And So Say All Of Us

I have been having some email chit-chat with commenter Bazza, and he has a sig line which I though worth posting here (with his permission). It's Simon Hargreaves, the Bike journalist:

Motorcycles mean much more to us than cold, manufactured arrangements of metal and plastic should. We're powerfully, irrationally, emotionally bound to our motorcycles, partly because thay're an expression of who we are - they identify us - and partly because we put our lives in their hands, literally. We trust them to get us home in one piece, late at night, after a hard day's ride. Or when when we are far, far away alone, in a foreign land. Are there any among us who don't pat the tank in silent prayer of thanks when we stop?

Yup.

Bearing Up

I saw the doctor on Wednesday, and she signed me off work for a week. I am no longer ill (i.e. I feel pretty much OK), but I need to rest my leg and keep it elevated so that the antibiotics can get to work on clearing out the nasty things that have caused the infection. So, naturally, I have been working on the bike. (Seriously, I am fairly immobile. I can be up and about for half an hour or so, but then I need to rest again or the leg starts to throb and swell like something in a science fiction movie. But in the periods when I can get about, where better to do it than in the garage?)

I've been getting a bit panicky about the Sprint being out of commission. I have booked in for the Ride of Respect next month, and I was having visions of having to do it on the XT, which would have been less than ideal -and take twice as long.

Regular readers who have the slightest interest will remember that the steering bearings had become very rough and notchy, leading to a slightly embarrassing tumble at work and some entirely preventable cosmetic damage to the bike. When I got the headstock dismantled, this was what I found:



No wonder it wasn't keen on corners!

Yesterday and today I spent working on it intermittently. I had to cut the old bearings off. They are an interference fit and were very reluctant to leave the party. To get the new ones on, I had to leave the stem in the freezer overnight and heat the bottom race up in the oven beforehand. With all that done, and a few mighty blows of a hammer and chisel, the new ones went on without too much drama. And don't they look better?



I then drained half a litre of 12-year-old brown sludge out of each fork leg and replaced it with nice fresh 10W oil and put it all back together. While all the plastics were off, I took the opportunity to fit some better headlight bulbs. The Sprint's headlights are shockingly bad, and I am hoping that these Osram Nightbreakers will improve matters. HID lights seem to the technical fix du jour, but I am not keen to go down that route until I have exhausted all the other (i.e. cheaper and less hassle) alternatives.

This morning, the bike looked like this:



BTW, that's the garage after I tidied it up to store the new kitchen units. You didn't want to see it before, honestly. Note the sophisticated jacking arrangement to keep the front end off the floor.

Tonight, it is back on its wheels, plastics fitted, and ready to go. A light drizzle and failing light meant that I wasn't too keen to test-ride it today, but if the weather holds I will take it for a few milkes tomorrow to see how it is shaping up. But even pushing it along the driveway I can feel that the steering is totally different; light and smooth as opposed to chunky and recalcitrant.

A shakedown ride, and then I will commute on it for a few days just to bond with it again. I'm looking forward to it. Assuming I can bend my leg.

A Bike A Day

Helps You Work, Rest and Play.

Here's a challenge thrown out by Trobairitz:

If you had unlimited funds and could have one bike for every day of the week, what bikes would you choose?

OK, after some thought (about ten seconds' worth), here is my selection.

1. Yamaha XT600E



All-purpose commuter/trailie. Old enough to be easily fixed on the driveway, and also old enough not to grieve the owner if it's dropped or (God forbid) stolen. 55 mpg and will keep going through anything. A post-holocaust bike. Also cheap. Of the seven, this is the one that would get ridden every day.

2. Triumph Sprint ST 955i



Yes, my other bike, which only goes to show that I am happy with my choices. So far. Comfortable for long rides, handles well enough, can take pillions and luggage. 150 mph performance is substantially in excess of anything I would ever use, but that's a comforting thought in itself. But best of all, that triple motor - torque in massive gobs from idle to redline, and that howl when it gets on the cam ...

3. Harley-Davidson 1200 Sportster



For sunny days when I don't need to be anywhere in a hurry. I've never really 'got' the cruiser thing, but it would be a shame not to dip a toe in. I'd have the standard model with the centre controls, though - my back wouldn't stand the feet-forward position of the Custom, and I don't get that whole splayed-out thing.

4. Yamaha XT660Z Tenere



The modern version of (1), with a bulletproof 660 water-cooled single motor and a small screen. This is for 'adventure touring', by which I mean anything off the beaten track. These bikes have circled the world and been up the Himalayas, and seem to be, if anything, tougher than the 600 they replaced. I had the 660R briefly (the trailbike version) and the motor is just about enough. Fit it with huge panniers and strap a tent on the back, and off you go.

5. Moto Guzzi T3



A big, lazy 850 from the 70s, here to indulge my love of Italian bikes and retro at the same time. Not fast, but lazy and long-legged (the Italian nickname is Gambalunga), and an addictive vibe. But not, in any sane world, one's only bike.

6. BSA B30 rigid



My 'classic', and something to fettle when the other bikes are all running well. A true Brit.

