Hanne

So it seems my bike is dead set on convincing me that the age-old adage ‘older and wiser’ really does hold some water. Or petrol, in any case. My wee AX is actually only two years my senior, but boy does she contain some quick pistons. Let me explain.

Incident One.
Let’s make something clear. I was not sure I wanted this bike. At first I approached our relationship with rather a lot of trepidation, and a good dollop of mistrust. Losing 150cc from my last bike and 550cc from the bike I had been riding about really didn’t seem like an attractive prospect and it didn’t help that upon first meeting my new steed Squiggles kicked her over and promptly blew all the bulbs. Trust? Well, I was prepared to touch her, but not to get too close. Then the bike started to talk to me.

It was Wednesday evening. Riding home along Mt Eden Road, the bike started making rather strange noises. Losing power. Throttle reacting like a dead fish. Yep, fuel tank was empty, such a n00b mistake. Only this was no mistake! The AX finally cut out right outside the G.A.S station. It just so happened that the attendant at said G.A.S station was absolutely MAD about the AX100. He spent a good ten minutes extolling the virtues of the bike to me and all the other customers in line behind me as I went to pay for gas, reminiscing about the thousands of kms he had ridden on such a bike in his native India. This was the first sign. The bike, drawn by the man’s AX-loving auro, cut out right at that point just to prove to me that there are people in the world who think it is awesome. This bike has no confidence issues, it just needed to convince me.

Incident Two
So, after incident one I did realise that something was probably up. Over the next few weeks the AX and I slowly got to know each other better. And apparently the bike is a very good judge of character. Why? Well, I used to ride to work. Two weeks into my new job the bike sensed what a bad situation I was walking into, and tried to warn me. Rather brutally, in fact. Hot exhaust beats tender calf flesh, hands down. After the pallava I have been going through over the last week (how an employer can be so completely oblivious to the existence of the Department of Labour and basic employment procedures I have no idea), I am starting to wish I had taken some more notice when the bike assaulted me. People talk, babies scream, and I guess this was the best tool the machine had in its communication toolbox at the time.

Incident Three
Most people would probably say that having broken brakes, rear-ending a car and landing on one’s head are not particularly positive occurrences. While it is true that the headache was not too pleasant, I have come to realise that this was ‘Poppy’’s final attempt to reach out and talk some sense into me. No, I haven’t given up riding or anything rash like that! I have, however, invested in a new helmet. Which is something I was planning on doing anyway, the bike just gave me a little hurry-up. Here’s some stand-on-your-head thinking for a minute… The car was fine. The bike was fine. In fact, the impact made the dash lights actually WORK, so you could say that the crash improved my bike. I was fine. And I have a new lid. The bike KNEW that said incident would see me buy a new helmet sooner rather than later. It also knew that I have not been studying at uni for 3 years only to be pronounced brain dead. Quite simply, the bike was ensuring I kept up my head insurance, which shows an awful lot of foresight on the part of the machine.

To Summarise: In the eight weeks I have owned it, my bike has run dry of petrol, scarred my limb and bucked me clean across the road. It belches blue smoke, barely cracks 90km/h and to get to the toolkit under the seat you need to remove the side panel using a screwdriver FROM said kit. And it has taught me that sometimes all you need in order to start enjoying a situation is to look at it through different eyes. ‘Poppy’ is no trail bike. She is no super sport sex-on-wheels. But she gets me about, and her clairvoyant skills have proved to be scarily accurate, even if the signs have been rather difficult to decipher. And if luck and omens come in sets of three, it would seem that we are now overdue for an exceedingly good run. Time will tell, and hopefully said time will endow us both with more wisdom to complement our years!