The other petrolhead in the family

My C.E.O has always been a terrific pillion passenger.  Would hardly know Jennie was there, apart from the fact that she also acted as a human Speed Governor with a whack on the helmet or prod in the ribs if I was getting a bit enthusiastic for her liking. A rather public bollocking out the front of a biker cafe/pub for excessive speed a few minutes earlier with a couple of dozen riders and their significant others laughing their heads off  will remain burned into my memory forever.  Be that as it may, there's still no-one I'd sooner have on the back - absolutely unflappable and almost telepathically connected to what I'm going to do.

With our old BMW K100RS

With the Blackbird on a charity toy run

Jennie's prowess isn't just limited to pillioning though, oh dearie me no!  A few years ago, we spent nearly a month touring NZ's south island by car.  We were staying in Queenstown, NZ's adventure capital and I saw an advertisement for going on a quad bike ride into the mountains.  Jennie wasn't at all keen but after some pouting and generally childish sulking on my part, she reluctantly agreed to come along.  I'd assumed that they would be docile farm quads but when we arrived at the base camp, they turned out to be Polaris 2 stroke screamers with a pretty narrow power band - oh hell!  Cowardice prevailed and I kept my mouth shut.  The guide / instructor was superb and gave us both a bit of practice on undemanding terrain first with Jennie taking to it like a duck to water.  Going into the mountains proper she absolutely lapped it up and on one scary downhill section littered with boulders, she was sticking with the instructor and pulling away from me like there was no tomorrow; a perfect example of where your mental limits are set - what a girl!!!

The Remarkables mountain range - NZ south island

When the last of our kids left for university, meaning that Jennie didn't have to drive them to sport or anywhere else; she decided that the boring old Mazda saloon she owned was cramping her style and it was time to get out and have fun.  Fun came in the shape of a Mk 1 Mazda MX5 in British Racing Green, tan leather upholstery and Panasport lightweight mag wheels.  I was impressed with just how much fun they were to drive.  Cornered like it was on rails and perfect for the twisty roads of NZ.   You didn't need to go super fast to have a lot of fun either.  Jennie loved that car and drove it well too.

Jennie's Mk 1 MX 5 outside the Warbirds airfield

NZ's north island East Cape region
Active island volcano on the horizon

Unfortunately for Jennie, a hip problem was limiting her pillion riding to relatively short journeys on the Blackbird and my solo riding increased.  It didn't dampen Jennie's enthusiasm for driving though and a short while before our retirement to the beach, the question of a later model MX5 was raised as the current one had accumulated a decent mileage.  

We knew a reputable local car dealer who sourced low mileage performance cars direct from Japan and asked him to keep an eye out for one on his trips to Japan.  After one or two false starts, we got a call from Tokyo.  He said he'd found the perfect car which was going to auction that very day.  He'd email photos and some details and did we want him to bid for it?  After seeing the photos and specifications, Jennie took about a nanosecond to decide that she wanted it whatever the price.  And she calls me impulsive on occasions!  The dealer won the auction, Jennie was over the moon and surprisingly, we didn't quite have to sell our first-born to pay for it.  This is her baby in rare metallic merlot paint:

MazdaSpeed-prepared Mk2 MX5

It came kitted with a whole raft of MazdaSpeed performance engine and suspension parts and with only 21,000 km on the clock, it was/is absolutely mint.  The cream leather interior and Bose stereo topped it off nicely.  It goes like a cut cat and the exhaust note is absolute music to the ears!  As per Jennie's first MX 5, she doesn't pussyfoot about in it either!  The eagle-eyed might have noticed the same numberplate on the second photo of the Mk 1 and on the Mk2. In NZ, it's relatively easy to get personal plates and transfer them to new cars.  The plate was a birthday present from me.  Jennie is a keen family historian (genealogist) and the small print at the top of the plate says, "It's all in" and the big letters say "DGENES". Ok????

One happy lady - the secret to staying forever young!

The additional good news is that with Jennie's hip problem now resolved, she can resume being the passenger in a million.  However, she's made it clear that Hell Will Freeze Over before she scrunches up on the back of the Street Triple but she's quite enthusiastic about a cruiser or a trike.  As I'm not ready for either, it'll have to be travelling together in the Mazda for a wee while yet, haha!  Oh yeah, and I'm occasionally allowed to drive it provided I keep it clean and serviced.  Generous of her, isn't it?

Night riding - love it or loathe it?

Nightfall, just setting off for a 200 km autumn ride

There have been some superb blog posts recently coming out of Canada and the USA about riding in adverse conditions and their "character building" nature.  Therefore, I thought I'd continue the general theme with some random musings for consideration about  Kiwi night riding experiences.