7. Suzuki GSXR1000



Insanely fast. Just for the giggles. I would probably sell it after three months and indulge my love of strokers with a Yamaha RD350LC, which would be about as practical and twice the fun, but everyone needs to own a Gixxer at least once. Perhaps.

Ask again in a week's time. I will have changed my mind. Probably.

All pictures nicked shamelessly from the web.

Why Bikes Rock

I'm sending you over to Oscar India's place, where he has an excellent post on why bikes are so great. It's just a ride between shops, but it shows how much better a bike is than a car at dealing with traffic, and how a mundane utility trip can be turned into something life-enhancing.

Watching the clip, and especially the way that the BMW dismisses lines of slower traffic, makes me miss the arrogant power of the Honda (Pan European 1300, sold a year ago) and the way it could chew off and spit out whole lines of trucks and Sunday gawpers. The Bonnie is a great bike, but the performance is much closer to a fast car than a fast bike, and to ride like Oscar does in the clip would mean wringing its neck and taking a few risks on the way. I suppose this is why people end up with whole sheds full of bikes: none is perfect for every occasion or mood, so why not have several?

Go for a ride ...

Happy Birthday, Driving Licence

I'm not sure of the exact date (it might have been the 23rd), but it was in February 1971 that I passed my driving test. I passed my bike test the following year. So I have now been driving (legally) for 40 years.

Bloody hell.

In that time, I reckon I have driven about 650,000 miles on four wheels, and about 150,000 on two wheels. The difference is down to the usual reasons - newly married and only able to run one vehicle, young children ditto - and a ten-year gap when illness prevented me from riding at all. But if you add it all up, it's almost to the Moon and back, twice. Or 32 times round the world.

In that time, I have owned 20 cars, from a Citroen 2CV to a 4.6 V8 Range Rover, and 17 bikes, from a wrecked Triumph Tina scooter that I ran in the fields at age 15 to a Honda Pan European ST1300. The worst car I ever drove was a Moskvitch (it wasn't mine, just a loaner while one of mine was in for service), which was truly horrible. There have been no bad bikes. Even the Jawa 350 that I owned in the early 70s was fun at times, and I don't regret having it, although it did perform the greatest service to me by making everything since feel like a luxury.

I've had a few minor swaps of paint, but only one serious accident, when a car turned across my path on a dual carriageway and we met head-on. Luckily it was wet and wintry and I wasn't going fast. My passenger had whiplash which has troubled her all her life since then, whereas I walked away with nothing more than a permanent twitch of the braking muscles whenever I see a car waiting on a central reservation. The 2CV was repaired and back on the road in a week. The Triumph Dolomite that wandered into its path was a write-off.

I've had a few close calls on the bike, but have only fallen off three times, each time due to my own over-enthusiasm and lack of self-restraint. I like to think each one was a learning experience that I will not repeat. I hope I am right. Scrapes and bruises, but no broken bones or worse. Have I been lucky, or just careful? Who knows.

My Dad always enjoyed driving, and he was happy for me to learn because he knew I would enjoy it too. Neither he nor my Mum were very keen on motorbikes, but to their credit they never stopped me once I was 18, and never made me feel guilty or wrong about what I did. (They did utterly forbid me from having a bike when I was 16 and was hankering after a black Honda CB72 which a mate was selling. I moaned at the time, but looking back it was absolutely the right thing to do. I had no sense at all.)

So, 40 years and the best part of a million miles. A few moments of anger and stress. A few hours of boredom in traffic jams. But in all, hugely life-enhancing. I dread to think of the cost of it all, if you put it together into one sum, but mobility has let me do things that previous generations could only dream of: find work that suited me, even though it wasn't within walking distance of my home; meet people and do things on a whim that would have been impossible without personal transport; just go out and drive or ride because I wanted to.

I'm often rude about cars in this blog, but in all honesty I still get a kick out of driving and would set off on a thousand-mile journey at the drop of a hat, with the same sense of adventure I had when I was 17 (but with a much better chance of getting there in one piece). Bikes, though, are something else. I can never swing a leg over a two-wheeler without a faint memory of that first thrilling ride on a mate's Lambretta when I was about 14, wobbling helmetless down the road trying to juggle clutch and brakes, and wondering why my cigarette had torched down to the filter in half a mile, while the paper was still intact.

Happy days, all of them.

Yamahaha

Just to report: I have gone back to bike commuting after spending this last couple of weeks of Global Warming in the car. The Triumph is in the garage, oiled up like a mud-wrestler and silent. Meanwhile, the scabby old Yamaha is doing the business, and getting me to work in record time. I am fond of that bike.



Rain and wind, rather than snow and ice. That'll do me.

Motivational Poster

Over at Sonja's place, a marvellous graphic. It's for the Vancouver Motorcycle Show later this month.

Of Sagas and Hard Seats

I was reminded recently of a character who I now believe, with some regret, to be fictional - a minor character in an Icelandic saga, and the leader of many long and arduous sea-journeys to the New World, one Harald Hardarss. I have searched the web for his name, but the only reference I came up with was to a mention in this very blog back in August of 2009. My own words coming back to me. Hmff. I'm sure I didn't imagine it, and the search for the man continues. However he came to mind again the other day ...

