vifferman
1st November 2004, 09:38
Yesterday (that would be Sunday, for those of you who missed it) dawned sunny :sunny: and (initially cloudless), and Mrs FS said: "What a lovely day - do you want to go for a ride?"
:mellow: "Mmmm.... yeah, all right. Wotcha have in mind?"
"How about we go to Tauranga for the day, and visit Mum 'n' Dad?"
:mellow: "Mmmm.... yeah, all right."
So, after a hurried-ish breakfast, we shoehorned Mrs FS into her leathers and brand-new Diadora Race boots (which she was dying to try out), I adjusted the bouncy bits on the FahrtSturm (more air in the back black thing, some preload on the spring thing, and a half turn on the doodad), chucked some clothes in the backpack, and some squishy orange things in my ears (VERY squishy AND squelchy, after I quickly washed the earwax off them), and we Hit the Happy Trails before all the partygoers from the previous night groaned back into life. :spudwave:
Groovy. Not much traffic on the motorways yet, at NotQuiteNineOfTheAnteMeridian, so the boring slabby bit was not too painful, once I'd changed lanes to let the policeman past me. (No point in having a LawEnforcer in your blind spot, when you've no idea what the speed limit is for the current bit of PotholesTiedTogetherWithAsphalt, and you've no idea what velocity the SquigglyWhiteThingsOnTheDial represent anyway.:blink: )
At Bombay, I spied a coupla bikes just ahead, so I made haste to catch up to them, hoping they would be travelling at JustTheRightSpeed, which as it turned out, they seemed to be. I think. They also seemed to be travelling in the same direction, which was a bonus. At the turnoff to Ngatea, they went left, so I thought, "Right - the gorge it is!" By now, the weather was looking decidedly murky, and threateningly glowery, especially in the direction of ahead, so I was wondering whether I should suggest to the lady on the back if we should flag the trip, and head back to the sunny part of the country. The RedLightOfDoom declared we should pull in to the nearest purveyor of distilled dinosaur spooge, so we did. The two bikes ahead of us were obviously less thirsty or had bigger fuel reserves, as they'd stopped up the road aways for a conference. After filling up the tank, and emptying my wallet, we joined them for a conflab. Turned out it was a K100 and a GSX1400, two guys and their ladies.
"You from Auckland?"
"Yup."
"Where you headed?"
"Tauranga for the day."
"So are we!"
"Weather looks a bit dodgy up ahead."
"Yeah, that's what we thought."
"Mebbe it'll burn off the other side of the gorge."
"Let's give it a go."
"Righty-O!"
A few leagues (whatever the hell they are) further on, the murk revealed itself to be drizzle, light rain, and general dampness. Nothing too wetting, but not too nice either. The ride throught the gorge was pleasant-ish, as the RidersFromWaiuku were riding carefully, mindful of the inclement conditions, their valuable passengers and the 3-week old Suzuki. (They'd taken their VL in for an oil change, and ridden out on the GSX! :niceone: )
We stopped again in Waihi, where we rearranged clothes, filled the BMW, and I cleaned bugs off my visor. Another quick conference was held, which was probably decided by the sight of a party of various bikes zooming off in the other direction for some fun in the Karangahake Gorge. We would press on, hoping for the Sunny Bay Of Plenty to live up to its name.
Alas, it was dampish all the way to Te Puna, but at least it was only grey and cloudy after that. A brief stop at the Mount to bid our new-found friends adieu, swap cellphone numbers, tall stories and names, and we parted company.
So after an unhurried lunch at Mrs FS's parent's house at Papamoa, we once again donned the bike gear that had been drying in the wan sunshine on the FahrtSturm, and put our dampish bums on the uncomfortable seat for the return journey, this time over the Kaimais. As anticipated, it was raining before we got to Tauriko, so I pulled in to slake the beast's unquenchable thirst and to put my overpants on again.
The road over the Kaimais was a bit rutted in places, visibility wasn't great, so I travelled just fast enough to pass the few cars we saw. On the western side, it was raining a bit harder, but as expected it was dry before the bottom, and remained so most of the way home. We stopped again briefly at Patamahoe, when my knee and bum were screaming at me to end the torture, and again at Ararimu, after a great ride along the Hunuas, to visit with my sisters and terrify the spaniel sisters with our fearsome appearance and noisy transport. Another fuel stop at Ramarama, where Mrs FS said "Hi!" to an SP rider, admired his newish SP and matching clobber, while bemusedly declaring "There's nowhere for me to sit!", then we were off for a final stint of slab-riding.
A quick (and modest) celebratory wheelie into our street, and we were home again, just in time to prepare a steak dinner with a most drinkable pinot noir and collapse in the leather recliners for a chuckle or two at Jeremy Clarkson.
So, 500-odd kilometres, two hours in Papamoa, and 6 hours on the road.
A most excellent if somewhat tiring day.:done: :D :2thumbsup
Postscript: I solved The Mystery Of the Damp Posterior this morning while winding the preload back off. It appears the lack of a rear mudguard meant that water off the road was spraying up the back, under the pack, and running along the seat, where Mrs FS kindly sucked it up with her leathers:blink: so my arse could remain relatively dry. :whistle:
Justification for fitting a hugger, methinks....
