My shift started quietly – almost too quietly.

As the second rider on a 1pm-7pm shift, my role is to be on call and pick up the ad-hoc jobs that come in, while the first rider covers the scheduled runs.

The shift begins with collecting the bike. It’s a structured process involving clear communication with the controller, along with a series of pre-ride checks to make sure the bike and equipment are safe and ready for the shift ahead. These checks are logged on an app, and any issues are reported to the bike managers.

Once everything was in order, I headed back home with the bike. For the first couple of hours of my shift, nothing came through – it was simply a case of waiting, and being ready to respond.

Then a relay job came in around 3:30pm.

For those unfamiliar, a relay involves meeting a Blood Bike rider from another region to help move a medical package closer to its final destination. On this occasion, I was heading to meet a rider travelling down from Manchester. I had enough time to make my way up the motorway to Knutsford Services, enjoying what was a surprisingly warm and sunny afternoon.

After parking up, I took off my jacket to cool down and settled in to wait. A message came through from the Manchester controller advising of a delay, so I made the most of the sunshine. One thing that always stands out at service stations is the number of people who take a moment to say hello or thank you.

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By the time the Manchester rider arrived, it was already past 5pm. We exchanged brief pleasantries, confirmed handover details with our respective controllers, and I set off with the package towards Birmingham.

By now, the Friday afternoon traffic had built up. The roads were busy with people heading home, likely thinking about the start of their weekend. It often crosses my mind what everyone else is heading towards – family, friends, a quiet evening, or something more lively. From the outside, I am just another vehicle in the flow. The key difference is what I am carrying, and the potential importance it holds for someone’s health. That responsibility is always at the forefront of my mind.

With traffic building further, filtering became necessary. It is not always the most comfortable part of riding, but it is often the most practical way to make progress safely and efficiently when traffic is at a standstill or just crawling along. Lane closures added further pressure, compressing traffic and increasing the need for focus.

There are a few recurring challenges on almost every shift. Middle-lane driving continues to disrupt traffic flow, forcing others into unnecessary manoeuvres. Then there is mobile phone use. It is particularly noticeable at junctions and traffic lights, but more concerning are those using their phones while driving at speedy. The signs are subtle but clear – brief glances downward, delayed reactions. At motorway speeds, even a moment of distraction can have serious consequences.

As a rider, you learn to recognise these behaviours. As a Blood Biker, that awareness becomes even sharper. You are constantly observing, anticipating, and adjusting. It demands concentration, but it is essential to doing the role safely.

Eventually, I reached the hospital site in Birmingham. Finding the site itself was straightforward. Finding the correct building was not.

The hospital was undergoing significant redevelopment, with roads rerouted and parts of the site closed or demolished altogether. The sat nav was of little help. Hospitals are often large and complex, more like small towns than single buildings, and this one was no exception.

With no obvious reception or security point available, I stopped a few members of staff for directions. Unfortunately, I was sent in the wrong direction more than once. After a fair amount of trial and error, I eventually located the building I needed – only to find it now closed for the weekend.

There was a note on the door, albeit partially worn and difficult to read, explaining that deliveries can be redirected to another hospital a few miles away.

At this stage, I was already beyond my scheduled finish time. The original controllers had finished their shifts, and I was now in contact with a new controller. My phone battery was running low, so I made a quick call to explain the situation. The controller was extremely helpful and quickly provided the correct postcode for the alternative location.

Back on the bike, I made my way through Birmingham’s busy city traffic towards the new destination. The final drop-off point was a sample collection box within an Accident and Emergency department. The waiting area was full, with people dealing with a wide range of situations. Despite that, there was still a sense of kindness – people made space, offered smiles, and acknowledged my presence.

Wearing Blood Bike kit often brings a sense of connection with the public. People recognise the role and respond with genuine warmth.

I confirmed the drop-off details with reception, ensured the correct team would collect the package, and completed the delivery.

That package would soon move on to its next stage – most likely testing or analysis, judging by the department listed on the label. Beyond that, we are not given any further details, nor do we need them to carry out our role. We do not know who a sample belongs to, and everything is securely packaged within outer containers to maintain privacy, safety, and proper handling during transport.

We are, of course, informed if we are carrying items such as blood, plasma, or platelets. All riders are trained in appropriate handling procedures in the unlikely event of an incident or spillage.

What matters most is that, regardless of the type of package, every delivery represents a collective effort. Behind each one is a network of volunteer riders, controllers, support teams, fundraisers, organisers, and donors – people giving their time, and often their own resources, to make these vital services possible.

So, where was I? With the package delivered, I took the chance to pause for a short break. A quick sandwich and some water made a real difference before setting off on the return journey.

Like anyone driving or riding in a professional capacity, taking breaks is essential to keep fatigue to a minimum. That said, it’s just as important for everyday road users. If you start to feel tired, even a brief stop to rest and reset can make a noticeable difference. From experience, it’s well worth it.

It was now getting dark. The temperature had dropped noticeably, and the roads were still busy. I made my way out of the city and back onto the motorway network, joining the M6, one of Europe’s busiest motorways.

Driving conditions changed again with the fading light. One common issue at this time is drivers travelling without their lights on. As I passed, I tried to signal to them where possible. Some understood and responded quickly, others less so. Either way, it is always intended as a helpful gesture.

Traffic remained heavy, with further delays caused by more breakdowns and lane restrictions.

As I finally approached my exit on the motorway, I started thinking about getting home. However, there was still work to do. Even after finishing the riding element of my shift, we need to refuel, check, clean and secure the bike ready for the next rider.

Once back at base, I completed those final tasks before switching to my own bike. My phone battery was down to one per cent. A quick call home confirmed I was on my way and a final call to my controller to say thanks for the help and I was done.

In total, the shift ran to around nine hours – a little longer than planned.

It was tiring, without question, but also rewarding. I made it back safely and delivered something that could make a real difference.

While there are always challenges on the road, it is important to say that the majority of drivers are considerate and supportive. Those who make space and allow safe passage for Blood Bikers play an important role in helping our deliveries happen.

That support is always noticed and always appreciated.

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