The seat of the XT had sustained several splits last year, due to being left out in the sun and the general depredations of daily use. Every time it rained, the water got through the splits and into the seat foam, and every time I rode it after rain, I got wet balls. A new seat cover is about 40 quid, and not affordable at the moment, so a few strips of gaffer tape later, and all was well.



Until last week.

I needed something from town just before Christmas and, with the gridlocked traffic and a reasonably dry day, I decided to bike it. I hadn't ridden the XT for a while, and when I got it fired up and swung a leg over, I was surprised by how tall the bike felt, and how hard the seat was. However, the seat softened during the ride, and became comfy (in the limited sense of 'trail bike comfy'). But my lower regions had never been so cold. Usually, it's my extremities (hands, knees, neck) that get cold first, and my body stays relatively warm, but this time it was the opposite, with a deep, penetrating cold in my lower torso, and everything else toasty.

Then I remembered the rain-soaked seat foam, and the fact of very cold nights, and a temperature that hadn't risen above zero for several weeks. I had been riding, literally, on a block of ice wrapped in thin plastic.

Not recommended. I'm sure a simple vasectomy would have been easier.

Brrrrr ...

I just can't seem to get warm these days.

Ice crystals on the Bonnie ...



... and hoar frost on the Yamaha ...



It's getting to just above freezing in the day, allowing the previous night's frost to thaw slightly, and then freezing hard every night. There's ice crystals everywhere. By early morning, it has been down to -6° regularly, which is almost unheard-of for what is supposed to be a Gulf Stream climate. I have a distinct lack of interest in going outside unless wrapped in many layers of insulation and sealed within a windproof shell. With a hat. And gloves. Transport which blocks out the surrounding environment and replaces it with a warm, wind-free one, especially if there is little possibility of falling off it, is preferred.

Even if I had one of these ...



... I would be taking the bread-and-butter Ford. Really.

I wish all that lovely warmth that Gore and Monbiot keep promising would turn up. I'll be running out of firewood soon.

Dearth of Bike-related Posts

To my biking readers, I apologise for the recent lack of bike-related posts. I have to confess that I haven't done many miles on either bike over the last month. The new job has been one reason. Riding to work on a bike in this weather requires a bit of forward planning - leaving work clothes in work, finding somewhere to hang a set of dripping waterproofs, and so on - and for the first few days, you want to be ready for anything and looking reasonably smart, so I am afraid that I defaulted to using a car for the first week or two. Then I have been doing the Door Supervisor training, which has meant yet another location and a new set of clothing challenges. And then I get back to working, and the worst December weather for decades descends on us.

I like to ride all year, and rain and cold go with the territory. But ice, snow and fog, where skill and judgement take second place to dumb luck, are big disincentives. It was one thing when I was young and had no choice, but these days it would seem perverse to opt for two wheels when a perfectly adequate car (with heater, CD player and - crucially - inherent vertical stability) is available. Unfortunately, my car insurance and MoT have expired, and I haven't yet been able to sort that out, so Anna has been very generous in allowing me to use hers.

I started both bikes yesterday and let them get thoroughly warmed up. The Triumph started first time and idled regularly, as if it were a summer's day. The Yam was a bit more reluctant. It started with a bit of patience, but needed nursing along until it got a bit of warmth into the cylinder. I have said before that I think the Bonnie is good enough to be a year-round bike, and I was anticipating retiring the Yam for a bit of TLC, but in these conditions the idea of a rugged, go-anywhere bike that will stand a drop is starting to appeal again. I think I might oil up the Triumph and put it in the garage for a while.

Tonight, the temperature dropped drastically mid-evening and the rain that had been falling all afternoon (I am at work as I write this) instantly turned to black ice. There are reports of cars in ditches and lurid slides on roundabouts from everyone who comes past, so I think resuming the two-wheeled commuting can wait for a day or two. Sometimes, self-preservation wins.

As a winter treat, allow me to present you with this superb image of Aaron Yates at Virginia International Raceway ...

It's like a lesson in physics.

A New Arrival

Guest post from Endemoniada_88, who has a little piece of Good News ...

A New Arrival

No, before anyone gets too excited about champagne and cigars, not a Winston Churchillesque mini-me sort of arrival. Something rather more mineral than animal was installed in secret at Chez Endo, not to be revealed on pain of...well, pain, I suspect. Fortunately, the reporting ban has now been lifted, so the risk of going global (hey, I've seen Rich's reader map!) is somewhat mitigated in favour of my bones remaining intact.

And, possibly, this may make some sense as I no longer have to refer to "the secret thing" and can instead use rather more accurate descriptive terms.

It started a few weeks back, when the weather was a bit nicer and there were hours of daylight. Myself and Mrs E - who, for the sake of argument, we'll call Sue (which is apposite, that being her name) - were whiling away a quiet Sunday. The conversation meandered on to whether I would be going on another continental bike tour next tour (which I sincerely hope will be the case) and suddenly turned sharp left.

"I'd quite like to learn to ride," Sue said.

