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I’m in Wales, Chepstow to be exact. I’ve driven a few hours here from London, my bike thrown in the boot of a crappy 2003 Vauxhall Corsa, a bumper held on with a cable tie and a rattling engine. Within this crappy rattler there is an air of excitement, and of course trepidation. It is the weekend of the 2015 Bryan Chapman Memorial, an audax that traverses the length of Wales.