car
4th January 2007, 21:23
The voices in my head told me to ignore the cracked forks spring, put the ZXR back together as well as it would go and take to the road for a miniature break this New Year.
We loaded her up early Wednesday morning: a sleeping bag each, a change of shreddies, toothbrush, tent, and off we went.
The missus has pillioned a couple of times before, but not since we were married. My last steed, most beloved of RVFs, wasn't really the tool for two-up work. It could barely cope with my fat can -- pillions sent the front wheel skyward at every opportunity.
So, we took it fairly (ho-ho) steady, working up a good rhythm out from Wanaka to Tarras. A quick stop to check that all was well with her back there. Urged to keep it up, we engaged Lindis with much gusto, sadly not matched with skill or style.
The most elementary error saw me lose bottle on a technical 55-posted switchback, changing camber over the crest of a hill. Tap the brakes, run wide, much shaking of head and swearing at oneself.
Composure regained, we tootled on merrily, taking her steady in the sunshine, then to the long, boring straights before Omarama. Devoid of traffic, we let the bike have her head a bit and got some airflow through the radiators.
For safety's sake, you understand.
Stopped for a coffee and a Russian Slice at Omarama and got chatting to a lovely couple who had been touring since 24th, all round the South Island, on a deep blue FJR1300. Just the ticket. They were heading out for Twizel, and I figured that, after we'd stopped for gas, we'd probably catch them up on our way through, as they seemed to be taking it steady to enjoy the views.
The bike had dropped a couple of spots of oil as it was parked, but nothing to write home about. Cleaning the engine thoroughly doesn't seem to have made the job of finding the oil leak that much easier -- the oil just seems to spread farther, thinner.
After a fill-up, we set off, very shortly followed by an RSV Mille, one-up. We stuck to the limits within town, as one does, but opened her up a little out of town. For some reason, the Mille didn't want to keep up.
The road between Omarama and Twizel was relatively dull. Light traffic, boats being towed home, corners way too fast to be interesting, straights you could fall asleep on.
A nudge in the ribs woke me up, though, as did the flashing red and blues in the mirror.
Hurrah, another unmarked plod, come to give me the good news.
"Got you at 130 back there, mate."
"Really? Jesus! Sorry!" I said, secretly thinking, "phew, 130!"
"If you don't believe me, you can come and see the radar."
"No, no, I'm not going to argue with you, officer. I just didn't realise that was how fast I was going."
"Well, you got to be careful -- that's quite a beast."
*beeee-aaap*
That'll be the Mille nipping past, making rude gestures.
He asked where I was coming from, going to, took my license and, just as he was about to turn -
"What the hell does he think he's doing?"
I turned to see what he was staring at. A camper, attempting a three-point turn in the middle of a straight a mile long, traffic braking heavily in both directions. Dust clouds -- camper's spinning wheels.
"Please... don't say he's got it stuck."
"I don't know what he thinks he's doing, officer, but *that* is dangerous," I smiled. He looked at me, obviously weighing it up.
"Yeah. You've got a warning: keep it down. I'm going to go and see what he's up to." I winked at the wife, she grinned, we waited until he'd gone before sharing a celebratory Rolo. Thank goodness for tourists.
We never did catch up with that couple, nor the Mille. The rest of the ride was spent in paranoid overwatch, straining to spot that unmarked car again. We made some fun past Pukaki, but that was all. The weather got worse and Burke's Pass was freezing. We got to Fairlie just as the rain stopped.
Pitched up, went for a beer. Couple of magazines to pass the time, then out to the Old Library for a meal. Good food, good wine, good price. Go there. Back to the tent.
This morning's ride back was a real gas. The sun shone and shone, warming our cold bones more than the copious coffees we had at every stop. And there were many stops, every opportunity, just stretching our time out a little more. We kept the speed down but had some fun back around Burke's. Tekapo was nice again, but Pukaki just left us breathless, and by now the missus was urging me to keep the grins up at every corner.
Food and Fuel at Twizel, followed by a long 100kph drag down those straights, with cars up the wazoo wondering why we were crawling along, but then, oh, Lindis.
Stuffed a few corners up, but I was still fairly pleased with our progress come the other other end. Two-up, so new to the bike the both of us, we still managed to get the chicken-strips down to the last ten mil, and the tyres were fairly smoking when we pulled up in Tarras for lunch.
A steady stage back nearly all the way to Wanaka, then a mad dash up the winding hill north of Luggate and sprint into town.