I've heard similar things before, on other topics. Not all of them have been ideas that lasted out the afternoon. So my first response was one that veered between mild encouragement and mild scepticism, but she brushed that off and expanded on the idea. As a gardener by trade, she has a Land Rover. Nothing especially wrong with that, if one has to have a car, but I tend to agree that it's a cumbersome and costly to run beastie. Space (oh, and cash) preclude her having the sports car she'd like for best, but neither of those would be a particular bar to having a two-wheeler as alternative transport.

Well, fair play: that's not a bad argument, speaking as someone who's used many and varied justifications as to why a new bike would be a very good thing to buy right now. She wanted easy and stylish, something that wouldn't look out of place parked outside a Roman cafe. Obviously, I thought "Vespa" immediately, and only revised my opinion when I saw the asking price of them, both new and old. The scooter idea stuck, though, as did the idea of an automatic - and, of course, learner-legal. I plugged all of that into the eBay motors search and we took a look at the results.

Top of the list (after filtering out all the trade ads) and only about ten miles away was just the sort of thing that demonstrates the power of coincidence. Relisted due to a previous timewaster: a silver Sachs Bee 125 on an 09 plate, one owner from new, low mileage and cheap (well, they're only £1800 brand new...). No harm in taking a look, we figured, so I phoned and arranged to pop over there and then.

The owner proved to be a very pleasant and genuine lady. She and her husband had shared the scooter: he'd now bought an upright motorcycle-shaped motorcycle and she didn't get enough use out of it on her own. We looked it over: Sue liked the style and ergonomics and I liked the general state of repair and the sound of the little four-stroke. Having thought to bring my lid and leaving the wife as deposit, I ran it around the block and found it pretty much as expected. And shortly thereafter, a deal was struck and deposit left.

We picked it up the following evening after exchanging cash for paperwork: Sue drove her car back and I took the Sachs.



It was a little odd to be back on a twist-and-go: the last time was back in the early 80s. Little-wheel handling and a tendency to try and use the clutch despite it actually being a brake kept my mind occupied. On the open road, with a bit of patience and some contortions, I got it up to an indicated 65, although the white van behind seemed to think it was slower than that. From the experienced rider's viewpoint, it ticked very few boxes, to be honest - but as a simple way to get from a lifetime of four wheels on to two, it seemed ideal.

So, "the secret thing" was installed in my (sorry, that's now "our") garage and I was sworn to secrecy. Sue told her sister, inevitably. I told nobody. We spent an evening checking her pillion gear and supplementing with alternatives from my spare stuff. Sue booked herself on a CBT training day on a site a few miles away. To spare all sorts of logistical difficulties, she decided to use one of their supplied bikes. Come the day, she took herself off just before I left for work. At lunchtime, she phoned me to say she wasn't ready to do the road assessment and would be taking advantage of the company's free retake policy instead.

Later, we discussed it and found she hadn't warmed to her original trainer, but had spent some time with one of the other trainers, a lady also called Sue, who had impressed her. Her retake was already booked with the aforementioned Sue. Next problem: simple bike handling and familiarity. I had her go up and down the close a few times, identified a few entirely expected issues - deathgrip on the bars, reluctance to tip into turns and too much hesitation with the throttle. My advice: relax, and give it more gas(!). That weekend, we found a quiet carpark and practised until U-turns were a very real possibility in ordinary-width roads. Final issue: kit. Sue found the gloves she had were too bulky for comfort, and her full-face lid too restrictive. Fortunately, my Caberg flip-front does an open-face conversion, and is of a suitable size to fit her. I took the chin-bar off and had her try it. The end result was a trip down to the dealers for an HJC open face unit and some Weise ladies gloves. As it happened, they also had fully armoured and waterproof Alpinestars ladies boots that actually looked like a fashion item. Neat trick, and as it was a week from her birthday, they went on the list too.

Second try at the CBT got as far as the road. The training site happens to be in a shopping centre just off the main crosstown A road. It's always busy enough for tailbacks, and the feeder roads are a nightmare of junctions and traffic lights. It was late on a Friday afternoon and Sue couldn't quite muster the plunge into that maelstrom of commuters and shoppers. Sensibly, she backed off - which was one reason for not telling anyone she was doing it in the first place, so there wouldn't be the pressure to overreach.

Sadly, the next try wasn't free. It was, however, successful, despite drizzly conditions. One of the other trainees, a fearless young girl, came straight out of the training centre and promptly crashed on too much front brake. No harm, no foul - apparently, she went on to pass as well. And Sue got home with her all-important certificate of road legality and a big smile. The D-notice was lifted and she took considerable pleasure in visiting people unexpectedly on her bike.

I don't know how much use the little Sachs will get over the next few months. Not as much as it has been enjoying, one suspects. Sue's still a little apprehensive, especially in less than ideal weather, and there are some fairly harsh roads around these parts. Still, that's not the point. The point is, she has the option and the desire to ride it, and has discovered something of the joys of two-wheeled transport. It's funny in a way, seeing it from a newbie's point of view (and trying to remember what it was like to be there myself), and rather delightful to know that the bug can still bite someone later in life, when they're supposed to be much more sensible!