:mellow: "Mmmm.... yeah, all right. Wotcha have in mind?"
"How about we go to Tauranga for the day, and visit Mum 'n' Dad?"
:mellow: "Mmmm.... yeah, all right."
So, after a hurried-ish breakfast, we shoehorned Mrs FS into her leathers and brand-new Diadora Race boots (which she was dying to try out), I adjusted the bouncy bits on the FahrtSturm (more air in the back black thing, some preload on the spring thing, and a half turn on the doodad), chucked some clothes in the backpack, and some squishy orange things in my ears (VERY squishy AND squelchy, after I quickly washed the earwax off them), and we Hit the Happy Trails before all the partygoers from the previous night groaned back into life. :spudwave:
Groovy. Not much traffic on the motorways yet, at NotQuiteNineOfTheAnteMeridian, so the boring slabby bit was not too painful, once I'd changed lanes to let the policeman past me. (No point in having a LawEnforcer in your blind spot, when you've no idea what the speed limit is for the current bit of PotholesTiedTogetherWithAsphalt, and you've no idea what velocity the SquigglyWhiteThingsOnTheDial represent anyway.:blink: )
At Bombay, I spied a coupla bikes just ahead, so I made haste to catch up to them, hoping they would be travelling at JustTheRightSpeed, which as it turned out, they seemed to be. I think. They also seemed to be travelling in the same direction, which was a bonus. At the turnoff to Ngatea, they went left, so I thought, "Right - the gorge it is!" By now, the weather was looking decidedly murky, and threateningly glowery, especially in the direction of ahead, so I was wondering whether I should suggest to the lady on the back if we should flag the trip, and head back to the sunny part of the country. The RedLightOfDoom declared we should pull in to the nearest purveyor of distilled dinosaur spooge, so we did. The two bikes ahead of us were obviously less thirsty or had bigger fuel reserves, as they'd stopped up the road aways for a conference. After filling up the tank, and emptying my wallet, we joined them for a conflab. Turned out it was a K100 and a GSX1400, two guys and their ladies.
"You from Auckland?"
"Yup."
"Where you headed?"
"Tauranga for the day."
"So are we!"
"Weather looks a bit dodgy up ahead."
"Yeah, that's what we thought."
"Mebbe it'll burn off the other side of the gorge."
"Let's give it a go."
"Righty-O!"
A few leagues (whatever the hell they are) further on, the murk revealed itself to be drizzle, light rain, and general dampness. Nothing too wetting, but not too nice either. The ride throught the gorge was pleasant-ish, as the RidersFromWaiuku were riding carefully, mindful of the inclement conditions, their valuable passengers and the 3-week old Suzuki. (They'd taken their VL in for an oil change, and ridden out on the GSX! :niceone: )
We stopped again in Waihi, where we rearranged clothes, filled the BMW, and I cleaned bugs off my visor. Another quick conference was held, which was probably decided by the sight of a party of various bikes zooming off in the other direction for some fun in the Karangahake Gorge. We would press on, hoping for the Sunny Bay Of Plenty to live up to its name.
Alas, it was dampish all the way to Te Puna, but at least it was only grey and cloudy after that. A brief stop at the Mount to bid our new-found friends adieu, swap cellphone numbers, tall stories and names, and we parted company.
So after an unhurried lunch at Mrs FS's parent's house at Papamoa, we once again donned the bike gear that had been drying in the wan sunshine on the FahrtSturm, and put our dampish bums on the uncomfortable seat for the return journey, this time over the Kaimais. As anticipated, it was raining before we got to Tauriko, so I pulled in to slake the beast's unquenchable thirst and to put my overpants on again.
The road over the Kaimais was a bit rutted in places, visibility wasn't great, so I travelled just fast enough to pass the few cars we saw. On the western side, it was raining a bit harder, but as expected it was dry before the bottom, and remained so most of the way home. We stopped again briefly at Patamahoe, when my knee and bum were screaming at me to end the torture, and again at Ararimu, after a great ride along the Hunuas, to visit with my sisters and terrify the spaniel sisters with our fearsome appearance and noisy transport. Another fuel stop at Ramarama, where Mrs FS said "Hi!" to an SP rider, admired his newish SP and matching clobber, while bemusedly declaring "There's nowhere for me to sit!", then we were off for a final stint of slab-riding.
A quick (and modest) celebratory wheelie into our street, and we were home again, just in time to prepare a steak dinner with a most drinkable pinot noir and collapse in the leather recliners for a chuckle or two at Jeremy Clarkson.
So, 500-odd kilometres, two hours in Papamoa, and 6 hours on the road.
A most excellent if somewhat tiring day.:done: :D :2thumbsup
Postscript: I solved The Mystery Of the Damp Posterior this morning while winding the preload back off. It appears the lack of a rear mudguard meant that water off the road was spraying up the back, under the pack, and running along the seat, where Mrs FS kindly sucked it up with her leathers:blink: so my arse could remain relatively dry. :whistle:
Justification for fitting a hugger, methinks....