James Deuce
1st July 2006, 21:47
I nearly said it out loud too.
Thanks to Hitcher buying a new bike to replace the thoroughly muntered STeed the thinnest excuse for a tour of the Wairarapa, Manawatu, and Horowhenua districts was dropped in my welcoming (though this evening somewhat shriveled by cold) lap. I think Mrs Hitcher was keen to get Mr Hitcher out of the house and off her bike as well.
Things were made a little more frazzling this morning when the DVD player shat itself in the middle of Spongebob. I was supposed to go into Sawyers to meet the Hitchers at 10am, but didn't get back with the new DVD player (thank you Farmer's Red Dot Special sale) until 9:30am. A quick phone call sorted out a new meeting place and we ventured off into the fog. Damp, freezing fog. As is the norm, the further North on River Rd one travelled the denser the fog got, and the colder the cold got. I'd shaved my head this morning too, and then forgot to put my balaclava on. There's nothing like nursing an ice cream headache for 30kms.
We burst out of the fog at Te Marua, and Hitcher pointed out the 15 metre strip of melted tarmac the STeed's brakes had carved into the road. Pretty flipping impressive, and anyone who thinks Hitcher didn't try hard enough should have a good look, particularly tomorrow on the KB ride.
The Rimutakas were great and I got to have a good listen to the new Micron. Ahh, Hoon Bling. There's nothing more satisfying than using it to make beardies driving soft top Nissan 350Z's shit themselves.
Once we left Featherston the fog asserted itself again. Only worse this time. really thick and very wet. Thank goodness for Nikwax visorproof. Turn head to the left, left side of visor completely clear, turn to right, clear again. Repeat process as necessary. By the time lunch was done, the fog had lifted. Off to see the Ashurst wind farm, via the middle road, the bypass and SH2. Mrs H got a bit startled by the Z's new shouty voice down one particularly straight piece of back road. Love the popping and banging on overrun too.
Then something cool happened. I've been trying to get Mrs Hitcher to ride the Z for some time, but when she tried it on for size, she wasn't confident about either the mount or dismount procedure, let alone the odd intersection. I've ridden Mrs H's Marauder before (quiet Dover), and it is ideal for the sort of relaxed cruise we were on today, and I was quite looking forward to another go. So then Hitcher gestured at the FJR and said, "ride it to Eketahuna and let me know what you think."
Well, if you insist....
Flipping heck. From some angles it looks huge, others tiny. Sitting on it made it vanish altogether (Shut UP, Dover), and the riding position was total comfy chair. Everything just falls to hand. Firing up the turbine, err engine, and heading out onto the road proved the old maxim of weight vanishing once on the move. I don't know why the STX1300 beats the FJR in comparisons, because to my mind, the FJR is a better bike in everyway. It steers beautifully, it changes direction like a sprotsbike, admittedly a large one, the brakes are phenomenal front and rear, and the ENGINE! Talk about turbine smooth. All those plonkers that complain about the gearbox that has "only" 5-speeds need a knee to the groin. It only NEEDS one gear. The FJR's party trick came in handy when we had a short rain shower. Electric Screen. Raise the screen Mr Smee! At its highest position it felt like the shove that Aunty Mabel gave you in the back of the head when she caught you drinking Dad's beer at the family Chritmas BBQ. Down a smidgen and the low pressure zone disappears and the only rain touching me is along the top of my visor.
The bastard made me give it back in Eketahuna though.
We took the scenic route through Mangamaire to Woodville, and then up to the Wind farm. Mrs H loves the way these things look, while Mr H finds them breathtaking, but also an object of, "eco-vandalism". They creep me out. If anyone has read John Christopher's "White Mountains" trilogy, they'd know about the tripods. Somehow they remind me of armies of tripods marching across the landscape.
Then the H's MADE me go to Palmerston Nth. John Cleese was right. I've spent years avoiding this place, preferring to keep the period of time between visits measureable in decades. I get lost. I always end up heading to Wanganui or Taihape when I'm trying to get to Wellington. The place is now crawling with hoody wearing Wayne's, and Raylenes wearing jeans 8 sizes to small. I'm not particularly svelte myself, but I don't go out of my way to make my gut and back fat spill out over the top of my jeans.
The cafe they made me go to was rather nice though, but it was here that I had my Russell Peters moment. I was sipping my Perrier, when this rather dirty silver jacket, baggy grey sweatpants, and a large head covered in thinning greasy hair floated past BELOW eye level. I was sitting down too. If I hadn't had the glass of mineral water at my lips, "Holy fuck, a midget" would have been audible. Instead what came out was a muffled, "bubble, bubble." Mrs H said, "Pardon?", and I mumbled, "nothing", waited until he was out of earshot and then told her the story. I think Mr H is going to have to show Mrs H the Russell Peters video now.
I was particularly grateful that the H's didn't ditch me at this point, or I would have still been riding around that friggin wasteland some idiot called Palmerston Nth. They should have named it, "Stay The Fuck Away From Here", or something equally illuminating, so us innocent city folk didn't get drawn into the PN urban square of doom.
The Z clocked 10,000kms 5kms out of Shannon. Almost 6 months to the day. I really like this bike and now it sounds right too. Just have to get the pack rack on. Next weekend I reckon.
The sunset was just gorgeous. Golden then red light on one side, and mountain peaks capped with blue white snow on the other side. Not a bad day for a ride, but blimey it got cold quick on the way home as soon as it got dark.