A full test is likely to be some way off. I would guess that the restrictive nature of a 125 will make itself known in reasonably short order, especially since Sue likes to drive, well, fast. It's good for learning roadcraft, but the sensible way forward would be to phase in gears and proper controls at some point, in preparation for a Direct Access option. Even if she wants to go back to automatics after that, it makes little sense (to me) to take any of the lesser or restricted tests. We'll see, though.

For now, I'm inordinately proud of her for having got this far. And if you're down Sussex way and see a little silver Vespa-alike on the road, she'd be delighted to get a wave.

(More info on the bike: www.sachsbikes.co.uk)

Rider Visibility

'Zaphod' made an interesting comment to a recent post, and rather than reply at length (as I think his comment deserves it) I thought I would start a new topic. The original post concerned the often negative consequences of 'safety' improvements, but the comments thread drifted somewhat into Risk Compensation Theory and road safety issues.

Zaphod said...

Does anyone have a viable solution to the "Sorry-mate-I-didn't-see-you" problem? Anger is justified, but doesn't actually help; and I see the point about lights and unintended consequences.

Riders always assuming that they haven't been seen, that's a bit unrealistic? I give bikers a nod when I'm waiting at a junction, so they know that I've seen em. That makes their life a little easier, but doesn't solve the big problem. And what about the one that I won't see, one day?

I read once that sailors are aware that anything on a collision course doesn't move relative to the background. That sounds a bit complicated, but it's important.

Car drivers- When coming out of a junction, don't just rotate your head. Move it about a foot, side to side. This gives your stereo vision an 18 inch baseline, instead of 6 inch. If you don't follow that explanation, just do it. It works. Make it a habit. Every little helps. Bikers don't want to die, and drivers don't want to kill.

I am assuming that Zaphod is writing from a car driver's perspective. My response would be:

A viable solution to the SMIDSY problem is indeed to ride on the assumption that you are invisible. If you assume that no-one has seen you, and that they may do anything within the laws of physics in front of you, then you are pretty safe from other motorists who actually haven't seen you. In effect, you have compensated for their lack of observation before the event.

To give an example which is a frequent occurrence near me at the moment: traffic lights controlling some road works on a major route, with long tailbacks of stationary cars and lorries occupying the nearside lane. A common error for riders is to see the offside lane clear and assume that they can ride up it as long as no-one is coming the other way because it's for opposing traffic, right?. What often happens is that a car driver gets frustrated and decides to do a U-turn and try another route. He doesn't check his offside mirror because no-one will be coming up behind him because it's for opposing traffic, right? (same error) and pulls out to make a sharp turn. The rider is caught unawares and T-bones the car in the side. He has effectively hit a solid stationary object, and the consequences for the rider can be severe. Oscar India described a similar incident here recently [1].

If the rider assumes a) that no other motorist is aware that he is there, and b) any other driver may do anything at any time, then the rider will perform this manoeuvre with great caution, by riding slowly past the stationary traffic, and as far away from the queue as possible - on the far side of the offside lane. If a driver does do something unexpected, firstly you are travelling slowly enough to be able to take avoiding action, and secondly the distance from the traffic queue means that you have the maximum room to work in.

That's the ideal, but none of us is perfect. If the situation happens on a regular basis (and I guess city riding and constant filtering are an extreme example), then the rider will travel a little quicker and perhaps a little closer - familiarity breeding contempt, and all that. That increases the risk, but it also increases the advantage of the bike to deal with congestion, so each rider will find his or her own level of risk/benefit ratio. But the principle remains - it's safest to assume that you are wearing a Harry Potter Cloak of Invisibility. To answer Zaphod's point - yes, it may be unrealistic to ride like that all the time, but riding according to the principle is by far the safest way to ride. And he is dead right in saying that anger (other than at yourself for your stupidity) serves no purpose in this kind of situation.

Nodding to acknowledge that you have seen a rider is appreciated - that's thoughful behaviour, and we would all wish that all car drivers were similarly aware of other road users. Personally, I will 'ride invisible' until I am sure that a car driver has seen me, either by such a nod, or by positive eye contact. After that, I will move a little more confidently, but still with caution. We have all known a situation where a car driver has looked us straight in the eye, and then pulled into our path anyway.

Zaphod's comment about car drivers moving their heads is a good one. Bike magazine did some research a few years ago in collaboration with SafeSpeed which demonstrated exactly this point. Recent car design, and especially the concern for protection in a roll-over accident, has led to the A-pillar of new cars (the one between the windscreen and the front windows) being much thicker than it used to be. This has two important consequences for car/bike interactions:

• The A-pillar is thick enough to represent a bike-length at a distance of about 20m - in other words, at normal traffic separation distances, the bike can be completely hidden behind the pillar, and
• The motion of a car pulling onto a roundabout and the simultaneous motion of a bike going round the roundabout can coincide so that the bike remains hidden for about 50m of travel - long enough for the driver to pull out and hit the bike which he has never seen, despite looking.

