James Deuce
14th April 2007, 18:02
Ride Impression.
The bit where I book a ride on someone else's $20,000 motorcycle.
Crasherfromwayback makes no secret of working for Wellington Motorcycles, nor does he make any secret of the fact that he works there because it gives him easy access to two wheeled crack.
Well he's started dealing crack now. Guess who rode the Tiger before me? Sels1. What a surprise. Not.
If I'd had a spare twelve or thirteen thousand dollars in my pocket I would probably have gone home with a new bike.
Let me tell you why.
The bit where I launch without stalling.
This is a tall motorcycle. Not XB12 tall, but getting there. Thankfully it isn't as tall as the previous model Tiger, purely thanks to the 17" wheels front and rear. Looking at diagrams in bike mags, you can see that the riding positions for the old and new model are as close as they could be without being the same bike.
On the new Tiger however, I can get both toes on the ground, or one foot flat just by dropping a hip to one side. The Triumph dash is rather cool with its circles and unresolved triangles, and takes up position behind a screen that conspires to be about the same size as the old Tiger's while looking about a third of the size. The bars could do with being dropped about half an inch to be totally comfortable for me, but that's one of the great things about bikes with bars instead of clip ons is that you can just undo the clamps and rotate them back a bit.
Man I'm a long way up, and the almost interminable wait (I a bit excited by the Tiger you see) while Sels puts his gloves on gives me time to check switch gear and mirrors and get used to being able to only get one foot on the ground.
Come on Sels, I want to go! Sels graciously waves me off and I "launch", not stall, no bunny hop, just a wave of torque from idle and up.
The bit where the world turns on its side.
The first corner is the Basin Reserve. The new traffic lights there, designed to ease congestion caused by the bypass, mean I don't get to really fire into my first bend whilst astride the Tiger because of the congestion. That's cool though because I'm high enough up to see over the Basin Reserve fence and I see the traffic is a lot clearer on the Newtown side.
Another two sets of lights and then "waahaay!", did I fall down, or did the road jump up at me? If I hadn't ridden that Aprilia Pegaso a couple of weeks ago, I wouldn't have been prepared for the altered reality that is 15 degrees of lean on a two wheeled Sky Tower.
Commuting Nirvana, or how I learned to stop worrying and lanesplit at speed.
Sels was right. The Tiger is an astonishingly good commuter bike. Dealing with the half a dozen sets of lights on the bypass showed that while the Tiger feels a little top heavy under 20 km/hr, it is perfectly controllable with a little bit of deft clutch and rear brake work, and will in fact fit through gaps my Zed won't because the bars and mirrors are above the mirrors of most light trucks and vans.
The moment we hit the Motorway the effortless grunt combined with nimble handling meant treating other traffic with respect was just one of many options. Standing up and doing ballet moves was just silly, as was saluting the speed camera (eh Sels), but it is a bit of a laugh to have to duck for motorway overbridges while standing up.
Suburban Ghost Riders, or one middle aged bloke shows another the race track of his teenage years.
Newlands.
Who'd a thunk it. Away from the manhole infested main drag, Newlands rises and falls, twists and turns, duck and dives, and ultimately loops back on itself with the frequency of an in situ larger intestine. Off camber camber, on camber, decreasing radius, all corners that could prove a little terrifying on a lesser bike, none of them daunted the mighty Tiger 1050. Sels local knowledge wasn't enough to unstick a nana riding an unfamiliar bike, such is the forgiving nature of the new Tiger.
Screwed up a corner? Went in too hard, or didn't turn in soon enough? No problems sir. Have another stab at it. You can flow through Newlands backroads like snakes on a plane, or ham fistedly stab, slash, hack, bounce and thrust yourself in a lurching manner. It doesn't matter. You'll be just as quick, and that ENGINE will fix it all for you.
Motion Camouflage, Cognitive Denial, ,and learning to do a rolling stoppie on someone else's $20,000 motorcycle.
Those of you who know Newlands in Wellington will no doubt understand the following scenario.
After looping our way through Newlands and Paparangi, Sels magically brought us back onto the Newlands main drag, heading for the Ngauranga Gorge.We stopped to debrief and both of us expressed our unrequited love for the Tiger 1050, and started the plan that involves hitmen and Insurance Policies.
Back to reality.
Sels needed to head to the Hutt (to ride a Honda - ewwwww) so we pulled out of the carpark we stopped in, and went straight into the lane that feeds Newlands traffic onto the Southbound Wellington Motorway. Just before this lane is an opportunity for those people who went up the Gorge looking for Upper Hutt to get back onto the Motorway.
I pull out. Ignite the Triumph turbine (there can't be any pistons in there, surely?) and my brain goes, "bleargh, waa, waa, waa UGH, UGHAAAA", as the woman in the blue car on my right pulls out in front of me.
Some say the following is a bad habit. I always rest two fingers on the front brake lever. Well thank whatever minor deity that was watching me today that I did. I was traveling at speed by the time she pulled out. My highly trained reflexes (gibbering panic) gave the lever a squeeze and then a bigger squeeze. The rear stepped out a bit, the forks compressed mightily and the radial brakes gripped like a 14 year old boy in a masturbatory frenzy. The back end lifted a little.