Thanks to Hitcher buying a new bike to replace the thoroughly muntered STeed the thinnest excuse for a tour of the Wairarapa, Manawatu, and Horowhenua districts was dropped in my welcoming (though this evening somewhat shriveled by cold) lap. I think Mrs Hitcher was keen to get Mr Hitcher out of the house and off her bike as well.
Things were made a little more frazzling this morning when the DVD player shat itself in the middle of Spongebob. I was supposed to go into Sawyers to meet the Hitchers at 10am, but didn't get back with the new DVD player (thank you Farmer's Red Dot Special sale) until 9:30am. A quick phone call sorted out a new meeting place and we ventured off into the fog. Damp, freezing fog. As is the norm, the further North on River Rd one travelled the denser the fog got, and the colder the cold got. I'd shaved my head this morning too, and then forgot to put my balaclava on. There's nothing like nursing an ice cream headache for 30kms.
We burst out of the fog at Te Marua, and Hitcher pointed out the 15 metre strip of melted tarmac the STeed's brakes had carved into the road. Pretty flipping impressive, and anyone who thinks Hitcher didn't try hard enough should have a good look, particularly tomorrow on the KB ride.
The Rimutakas were great and I got to have a good listen to the new Micron. Ahh, Hoon Bling. There's nothing more satisfying than using it to make beardies driving soft top Nissan 350Z's shit themselves.
Once we left Featherston the fog asserted itself again. Only worse this time. really thick and very wet. Thank goodness for Nikwax visorproof. Turn head to the left, left side of visor completely clear, turn to right, clear again. Repeat process as necessary. By the time lunch was done, the fog had lifted. Off to see the Ashurst wind farm, via the middle road, the bypass and SH2. Mrs H got a bit startled by the Z's new shouty voice down one particularly straight piece of back road. Love the popping and banging on overrun too.
Then something cool happened. I've been trying to get Mrs Hitcher to ride the Z for some time, but when she tried it on for size, she wasn't confident about either the mount or dismount procedure, let alone the odd intersection. I've ridden Mrs H's Marauder before (quiet Dover), and it is ideal for the sort of relaxed cruise we were on today, and I was quite looking forward to another go. So then Hitcher gestured at the FJR and said, "ride it to Eketahuna and let me know what you think."
Well, if you insist....
Flipping heck. From some angles it looks huge, others tiny. Sitting on it made it vanish altogether (Shut UP, Dover), and the riding position was total comfy chair. Everything just falls to hand. Firing up the turbine, err engine, and heading out onto the road proved the old maxim of weight vanishing once on the move. I don't know why the STX1300 beats the FJR in comparisons, because to my mind, the FJR is a better bike in everyway. It steers beautifully, it changes direction like a sprotsbike, admittedly a large one, the brakes are phenomenal front and rear, and the ENGINE! Talk about turbine smooth. All those plonkers that complain about the gearbox that has "only" 5-speeds need a knee to the groin. It only NEEDS one gear. The FJR's party trick came in handy when we had a short rain shower. Electric Screen. Raise the screen Mr Smee! At its highest position it felt like the shove that Aunty Mabel gave you in the back of the head when she caught you drinking Dad's beer at the family Chritmas BBQ. Down a smidgen and the low pressure zone disappears and the only rain touching me is along the top of my visor.
The bastard made me give it back in Eketahuna though.
We took the scenic route through Mangamaire to Woodville, and then up to the Wind farm. Mrs H loves the way these things look, while Mr H finds them breathtaking, but also an object of, "eco-vandalism". They creep me out. If anyone has read John Christopher's "White Mountains" trilogy, they'd know about the tripods. Somehow they remind me of armies of tripods marching across the landscape.
Then the H's MADE me go to Palmerston Nth. John Cleese was right. I've spent years avoiding this place, preferring to keep the period of time between visits measureable in decades. I get lost. I always end up heading to Wanganui or Taihape when I'm trying to get to Wellington. The place is now crawling with hoody wearing Wayne's, and Raylenes wearing jeans 8 sizes to small. I'm not particularly svelte myself, but I don't go out of my way to make my gut and back fat spill out over the top of my jeans.
The cafe they made me go to was rather nice though, but it was here that I had my Russell Peters moment. I was sipping my Perrier, when this rather dirty silver jacket, baggy grey sweatpants, and a large head covered in thinning greasy hair floated past BELOW eye level. I was sitting down too. If I hadn't had the glass of mineral water at my lips, "Holy fuck, a midget" would have been audible. Instead what came out was a muffled, "bubble, bubble." Mrs H said, "Pardon?", and I mumbled, "nothing", waited until he was out of earshot and then told her the story. I think Mr H is going to have to show Mrs H the Russell Peters video now.
I was particularly grateful that the H's didn't ditch me at this point, or I would have still been riding around that friggin wasteland some idiot called Palmerston Nth. They should have named it, "Stay The Fuck Away From Here", or something equally illuminating, so us innocent city folk didn't get drawn into the PN urban square of doom.
The Z clocked 10,000kms 5kms out of Shannon. Almost 6 months to the day. I really like this bike and now it sounds right too. Just have to get the pack rack on. Next weekend I reckon.
The sunset was just gorgeous. Golden then red light on one side, and mountain peaks capped with blue white snow on the other side. Not a bad day for a ride, but blimey it got cold quick on the way home as soon as it got dark.