The advice that the magazine gave [2] was that drivers should do exactly what Zaphod suggests - look deliberately on both sides of the A-pillar, moving the head to do so. The main check should be round the front of the pillar, to avoid the risk of 'opposite tracking' a vehicle in the blind spot. Bikers can assist the process by being highly visible - high-viz clothing and headlights on dipped beam are the usual suggestions. I'm not a big fan of the high-viz approach, but I can see the logic here. Another thing riders can do (and I can recommend this, as it works) is to change course slightly. This works best if you are approaching a junction on a straight road, with a car waiting to pull out. The small profile of the bike and rider don't give enough information to the driver about approach speed and direction (compared to say a truck, which gets bigger very quickly as it approaches), but the eye is always attracted to something that moves from side to side. Just doing a gentle weave as you approach the junction makes you instantly visible to the driver. (He may just assume you are drunk or out of control, but the end result is the same: he knows you are there.)

Bikers don't want to die, and drivers don't want to kill.

This is spot on, and I am glad for a bit of debate that is co-operative rather than hostile. Car drivers can help by looking out for bikers, and bikers can help by realising that car drivers may not always have seen them for good reasons, and even if they have looked propely and not roar up into people's blind spots and act as if the whole world owes them safe passage.

(The reference to sailors and collision courses is correct, too. If you spot another vessel heading across your course, you take a compass bearing on it. If you take another compass reading in a few minutes and it is the same, then you and the other vessel are on a collision course. One or both of you should take avoiding action.)

[1] A good biking blog. He doesn't post often, but when he does it is always thoughtful and intelligent.

[2] Link to the SafeSpeed website here, which gives screenshots of all of the above, plus artciles by Spen King (designed of the Range Rover) and others, and a general review of the SMIDSY phenomenon. Worth a read.

Wimps

This evening, I go to the Triumph Owners' Motorcycle Club branch meeting in the pub in a village nearby. And when I get there, I think I am the only one attending, because there are no bikes in the car park.

And there are about ten bikers in the pub.

Reason? Well, the roads were a bit damp, and it was dark, and it's getting cold, and it had rained earlier, and ...

We're a Motorcycle Club, guys. We ride bikes. The clue is in the name.

Motorbikes and Motorways

A comment on my previous post has made me think. Don commented that he avoided motorways wherever possible after a bad experience on one. Certainly you won't hear many bikers having a good word to say about them, and lots of car drivers hate (or fear) them too. Why is that?




For one thing, it is undeniable that motorways are the safest way to travel. Motorways account for only 3% of the KSI (killed and seriously injured) figures for the UK, and yet have around 20% of the total traffic. And they are getting safer: between 1998 and 2008, motorway traffic increased by 28%, whereas fatalities decreased by 9% over the same period. The reasons motorways are safer:

• Despite the higher speeds, all traffic is going in the same direction
• Central barriers to reduce risk of head-on collisions with opposing traffic flow
• 'Hard' safety features like crash barriers and guard rails
• Limited number of junctions, and joining traffic highly controlled
• All bends are gentle, all gradients are shallow
  
• Clear roadside zones with few obstacles to hit if you lose control
• Hard shoulder for stationary or broken-down vehicles
  
• Better quality and better maintenance of road surface
  
• Vertical separation of crossing traffic
• No access from private property
• Good directional and warning signage
  
• Prohibition of very slow vehicles and learners.

There is also the unquantifiable but noticeable advantage that, on a motorway, most people are on a longer journey and tend to be focused on the task of driving, rather than looking for a parking space, shouting at the kids, checking out shop windows, and so on. People can still be idiots on motorways, but they are idiots in a limited number of ways: pulling out without checking/indicating, for example, or lane hogging. Good observation and a restrained driving style can overcome most of these hazards. The infinite variety of ways in which motorists can be stupid on normal roads is reduced to a manageable number on a motorway.

Another thing in favour of motorways is the ability to maintain high average speeds. As long as a motorway is going in the direction you want, there is no quicker way of getting to your destination. It is easy to average 60-65 mph (not to be confused with cruising speed) on a journey with a lot of motorway miles, compared to a journey on A-roads, where an average of 45-50 mph is good going. (I'm talking about total, door-to-door journey times here.) Maintaining a cruising speed of around 80 mph is easy, safe and quite practical. There are regular and convenient places to stop and have a comfort break, although bringing your own food and drink is advisable from a quality and budgetary standpoint.

What's not to like about all that?

Well, the main objection is boredom. Mile after mile with nothing to look at but the number plate of the car in front. In a car, you can have music on, or the radio, or chat with your passengers. On a bike you don't even have that. Roadworks or congestion can mean long delays, although some of the worst delays I have experienced have been on A-roads. A lot of people find motorways stressful and competitive, although there is no need. Just chill out, be nice to everyone, and adopt a Zen-like acceptance of whatever happens. It works for me.

The biker's objection to motorways is that it's not what bikes are good at. Bikes love twisty roads, plenty of bends and variety. Bikes are not meant to spend much time in the vertical plane. Because the rear tyre has a curved profile to allow the bike to lean, riding upright concentrates all the wear in the middle section, leading to the tyre becoming 'squared off' and handling badly, as well as wearing out prematurely. (I'm talking about the UK here; in countries with huge distances and long, straight roads, the cruiser style of bike, which gains comfort and stability but loses manoeuvrability and dynamic performance, is more appropriate.) In addition, on a 'naked' bike such as mine, without wind and weather protection, sustained high speeds can be very tiring on the neck, arms and back.