Home.
Sorry that was so long. We're still grinning at each other.
We loaded her up early Wednesday morning: a sleeping bag each, a change of shreddies, toothbrush, tent, and off we went.
The missus has pillioned a couple of times before, but not since we were married. My last steed, most beloved of RVFs, wasn't really the tool for two-up work. It could barely cope with my fat can -- pillions sent the front wheel skyward at every opportunity.
So, we took it fairly (ho-ho) steady, working up a good rhythm out from Wanaka to Tarras. A quick stop to check that all was well with her back there. Urged to keep it up, we engaged Lindis with much gusto, sadly not matched with skill or style.
The most elementary error saw me lose bottle on a technical 55-posted switchback, changing camber over the crest of a hill. Tap the brakes, run wide, much shaking of head and swearing at oneself.
Composure regained, we tootled on merrily, taking her steady in the sunshine, then to the long, boring straights before Omarama. Devoid of traffic, we let the bike have her head a bit and got some airflow through the radiators.
For safety's sake, you understand.
Stopped for a coffee and a Russian Slice at Omarama and got chatting to a lovely couple who had been touring since 24th, all round the South Island, on a deep blue FJR1300. Just the ticket. They were heading out for Twizel, and I figured that, after we'd stopped for gas, we'd probably catch them up on our way through, as they seemed to be taking it steady to enjoy the views.
The bike had dropped a couple of spots of oil as it was parked, but nothing to write home about. Cleaning the engine thoroughly doesn't seem to have made the job of finding the oil leak that much easier -- the oil just seems to spread farther, thinner.
After a fill-up, we set off, very shortly followed by an RSV Mille, one-up. We stuck to the limits within town, as one does, but opened her up a little out of town. For some reason, the Mille didn't want to keep up.
The road between Omarama and Twizel was relatively dull. Light traffic, boats being towed home, corners way too fast to be interesting, straights you could fall asleep on.
A nudge in the ribs woke me up, though, as did the flashing red and blues in the mirror.
Hurrah, another unmarked plod, come to give me the good news.
"Got you at 130 back there, mate."
"Really? Jesus! Sorry!" I said, secretly thinking, "phew, 130!"
"If you don't believe me, you can come and see the radar."
"No, no, I'm not going to argue with you, officer. I just didn't realise that was how fast I was going."
"Well, you got to be careful -- that's quite a beast."
*beeee-aaap*
That'll be the Mille nipping past, making rude gestures.
He asked where I was coming from, going to, took my license and, just as he was about to turn -
"What the hell does he think he's doing?"
I turned to see what he was staring at. A camper, attempting a three-point turn in the middle of a straight a mile long, traffic braking heavily in both directions. Dust clouds -- camper's spinning wheels.
"Please... don't say he's got it stuck."
"I don't know what he thinks he's doing, officer, but *that* is dangerous," I smiled. He looked at me, obviously weighing it up.
"Yeah. You've got a warning: keep it down. I'm going to go and see what he's up to." I winked at the wife, she grinned, we waited until he'd gone before sharing a celebratory Rolo. Thank goodness for tourists.
We never did catch up with that couple, nor the Mille. The rest of the ride was spent in paranoid overwatch, straining to spot that unmarked car again. We made some fun past Pukaki, but that was all. The weather got worse and Burke's Pass was freezing. We got to Fairlie just as the rain stopped.
Pitched up, went for a beer. Couple of magazines to pass the time, then out to the Old Library for a meal. Good food, good wine, good price. Go there. Back to the tent.
This morning's ride back was a real gas. The sun shone and shone, warming our cold bones more than the copious coffees we had at every stop. And there were many stops, every opportunity, just stretching our time out a little more. We kept the speed down but had some fun back around Burke's. Tekapo was nice again, but Pukaki just left us breathless, and by now the missus was urging me to keep the grins up at every corner.
Food and Fuel at Twizel, followed by a long 100kph drag down those straights, with cars up the wazoo wondering why we were crawling along, but then, oh, Lindis.
Stuffed a few corners up, but I was still fairly pleased with our progress come the other other end. Two-up, so new to the bike the both of us, we still managed to get the chicken-strips down to the last ten mil, and the tyres were fairly smoking when we pulled up in Tarras for lunch.
A steady stage back nearly all the way to Wanaka, then a mad dash up the winding hill north of Luggate and sprint into town.
Home.
Sorry that was so long. We're still grinning at each other.