Night riding is something you don't see much written about in motorcycling magazines, either from the viewpoint of the effectiveness of headlights on various makes of bike or even tips on how you ride safely at a reasonable pace.  This leads me to wonder whether motorcycling is largely regarded as a daytime activity by most manufacturers, the motorcycling press and even a decent percentage of riders.  In the latter case, it's probably something that many people don't do a lot of by choice.

Let's start with a definition of night riding. I'm not talking about riding through town with reasonably high levels of street, office and shop illumination, nor the reduced levels of lighting out in the suburbs.  What I'm referring to is being out in the blackness of the countryside with no lighting at all on two lane twisty roads rather than busy major arterial routes.  If you don't ride a lot in these conditions (and with a few exceptions, I don't), it can be fairly daunting; especially as in rural NZ, wildlife ranging from little furry things, larger woolly things and even through to big horny things all want to share the road with you on the odd occasion after dark!

Despite all the apparent risks, night riding is an incredible means of making you more complete as a rider.  Done properly, it sharpens your situational awareness skills and smooth riding techniques immeasurably which pays off in spades for normal daytime riding too.

How good or poor your lights are clearly has a bearing on both enjoyment and the opposite end of the scale too - the dreaded  "pucker factor"!  Your own skills and mindset are the other critical ingredients.  From a personal perspective, one of the few times I do what might be described as serious night riding is on organised endurance events which start off in daylight, run all through the night and finish sometime the next day.  This is at the extreme end of going out for a night ride but the techniques are really no different from heading off for a shorter run.  When you're comfortable with night riding, there's something very special about travelling in a little bubble of light, eating up the miles.

Lit up like the bridge of the Starship Enterprise

In terms of enjoyable night riding experiences, two come to mind; one riding solo and another with a group of other riders.  Hopefully, the reasons for them being enjoyable will become apparent.  The first was pre-retirement when I used to frequently commute 200 km from home on a Friday evening after work to our beach house that we now live in permanently.  The roads were one lane in each direction with a few straights but mostly sweepers and twisties.  The road was well known so that removed any mental apprehension about what to expect.  The journey itself was also of sufficient length that it was possible to start at twilight and "dial" into the ride and relax -  an important consideration.  The relaxed mental attitude was critical for concentration and heightened situational awareness which included a decent focus on chasing the "vanishing point" for correct corner positioning and entry/exit speeds.  Riding in the dark, you are also able to see small objects in the road, loose road metal etc. much easier than in daylight as the headlights cast shadows off even small items.  Travelling in the relatively small cocoon of light cast by the headlight seemed to remove extraneous distractions and focusing on the task at hand felt almost automated.  In fact, the fastest commute to the beach was done entirely in the dark.  I wasn't hitting the highest momentary speeds of a normal daylight run, yet through what I'd like to think was a smoother ride overall, a minute or two was shaved off the elapsed time, despite traffic densities being comparable.

The second example was on a 1000 miles (1600km) in 24 hours endurance ride in 2003. There were 4 of us riding together, with a high degree of trust in each other's abilities.  That takes a lot of stress out of any ride for starters, particularly in terms of having company if any problems are encountered.  Having already covered about 900km and well in the groove at somewhere past midnight, we found ourselves in volcano country in the central north island at an altitude of close to 3000 ft.  It was a clear night and the starlight alone was sufficient to brightly illuminate the snow on the upper reaches of the volcanoes.  Just 4 bikes and nothing else on the road with the sky and snow ablaze with light. As close to a mystical experience as one is likely to get without the ingestion of chemical supplements.  Again, being in the groove and the ability to relax with trusted friends in close proximity made good riding habits completely subconscious, allowing time to thoroughly appreciate the surroundings. "Zen-state" riding at its best!

Our first ever 1000 miles in 24 hours ride, early a.m, 1996.  Yellow blob in corner is a mate cat-napping (or possibly unconscious)!

One of the least enjoyable night rides was on an early 1000 miler where we were a long way from home in unfamiliar territory.  The road was narrow, no centre markings and there were continuous bends but it had plenty of grip. We were warm, there was no great risk yet I was rigid with tension which was causing fatigue; my thought processes had appreciably slowed up and I was riding with poor anticipation (gun-shy is a better description).  In hindsight, I'd almost certainly let myself get overwhelmed with apprehension about the narrow, twisty road we were travelling on rather than relaxing and simply sticking to the basics of riding smoothly.  In any event, it was all to do with my mental approach on that part of the ride rather than the conditions themselves.  I'd simply talked myself into not enjoying it.  Not that it applies in the case of "normal" night riding but I've noticed that on endurance rides at around 2-4 a.m, I don't really get tired, but I do get quite anxious and wonder whether the body clock trying to shut down releases chemicals that cause anxiety when you are forced to remain awake.  Maybe a physiologist would know.

