ManDownUnder
28th April 2008, 10:43
I took a $200 yellow piece of poo looking mud bug for a test ride over the weekend through the backblocks of Taihape. Spectacular scenery can be totally credited to the spectacular hills with “narrow but steep as all hell tracks” (technical term).
The bike started off pretty uncomfortable, Spongy shocks, rough to ride reasonable brakes etc, but nothing that compared to my high mileage RF (95,000kms) but then the 185 probably was twice as old.
The first test came on a steep tracks climbing up into the foot of a huge paddock. 1st gear and the bike handled it quite nicely – weight forward so it didn’t tip and all was well till there was a bit of a step up I had to get over… front was up fine but the back just sat there and clawed away at the slippery clay… no point giving it any more gas so I hopped off wondering how the hell anyone is expected to do this. The trigger guard from the 308 slung over my back was beating itself repeatedly into my left kidney as I jumped off, gave the bike some gas and pushed it up and over that step.
Back on the bike and we were away again up the foot of a huge, steep amphitheatre shaped hill, with a couple of goats on the far side. Off the bike – 10 rounds of ammo, grabbed one of the boys and climbed like a mad bastard. 10 mins and 2 coronaries later I was in place and ready for some action… first round, chambered, fired and the goats obviously didn’t like it much – they ran further up the bloody hill. All except the one that was very dead rolling at awkward angles back down the hill.
There was a spiritual transfer over the next 3 minutes as the 22-250 below me, the .222 single shot in the hands of the kid with me, and the silenced 45 in his dad’s hands all came to life – unlike the goats. The remained of the (growing…!) mob running around the hills, stopping to check things out, and other goats coming out of guts and from behind trees, long grass and some apparently from the very ether itself. We started chasing about 8, but there were 40 or so toward the end? I was out of ammo so walked did the decent thing and walked slipped and slid to the track at the top of the hill and followed the ridgeline fence around to herd the goats back to the guns.
The bike was waiting patiently at the foot of the hill. It was ideally equipped for that purpose – and I can’t fault it’s (lack of) operation in that respect.
The goats heading towards the lead coming up at them – another couple of spiritual transfers occurred and while I was walking the ridgeline fence I spotted another mob in the next paddock over.
Cue a repeat of the first scenario. At the end we had a momentary reflection on all the death and mayhem, feeling sorry for all those that had given their lives – many many rounds of ammo without their heads now jingling in our pockets… and I at last got the chance to reload… (mental note – you can NEVER have too much ammo…).
So back to the bike – it fired up first kick, blue smoke signals telling me it wanted to go somewhere and away it went. Onto some tracks that I have to admit were making me wonder if I should be trying them. A combination of mud, loose gravel, hard wet clay etc all had their challenges but I learned something very useful – the more you ride a bike, the better it knows how to do the job. Riding got easier throughout the day (and shooting got easier too – must have been a clever rifle). I’ve been riding and shooting long enough so clearly I have nothing to learn, yet things improved so I can only ascribe it to intelligent machines.
Anyway – with “goat stink” wafting up the valley, we stopped back to the house for lunch, talked a bit of BS let the barrels cool off and we were off to find another challenge for the mudbug (which this article is OBVIOUSLY about… Tui anyone?)
Ok – we found it – and we found it in spades. “You expect me to ride this thing… up… there?????“All right – I’ll give it a go but keep a quad behind me so I don’t get left behind. And up we went. The bike had obviously been listening and learning. It did a much better job this time than it had that very same morning with me on it. It seemed a lot more settled, assured, and secure. Bit of grass here and there, steep sections needing a run-up that veered left or right (and some straight ahead) after the crest all got easier and easier. I was impressed with the little thing and 1st or 2nd gear took me anywhere I wanted to go. I was mindful of the upcoming section though – we’d done a hell of a lot of “up”. And if I recall rightly that means a lot of the corresponding “down”.
The bike obviously needed to learn “down”. It was HOPELESS at first. I was doing all I can to keep it on the track and safely navigate rocks bumps etc but it managed. The brakes were good enough and while they were used judiciously… anytime a goat made an appearance they got a good workout. The trigger guard from the 308 was beating itself slowly through my left kidney but at least there was ammo in the gun (which the goats hated). They protested by lying down when it went bang.
Up hill and down dale for the rest of the ride. Bog all fuel used, and it didn’t miss a beat and didn’t lie down on me once. I was proud of it – cheap to buy, cheap to run and the goats worst nightmare. The sun was setting just as we hit the track for home, and(of course) someone stopped in a hurry – pointing up (and I mean UP) to the right. Mr Man with his whizzy range finder… 200m… 207 to the billy. Bang bang … bang b-bang bang bang… billy is down but very sore, dead nannies displaying their understanding of gravitational influences on limp carcases.
So Billy’s having bad time, and takes comfort by lying down on rock (recall… we’re looking UP to him so he’s not too visible…). Do the decent thing… finish him off…. Bang b-bang-bang b-b-b-bang. Bits of dust flying, failing light… and the cry of a sinlge goat way the hell away… so (puffs out chest) ol’ JAFA here chambers another round… bang… silence followed by “that was a good shot…” from the farmer.
Back to the bike - I’d love to speak to the engineers about the thing. They’ve hidden a brain on this thing somewhere which helped the bike adapt to me (I’m an experienced rider – therefore I obviously have nothing to learn per the KB mantra.)
