The LEAGUE OF DISTINGUISHED GENTLEMEN

We head to Nashville with Triumph and Gibson to do our bit for the Distinguished Gentleman’s Ride...

- DUNCAN QUINN

I was riding a Ducati 955SP the night I walked a handful of people into a movie premiere at the Cannes Film Festival with no invite, no wristband, no list - just a lot of chutzpah and a fantastic black suit. Think a blond version of Neo in The Matrix, only with sidekicks who looked like an aging Nic Cage and perky Page 3 versions of Margot Robbie. On the way home I nearly learned the meaning of life as the speedo indicated the north side of 160 mph and I realised the chicane at Juan-les-Pins was fast approaching. Tires scrubbing the curb on the wrong side of the road I came to a halt on the far side of life, heart pounding, drenched in sweat. The feeling was much like the first time I had my prostate tickled by a young lady at a fancy Upper East Side doctor's office in Manhattan. This was a hell of a lot more fun, though there are parallels to be drawn, as you'll discover shortly.

All of which is why I was in Nashville for the Distinguished Gentleman's Ride. One part petrol, one part fancy dress, and one part charity, this festival of mustaches, gasoline and glory was started in Sydney in 2012 by Mark Hawwa. Inspired by a photo of Don Draper astride a classic bike wearing a bespoke suit, Hawwa decided a annual themed ride would be a great way of connecting niche motorcycle enthusiasts and communities while raising funds to support men's health issues that none of us ever hope to meet in life (thank you, doctor).