So in trying to summarise personal thoughts about the skill sets for good night riding, it seems to be no different for those required in daylight riding BUT needs to be applied with a little more concentration than maybe we tend to in the day.  Heightened situational awareness, scanning all around and out to the limits of the headlight, attention to the vanishing point on corners and relaxing are just some of  the things which make a huge difference to enjoyment and safety. Relaxing is probably an easier proposition on a longer ride or if you set off in daylight so there is time to gradually adjust or dial in to the conditions. The other thing which undoubtedly aids the mental state is being adequately dressed in terms of warmth.

Unsurprisingly, the biggest bar to enjoying a night ride is a poor headlight.  What is surprising, however; is just how poor the standard headlights are on some modern bikes, particularly those with sporting pretensions.  Perhaps the manufacturers don't expect them to be ridden very far in complete dark.  My old BMW K100RS with its large oblong headlight (photo above) wasn't bad but was improved immeasurably by fitting a relay and a 100w halogen bulb.  The same modification was performed on the Blackbird and whilst it was fantastic on straights and sweepers, the physical shape of the headlight gave a sharp sideways cut-off which was quite unsettling when leaned well over in pitch blackness on tight corners.  Form over function by the designers methinks and probably a common occurrence on a lot of modern bikes.

The Street Triple twin round headlights give an excellent spread of light, but intensity in standard form is barely adequate.  They are also set too low during assembly. The relatively small volume of the lamp housings makes fitting higher temperature/wattage bulbs (i.e 100w) a possibly risky proposition.  As an intermediate step, the standard bulbs have been replaced with Osram Nightbreaker bulbs of the same wattage and what a difference!  The illumination is SIGNIFICANTLY better - why oh why can't the manufacturer fit better quality bulbs as standard?  The photo below shows the difference between the standard bulb and the Nightbreaker in daylight.  In the dark, it's even more pronounced.  The standard bulb on the left  is quite soft and yellow.  The Nightbreaker on the right is much whiter and more intense.

Standard bulb left, Nightbreaker right

As an aside, I tried 100w blue-white xenon bulbs on the Blackbird.  They didn't seem to illuminate greenery at the roadside as well as the 100w halogens.  Where they did score appreciably however was in daylight.  It was really noticeable how much earlier car drivers detected your presence and moved over if you were closing on them from behind.  That has to be a significant safety consideration given that most collisions or near-misses occur as a result of the "I didn't see you mate" excuse of cage drivers.

Fitting HID lights is another option but as I only do seriously long night rides about once a year, the upgrade to Nightbreakers is probably sufficient for now (we hope).

Actually, I'm not entirely sure what the purpose of this post has been, other than to ramble on more than a bit to help clarify in my own mind why I should get out more for decent length night rides in a range of different weather conditions, particularly in preparation for the big ride in October.  There's little doubt as already mentioned that  it sharpens your awareness, road positioning and makes you ride smoothly.  That's got to be a good thing, hasn't it?  Hope it all makes sense.

Model motorcycles - never again!

And now for something completely different..... (With a nod to Monty Python)

Hadn't done any model-making since my teens but about 15 years ago, the kids bought me a Tamiya Ducati 900ss plastic kit for Father's Day.  Just the thing for a winters' night so went out and bought some brushes, paints and cement.  Now, if anything is going to show up eyesight problems as the years go by, it's plastic models with a million microscopic parts. Dexterity was also an issue and it felt like bunches of bananas were attached to my wrists rather than fingers.  Whilst the challenge of putting the Ducati together was quite enjoyable, concentration span was an issue so a limit of one hour per occasion was about right to avoid loss of temper.  Being a pedantic engineer, the exhaust pipes were given a bit of colour too.  Here's the result (click to enlarge):

Whilst the outcome was reasonably pleasing, there was no intention to do any more model construction but as is the way of things, in 2001, fate stepped in.  Back then, I owned a BMW K100RS but had just bought a Honda Blackbird.  A workmate was wanting to get back into bikes and made an offer for the Beemer which was duly accepted.  When he came round to pick it up, bless his good heart; he gave me a Tamiya K100 kit to keep the memory alive! It was a naked K100, not the faired RS as there was no RS kit available but it was a lovely, generous gesture so building started again.  This is how it ended up:

Getting eye strain at the dining room table for nights on end was hard going and there was no intention of building another model in the foreseeable future.  However, eating my own words seems to be a speciality and when a Tamiya model Blackbird caught my eye, how could it be resisted?