I need to speak to the rifle maker too – same reasons.
The bike started off pretty uncomfortable, Spongy shocks, rough to ride reasonable brakes etc, but nothing that compared to my high mileage RF (95,000kms) but then the 185 probably was twice as old.
The first test came on a steep tracks climbing up into the foot of a huge paddock. 1st gear and the bike handled it quite nicely – weight forward so it didn’t tip and all was well till there was a bit of a step up I had to get over… front was up fine but the back just sat there and clawed away at the slippery clay… no point giving it any more gas so I hopped off wondering how the hell anyone is expected to do this. The trigger guard from the 308 slung over my back was beating itself repeatedly into my left kidney as I jumped off, gave the bike some gas and pushed it up and over that step.
Back on the bike and we were away again up the foot of a huge, steep amphitheatre shaped hill, with a couple of goats on the far side. Off the bike – 10 rounds of ammo, grabbed one of the boys and climbed like a mad bastard. 10 mins and 2 coronaries later I was in place and ready for some action… first round, chambered, fired and the goats obviously didn’t like it much – they ran further up the bloody hill. All except the one that was very dead rolling at awkward angles back down the hill.
There was a spiritual transfer over the next 3 minutes as the 22-250 below me, the .222 single shot in the hands of the kid with me, and the silenced 45 in his dad’s hands all came to life – unlike the goats. The remained of the (growing…!) mob running around the hills, stopping to check things out, and other goats coming out of guts and from behind trees, long grass and some apparently from the very ether itself. We started chasing about 8, but there were 40 or so toward the end? I was out of ammo so walked did the decent thing and walked slipped and slid to the track at the top of the hill and followed the ridgeline fence around to herd the goats back to the guns.
The bike was waiting patiently at the foot of the hill. It was ideally equipped for that purpose – and I can’t fault it’s (lack of) operation in that respect.
The goats heading towards the lead coming up at them – another couple of spiritual transfers occurred and while I was walking the ridgeline fence I spotted another mob in the next paddock over.
Cue a repeat of the first scenario. At the end we had a momentary reflection on all the death and mayhem, feeling sorry for all those that had given their lives – many many rounds of ammo without their heads now jingling in our pockets… and I at last got the chance to reload… (mental note – you can NEVER have too much ammo…).
So back to the bike – it fired up first kick, blue smoke signals telling me it wanted to go somewhere and away it went. Onto some tracks that I have to admit were making me wonder if I should be trying them. A combination of mud, loose gravel, hard wet clay etc all had their challenges but I learned something very useful – the more you ride a bike, the better it knows how to do the job. Riding got easier throughout the day (and shooting got easier too – must have been a clever rifle). I’ve been riding and shooting long enough so clearly I have nothing to learn, yet things improved so I can only ascribe it to intelligent machines.
Anyway – with “goat stink” wafting up the valley, we stopped back to the house for lunch, talked a bit of BS let the barrels cool off and we were off to find another challenge for the mudbug (which this article is OBVIOUSLY about… Tui anyone?)
Ok – we found it – and we found it in spades. “You expect me to ride this thing… up… there?????“All right – I’ll give it a go but keep a quad behind me so I don’t get left behind. And up we went. The bike had obviously been listening and learning. It did a much better job this time than it had that very same morning with me on it. It seemed a lot more settled, assured, and secure. Bit of grass here and there, steep sections needing a run-up that veered left or right (and some straight ahead) after the crest all got easier and easier. I was impressed with the little thing and 1st or 2nd gear took me anywhere I wanted to go. I was mindful of the upcoming section though – we’d done a hell of a lot of “up”. And if I recall rightly that means a lot of the corresponding “down”.
The bike obviously needed to learn “down”. It was HOPELESS at first. I was doing all I can to keep it on the track and safely navigate rocks bumps etc but it managed. The brakes were good enough and while they were used judiciously… anytime a goat made an appearance they got a good workout. The trigger guard from the 308 was beating itself slowly through my left kidney but at least there was ammo in the gun (which the goats hated). They protested by lying down when it went bang.
Up hill and down dale for the rest of the ride. Bog all fuel used, and it didn’t miss a beat and didn’t lie down on me once. I was proud of it – cheap to buy, cheap to run and the goats worst nightmare. The sun was setting just as we hit the track for home, and(of course) someone stopped in a hurry – pointing up (and I mean UP) to the right. Mr Man with his whizzy range finder… 200m… 207 to the billy. Bang bang … bang b-bang bang bang… billy is down but very sore, dead nannies displaying their understanding of gravitational influences on limp carcases.
So Billy’s having bad time, and takes comfort by lying down on rock (recall… we’re looking UP to him so he’s not too visible…). Do the decent thing… finish him off…. Bang b-bang-bang b-b-b-bang. Bits of dust flying, failing light… and the cry of a sinlge goat way the hell away… so (puffs out chest) ol’ JAFA here chambers another round… bang… silence followed by “that was a good shot…” from the farmer.
Back to the bike - I’d love to speak to the engineers about the thing. They’ve hidden a brain on this thing somewhere which helped the bike adapt to me (I’m an experienced rider – therefore I obviously have nothing to learn per the KB mantra.)
I need to speak to the rifle maker too – same reasons.