Then she saw me and stopped and I flicked to the left and around the front of her car. How she could miss two of the world's largest production motorcycles approaching, headlights ablaze, riders in a near Viking Berserkergang mental state, aggressively taking possesion of each inch of tarmac, I'll never know.
No drama apart from the minor sea sickness induced by the forks diving to sea level under heavy braking and then launching back into the clouds when released. Plus the glorious realisation of defeating the car gods once again.
You meet the nicest people on a Triumph?
No further dramas to report. A lovely ride around a gloriously beautiful Oriental Parade, through Roseneath and Haitaitai and back to Wellington Motorcycles.
Who waved?
One of a pair of motorcycle cops, half a dozen small children, a bloke on a Rocket III I'd seen earlier while on the Zed (he snobbed me! Doesn't he know Hinckley Triumph owes it all to Kawasaki's GPz900 engine?), and dare I say it, a couple of lovely lasses gushed at me at a crossing on Oriental Parade. I love how Motorcycle tanks hide the fact your fly is undone, and helmets hide baldness, carbuncles, grey facial hair, and eye bags I use to carry my shoes to work.
The motorcycle everyone says they want, and are finally starting to buy.
Upright seating positon.
Weather Protection.
Excellent ground clearance.
Sporty Rubber.
Engine response connected to your brain.
Brakes that ripple tarmac.
Nimble low speed handling.
Plush ride with somehow firm controlled suspension.
Tips on its ear in a nano second
It's all there, and more. I didn't have the chance to play with the suspension for obvious reasons, though I would have loved the chance as I am sure you can trade some of the plush ride for a bit more vertical control.
Crasherfromwayback warned me that the throttle response was a bit jerky because of the Fuel Injection needing a patch, and the chain being a bit loose. Can't say it bothered me.
The Tiger is no longer a soft roader as many, many people have already said, but then how many of the old Tiger crossed the Sahara, or spent all weekend banging up and down the Motu Gorge road?
If you've at least half a brain, but still want to go mental in the hills, carry a pillion sometimes, or tour New Zealand in comfort with minimal fuel stops, then DON'T BUY THIS BIKE! I WANT IT! FEKK OFF!
Many, many thanks to Crasherfromwayback (Pete MacDonald) and Wellington Motorcycles for a very special hour, one Saturday morning. Thanks for the company Sels, and your insights, and the opportunity to follow the 1050's Dad around.
The bit where I book a ride on someone else's $20,000 motorcycle.
Crasherfromwayback makes no secret of working for Wellington Motorcycles, nor does he make any secret of the fact that he works there because it gives him easy access to two wheeled crack.
Well he's started dealing crack now. Guess who rode the Tiger before me? Sels1. What a surprise. Not.
If I'd had a spare twelve or thirteen thousand dollars in my pocket I would probably have gone home with a new bike.
Let me tell you why.
The bit where I launch without stalling.
This is a tall motorcycle. Not XB12 tall, but getting there. Thankfully it isn't as tall as the previous model Tiger, purely thanks to the 17" wheels front and rear. Looking at diagrams in bike mags, you can see that the riding positions for the old and new model are as close as they could be without being the same bike.
On the new Tiger however, I can get both toes on the ground, or one foot flat just by dropping a hip to one side. The Triumph dash is rather cool with its circles and unresolved triangles, and takes up position behind a screen that conspires to be about the same size as the old Tiger's while looking about a third of the size. The bars could do with being dropped about half an inch to be totally comfortable for me, but that's one of the great things about bikes with bars instead of clip ons is that you can just undo the clamps and rotate them back a bit.
Man I'm a long way up, and the almost interminable wait (I a bit excited by the Tiger you see) while Sels puts his gloves on gives me time to check switch gear and mirrors and get used to being able to only get one foot on the ground.
Come on Sels, I want to go! Sels graciously waves me off and I "launch", not stall, no bunny hop, just a wave of torque from idle and up.
The bit where the world turns on its side.
The first corner is the Basin Reserve. The new traffic lights there, designed to ease congestion caused by the bypass, mean I don't get to really fire into my first bend whilst astride the Tiger because of the congestion. That's cool though because I'm high enough up to see over the Basin Reserve fence and I see the traffic is a lot clearer on the Newtown side.
Another two sets of lights and then "waahaay!", did I fall down, or did the road jump up at me? If I hadn't ridden that Aprilia Pegaso a couple of weeks ago, I wouldn't have been prepared for the altered reality that is 15 degrees of lean on a two wheeled Sky Tower.
Commuting Nirvana, or how I learned to stop worrying and lanesplit at speed.
Sels was right. The Tiger is an astonishingly good commuter bike. Dealing with the half a dozen sets of lights on the bypass showed that while the Tiger feels a little top heavy under 20 km/hr, it is perfectly controllable with a little bit of deft clutch and rear brake work, and will in fact fit through gaps my Zed won't because the bars and mirrors are above the mirrors of most light trucks and vans.