The temptation to be pedantic again reared its head as the kit was an early carburetted Blackbird and mine (the real one, that is) was injected. Now, train-spotters, obsessive-compulsives and other anoraks (an English term for sad bastards like me who need to get a life) will recognise the dilemma.  The ram air intakes in the fairing of the kit had mesh in them and the injected real bike had vertical bars.  Consequently, I started rummaging through boxes of bits in the workshop to see if there was anything which could be adapted to make it look like an injected version.  Here's where a slight miscalculation was made by mentioning to Jennie what I was up to.  Her reply was laced with words that I hadn't heard her use before so it was a fair pointer that some sort of invisible line had been crossed.  Oops, mesh grilles they'd stay, and there was no way that I was going to add fuel to the fire by mentioning that  there was a small difference in the tail light between the earlier and later models which was originally going to be addressed too!!!

Although plans to build an exact replica of my bike were now clearly in tatters, there was nothing to stop a paint job to match it, so some Tamiya translucent blue was procured, along with silver metallic base coat.  Buying an airbrush for just one model would have seen me sucking hospital food through a straw so the plan was to apply multiple coats (7 from memory) of highly thinned blue over the silver base.  It worked out pretty well too as you'll see from the pictures below.  Oh, and I did adorn it with my own numberplate as a silent act of geeky defiance!  Construction and painting was such a difficult process that it nearly got hurled against the wall on several occasions and there's little likelihood of another one being built - EVER! Even the rear shock and chain got painted - really obsessive!  We still have all 3 models but they remain packed in one of the many boxes that haven't been opened since we moved home a couple of years ago and there are absolutely no plans to add a Street Triple to them!

A sucker for punishment....

After 3 years of enjoying BMW ownership, some mates and I saw an article in a New Zealand bike mag about one of their staff having taken part in something called the Rusty Nuts Grand Challenge 1000 miles (1600km) in under 24 hours ride. It's an annual event which starts and finishes at the same place but the organisers vary the route. The other thing they do to make it real fun is set most of the course on narrow, twisty back roads miles from anywhere which is quite daunting, especially during the night. The author just missed the 24 hour cutoff and was hallucinating with pain during the latter part of the ride. It was obviously one heck of a challenge so we sent in entries for the 1996 event whilst clearly in a deranged state of mind.

The weather was shocking with horizontal rain and gales for much of the ride, it was scary and we were in an awful lot of pain at the finish and for some days afterwards. However, the feeling of finishing within the 24 hours was indescribable and we had every right to feel proud. Whilst the physical challenge was bad enough, the battle with one's own mind not to give up was equally strong. Everyone swore that they'd never do another one but in this comfortable and largely predictable age, challenging oneself becomes addictive. Two more Grand Challenges were undertaken on the Beemer in 1997 and 1999, one of them being completed in 18 and a bit hours. However, because the weather and route plays such an important part, all everyone can hope for is finishing safely within 24 hours.

 2am, still 700 km from the finish and apprehensive....

Are we getting a bit old for this, chaps?

Ride reports:1996 Grand Challenge 1000 miles in 24 hours , 1997 Grand Challenge, 1999 Grand Challenge

It was whilst owning the BMW and becoming accustomed to riding reasonably fast that I did my one and only runner from the law. The exact circumstances are better left undocumented but I got away with it, having scared myself witless in the process; shaking so badly when finally stopping that it was difficult to hold the bike upright. A salutatory experience and never to be repeated.

A confession to Jennie (in case my number plate had been more visible than first thought) brought forth a bollocking of truly biblical magnitude. This was followed up by another one from our daughter who takes after her mother. I'd like to think that our two sons were secretly chuffed although nothing was said because they know full well who rules the household.

Getting the family in on it....

Our eldest son Lyndon was keen to learn to ride and had permission from his mother and a couple of off-roaders were purchased so that he could learn some handling skills in relative safety. A Suzuki TS100 was a perfect learning machine for him. The Yamaha IT 175 most certainly wasn't for me, with the bastard trying to kill me on every outing. The narrow power band was completely unsuitable for slower speed work in the forests around Tokoroa and muddy facials and large bruises were a common occurrence. "Mature" bodies definitely don't bounce as well as younger ones and my off-roading career didn't last all that long.

Lyndon with the Suzuki X7 and my K100RS

We managed to find a Suzuki X7 250cc 6 speed "screamer" in good condition for Lyndon to ride on the road and whilst it was well-mannered for normal riding, it could fair fly when thrashed further up the rev range. When Lyndon departed for university, the Suzook got a fair hiding at my hands round the Waikato back roads. Nothing quite like a 2 stroke for behaving badly on!

The GB 400 provided a happy partnership for a number of years but it was underpowered for 2-up riding and the road in Auckland that I bought the GB from entered the story again in 1993! A perusal of the bike shops in that road revealed a nice BMW K100RS complete with panniers. I wasn't contemplating getting anything this big but the price was right and it was in lovely condition. Learning to ride a big, heavy fast bike was quite a mission and it took about a year to push it along at speed with complete confidence. Countersteering was an absolute necessity with the old girl.  I was beginning to learn that big bikes requires large amounts of respect!