So, for any journey where time is not critical, I will avoid motorways wherever possible. But if I need to use them, I will do so quite happily. There is no easier way of getting through large urban areas that you don't want to visit but merely pass through. And if there is congestion - well, a bike is the thing to be on.

Autumn Journey

At the end of this month, a younger cousin of mine is getting married. The wedding and reception are going to be in the Newcastle area, and of course I will be there. The wedding and reception are in the same hotel, so I have booked in for the night before and the night after as well. I don't see my family often, so there will be plenty of catching-up to do, and I foresee some alcoholic consumption as well.

So, how to get there? Well, the obvious answer is the car. Warm, dry, comfortable, Radio 4 when I got bored, and plenty of CDs for when The Archers or a 'radio drama' comes on, plenty of room for luggage, hook over the back door for the suit. Satnav, hands-free phone, drink and snax on the passenger seat.

And boring.

So I'm going on the bike. It's a long time since I did a long journey at this time of year on two wheels. I ride year-round, but from October to March it's generally only commuting and errands, with the occasional fun run. This will be 340 miles each way of mixed A-roads and some of the busiest motorways in the UK. On a Friday. And with less then ten hours of daylight to play with. It will be cold, although not midwinter cold, and the possibility of rain is quite high.

On the positive side, I have got all the kit to keep me warm and dry ("Up to a point, Lord Copper") and the bike is easily capable of the journey. I have two decent-sized hard cases to carry all my stuff, and an Ortlieb dry-bag if I can't get my suit in the cases. I can rig up a power lead to run the satnav (useful for route-finding at the far end, plus planning fuel stops and so on) and the Ride Logger iPhone app. I can't mount the TomTom like I did on the Pan, as the Bonnie has no fairing, but it can live in the tankbag and I will consult it when stationary.

And the hotel has dedicated motorcycle parking. In fact, when I read that on their website, it's what made me decide to go on the bike in the first place. It would seem rude not to.

I am also planning to call in on an elderly relative in Richmond that I haven't seen for a long time, and on one of the legs, depending on time, I plan to take the pretty route across the Yorkshire Dales and the Forest of Bowland. That's a landscape that I don't see enough of.



I'm looking forward to it. If your life doesn't bring you much adventure sometimes, you have to make your own.

Handlebars

One of the least interesting parts of a motorcycle is the handlebar. What can you say about it? It comes in ⅞" or 1" flavours, to suit normal bikes or Harley wannabes. If it's an off-road bike, or has off-road pretensions, it may have a brace to stiffen it. If you have a taste for biker-bling, you can order them in various garish anodised colours.



Apart from sundry oddities, like clip-ons, ape-hangers and Jota bars, that's about it. And yet the right handlebars are crucial to comfort on a bike, and make a big difference to how the bike feels, and consequently how the rider perceives the handling. High, pulled-back bars encourage a laid-back riding style; conversely, low bars which a long reach forward make the whole bike feel more racey and you ride accordingly. But between those extremes, even small adjustments make a big difference.

One of the things that made me buy the Bonneville was the position and angle of the handlebars. It is said that the method for getting the bars adjusted right is to sit on the bike with your eyes closed and put your hands where you think the bars ought to be. Get someone to measure the position of your hands, and adjust the bars to suit. I didn't need to do this with the Bonnie. From the moment I sat on it in the dealer's showroom, I knew that the bars were dead right. They made the whole bike feel tailor-made to my dimensions, and that was a big factor in persuading me that this was the bike for me.



But most men, me included, are never happy until we have had a fiddle about. Take that how you like. Yesterday I started to wonder if they might not be even better if they were a little lower and closer to me. I moved them a small amount backwards and downwards - possibly an inch at the bar ends, no more. Then I went for a ride.

For about half a mile, they felt great. But then I started to wonder if they were as good as all that. I felt a bit like a rider on one of those vintage machines, where the bars end somewhere near the rider's knees. The position they made me adopt, which was only a fraction different from the normal position, felt wrong - too relaxed, not 'on top of it'. And I was less able to hang onto the bars in the wind, which meant I could feel my back taking more of the strain of keeping me upright. With two miles, I was heading for home.

So I put them back to normal - or so I thought. In fact, this time I went too far the other way, even though they looked perfect. It took three or four attempts before I had them back to standard. I have just been for a ride into town to pick up some stuff for Anna, and they are perfect again. Phew.

For the record, I have never felt any desire to go as far as this:



A couple of safety notes if you are thinking of altering your handlebars (sorry if this is obvious, but ...)

1. Make sure the bars are bolted up tight when you are done. And then check again.
2. Swing the bars and make sure that they don't either hit the tank or trap your thumbs on full lock in either direction.
3. Start the engine and swing the bars from side to side, listening to the engine note, to make sure that the throttle cable isn't under strain at any point.
4. Finally, adjust levers and mirrors to suit the new position.

