawing near.

The sun has begun to warm in earnest now. Not all day, not every day, but enough to be felt. Instinctively, we seek out a sheltered wall, take that first cup of coffee outside and let our backs absorb the warmth. Simply stepping into that feeling sends a shiver through you. That is when the mind starts to wander towards dry ribbons of tarmac, swept gravel and the bike standing there, waiting.

March is the month when longing finds direction. We begin to picture the first rides. Perhaps short, perhaps tentative, but ours. A spin to hear the engine, to feel how the body remembers, how balance and calm return almost of their own accord.

There is still winter around the edges, yet in the midst of it all, hope is dripping steadily. March reminds us that the riding season is not far off now. It is on its way. And every drop from the roof, every shaft of sunlight against a wall and every sheltered cup of coffee points in the same direction: soon we ride again.