Evening Ride by the Cathedral

LensTwist
Nov 4, 2025
2 min read

Just Another Walk in Lincoln

It was one of those evenings when the air feels calm, and the streets around Lincoln Cathedral start to glow in that soft orange light. I didn’t plan anything special — I rarely do. I just had my camera with me, as always. It’s a habit now, walking past the cathedral after work, catching whatever the city decides to show me that night.

A Glimpse of Chrome

I was halfway down the cobbled street when something white caught my eye. A Harley. Parked neatly beside the old stone wall, shining like it had just rolled out of a movie scene. The mix between the medieval walls and that perfectly polished machine… it stopped me in my tracks.

The Conversation

A man stood nearby, leaning casually on the railing. I asked if it was his.

He nodded, smiled — that quiet, proud kind of smile only a biker has.

So I said, “Mind if I take a few shots of your bike?”

He shrugged, “Go ahead, mate.”

I told him I’d send the photos to him for free, no charge. He just laughed and said he didn’t want them.

“Keep them, mate. You took them. They’re yours.”

Moments of Stillness

And there it was — a short exchange, a simple human moment. No rush, no posing, no pressure. Just a Harley resting under the cathedral’s shadow and a photographer trying to capture the silence before the night took over.

The details pulled me in — the curve of the tank, the reflection of the sky in the chrome, the old stones in the background, the mix of history and horsepower. It’s that contrast that always makes me stop.

The Shot That Stuck

Sometimes, photography isn’t about the perfect composition. It’s about the small coincidences — being there, at that exact minute, when light hits metal in a way that feels almost alive.

I took a few steps around the bike, changed angles, crouched down — just letting instinct take over. The world went quiet, and it was just me, the lens, and the hum of the city fading behind me.

He Rode Off — I Stayed

When I finished, I thanked him again. He nodded, started the engine, and that Harley growled to life — deep and smooth. Within seconds, he was gone, leaving behind nothing but the echo of that sound and a faint smell of fuel in the cool air.

I stayed a bit longer, looking at the spot where the bike had been. Lincoln Cathedral stood behind me, timeless and silent. For a moment, the whole scene felt like it belonged in a film.