Sorry if this is an inconsequential and dull post. I haven't been writing anything about bikes for a while, and I wanted to get back to that. Politics and current affairs are all very well, but they're not important, if you know what I mean.

Enough Already!

I seem to have written about nothing else but this 10:10 crap for the last few days. So:

The lawnmower developed some serious problems, and the Lawnmower Man came to collect it on Saturday. This left a space in the garage, and heavy rain was forecast, so I decided to put the XT in the garage out of respect for its age and general decrepitude. Except that I couldn't, because the front wheel wouldn't turn. I got it in there by lifting and dragging in the end.

On Sunday I took it for a ride, and it was very sluggish. I pumped the front brake a few times and then stopped after a mile or so. I burned my finger on the front disc. The front brake was dragging like mad. So I went home. By now it was pushable, but only just.

Yesterday afternoon, I took off the front brake caliper (it needed levering off with a crowbar) and cleaned it up. Although there is no corrosion on the pistons, they are very stiff and sticky, even after a thorough clean and a pushback with a G-clamp. However, the bike is now rideable again, with a front brake that is only 'slightly' sticky. I may need to overhaul the caliper. (This is the 'new' second-hand caliper that I got in Swansea last year.)

That is all the motorcycle news for the present.

Thank you.

A Hint For Christmas

I loved this video (sorry, can't embed it): two brothers 'steal' their Dad's old 1969 Norton Commando 750 and have it fully restored for him in time for Christmas. It's a real beaut, and he didn't know a thing about it.

Great to watch if:

1. You are a sentimental old git, or

2. You like the look and sound of old British bikes.

Both will apply in some cases :)

H/t to Kenneth K of Norway, on the Triumph Rats Forum.

Sunday Spin

Triumph Owners' Club, West Wales branch, rideout today.

We met at the Hafod Hotel in Devil's Bridge, where the rest of the gang had been staying overnight after another rideout yesterday. With family staying, I didn't feel able to justify doing both days, so I made an early start this morning and was in Devil's Bridge by 10 am. The weather was glorious in the morning, although it got cloudy and rather sticky by the end of the day. This was the view over Aberystwyth from the A4120 between Aber and DB:



and this was the view over the mid-Wales mountains from the same spot:



Hard to see in this picture (thanks to the crappy camera that comes with the iPhone), but several of these hills are crowned, if that is the right word, with a forest of wind turbines. This view is one of my favourite views in the world, and the desecration of it with these ugly and pointless gestures to right-on environmentalism grieves me every time I see it. Fortunately, I had other things to do so I moved on quickly.

The rideout was supposed to encompass three mountain passes, but circumstances meant that only one was achieved. We had a coffee in a pleasant outdoor café in DB and fuelled up, and then set off over the tops to Nant-y-Moch reservoir:



and then over the mountains to Tal-y-Bont, where we stopped for a break in the excellent White Lion. (Incidentally, is Tal-y-Bont the only place in the UK with colour-contrasting pubs? We were in the Llew Gwyn and next door was the Llew Du, or Black Lion. If there's someone you don't really want to meet, you could say "Meet you in the Lion" and stand a 50% chance of avoiding them. Just a thought.)

The guy leading the trip had intended to take us over a couple of passes in the mountains near Bala which, from experience, I know to be spectacular. In fact, one of them, in a car, can be bloody frightening, as the road is narrow and very steep, and the drop-off to the side is immediate, unprotected and a bloody long way down. I was looking forward to tacking it on the bike which, being narrow, affords plenty of opportunities to avoid the precipitous bits. However, two new members came along, bringing inexperienced pillion passengers, and after a route-finding error cost us a bit of time (and learning that one of the pillions was neither happy nor comfortable), it was agreed to curtail the day by returning to Aber for a cup of tea and a bun on the sea front, followed by a blast back down the coast road. We did cover some of my favourite roads, however, going up to Machynlleth and then up the pass by Cadair Idris and then on to Corris and Dinas Mawddwy.

The ride up to DB was, shall we say, brisk, and the group ride part was sedate. The last 50 miles, after I had separated from the others, was 'progressive', which is another way of saying that I spanked the Bonnie's pretty little metal arse unmercifully. I was therefore quite surprised to find that my fuel consumption for the day was 60 mpg. The Hepco and Beckers stayed in place, and carried everything I needed without drama.

224 miles, 16.9 litres, just over £20 in fuel (petrol in them thar mountains is expensive). Add in a few cups of tea and a bacon baguette in Aber, and the whole day cost well under £30.

Result.

Pets 2

All done. The cat went semi-willingly into her transporter box and was easily dealt with by the experienced vet. Funny, she usually won't let us near her (she's a rescue cat and we think she must have had some bad experiences). The dog was relatively well-behaved and has a new best friend - the vet had a stash of biscuits for post-jab restorative purposes, and a biscuit is enough to earn undying devotion.

Prospective burglars, please note.

Sadly, I left the health records for both animals at home, so I will now have to return to the vet's with them to get them stamped up to date. And it's sunny and the roads are dry.

I have just had an idea.