The moment we hit the Motorway the effortless grunt combined with nimble handling meant treating other traffic with respect was just one of many options. Standing up and doing ballet moves was just silly, as was saluting the speed camera (eh Sels), but it is a bit of a laugh to have to duck for motorway overbridges while standing up.
Suburban Ghost Riders, or one middle aged bloke shows another the race track of his teenage years.
Newlands.
Who'd a thunk it. Away from the manhole infested main drag, Newlands rises and falls, twists and turns, duck and dives, and ultimately loops back on itself with the frequency of an in situ larger intestine. Off camber camber, on camber, decreasing radius, all corners that could prove a little terrifying on a lesser bike, none of them daunted the mighty Tiger 1050. Sels local knowledge wasn't enough to unstick a nana riding an unfamiliar bike, such is the forgiving nature of the new Tiger.
Screwed up a corner? Went in too hard, or didn't turn in soon enough? No problems sir. Have another stab at it. You can flow through Newlands backroads like snakes on a plane, or ham fistedly stab, slash, hack, bounce and thrust yourself in a lurching manner. It doesn't matter. You'll be just as quick, and that ENGINE will fix it all for you.
Motion Camouflage, Cognitive Denial, ,and learning to do a rolling stoppie on someone else's $20,000 motorcycle.
Those of you who know Newlands in Wellington will no doubt understand the following scenario.
After looping our way through Newlands and Paparangi, Sels magically brought us back onto the Newlands main drag, heading for the Ngauranga Gorge.We stopped to debrief and both of us expressed our unrequited love for the Tiger 1050, and started the plan that involves hitmen and Insurance Policies.
Back to reality.
Sels needed to head to the Hutt (to ride a Honda - ewwwww) so we pulled out of the carpark we stopped in, and went straight into the lane that feeds Newlands traffic onto the Southbound Wellington Motorway. Just before this lane is an opportunity for those people who went up the Gorge looking for Upper Hutt to get back onto the Motorway.
I pull out. Ignite the Triumph turbine (there can't be any pistons in there, surely?) and my brain goes, "bleargh, waa, waa, waa UGH, UGHAAAA", as the woman in the blue car on my right pulls out in front of me.
Some say the following is a bad habit. I always rest two fingers on the front brake lever. Well thank whatever minor deity that was watching me today that I did. I was traveling at speed by the time she pulled out. My highly trained reflexes (gibbering panic) gave the lever a squeeze and then a bigger squeeze. The rear stepped out a bit, the forks compressed mightily and the radial brakes gripped like a 14 year old boy in a masturbatory frenzy. The back end lifted a little.
Then she saw me and stopped and I flicked to the left and around the front of her car. How she could miss two of the world's largest production motorcycles approaching, headlights ablaze, riders in a near Viking Berserkergang mental state, aggressively taking possesion of each inch of tarmac, I'll never know.
No drama apart from the minor sea sickness induced by the forks diving to sea level under heavy braking and then launching back into the clouds when released. Plus the glorious realisation of defeating the car gods once again.
You meet the nicest people on a Triumph?
No further dramas to report. A lovely ride around a gloriously beautiful Oriental Parade, through Roseneath and Haitaitai and back to Wellington Motorcycles.
Who waved?
One of a pair of motorcycle cops, half a dozen small children, a bloke on a Rocket III I'd seen earlier while on the Zed (he snobbed me! Doesn't he know Hinckley Triumph owes it all to Kawasaki's GPz900 engine?), and dare I say it, a couple of lovely lasses gushed at me at a crossing on Oriental Parade. I love how Motorcycle tanks hide the fact your fly is undone, and helmets hide baldness, carbuncles, grey facial hair, and eye bags I use to carry my shoes to work.
The motorcycle everyone says they want, and are finally starting to buy.
Upright seating positon.
Weather Protection.
Excellent ground clearance.
Sporty Rubber.
Engine response connected to your brain.
Brakes that ripple tarmac.
Nimble low speed handling.
Plush ride with somehow firm controlled suspension.
Tips on its ear in a nano second
It's all there, and more. I didn't have the chance to play with the suspension for obvious reasons, though I would have loved the chance as I am sure you can trade some of the plush ride for a bit more vertical control.
Crasherfromwayback warned me that the throttle response was a bit jerky because of the Fuel Injection needing a patch, and the chain being a bit loose. Can't say it bothered me.
The Tiger is no longer a soft roader as many, many people have already said, but then how many of the old Tiger crossed the Sahara, or spent all weekend banging up and down the Motu Gorge road?
If you've at least half a brain, but still want to go mental in the hills, carry a pillion sometimes, or tour New Zealand in comfort with minimal fuel stops, then DON'T BUY THIS BIKE! I WANT IT! FEKK OFF!
Many, many thanks to Crasherfromwayback (Pete MacDonald) and Wellington Motorcycles for a very special hour, one Saturday morning. Thanks for the company Sels, and your insights, and the opportunity to follow the 1050's Dad around.