After about 2 months of souless riding, I finally seemed to get my Mojo back. It probably didn't help that the only riding i've done in that time has been soul-sucking communtering, and i'd managed to square off the tyres on my beloved Street Triple. It seemed almost cruel to be doing so many miles to and from work, and no real playtime.
So after blowing close to a grand on the Striple yesterday (Pilot Road 2CTs $620, 1 Year Rego $320. I mean really? $940? I felt like someone pissed in my cornflakes), I took her out to scrub in the new tyres, and lo-and behold, I managed to find my biking grin again. After the third lap of the Wellington bays, I pulled into Wellington Motorcycles, partly to have a look in there as i'd only ever been in there once before for about 30 seconds, and mostly, to relieve my bursting bladder.
After pulling up outside the shop, I was suprised as the footpath was flooded with people, drinking a brown liquid that resembled some rather suspicious looking coffee. Obviously a hangout for Harley owners, with the very shiny polished chrome lumps in the showroom windows, and a mass of Accountants milling around the bikes. So after splashing my boots, I had a quick look around the shop when I was accosted my a huge-hulk like man asking if he could help me. "My name is Clint" he bellowed at me. Too scared to say no, I stammered on about how pretty the Speed Triples were looking, and it was such a pity they didn't have any that weren't black.
"I'm afraid the 3 that we do have are all black" He thundered. "But if it's a naked bike your after, I have something that might be just up your alley. It's not British though, is that OK?" He questioned. "Uh. No worries" said I trying as to not appear too xenophobic. He then showed me to the B-King that was sitting proudly by the door.
This was the first time i'd seen one in the flesh (or aluminium composite?). My first impression was that it was massive (hang on, this is gonna sound ridiculous) in the Shoulder area (If the headlight is the head, then the tank and air scoops are the shoulders OK?). The tank itself didn't seem too big, but the air scoops that flanked it either side were on the verge of hilarity. It was massive. As he explained a little about the specs (and how it was the only bike that he'd managed to do a wheelspinning wheelstand on) I was somewhat amazed that this monstrosity was legal. Forget the anti-smacking law, just strap the little terrors to the back of one of these things and it should sort them out.
It was then, that he, completely unannounced asked "Wanna take her for a ride?" I stammered a little bit, and took a step backwards. It was unusual for someone to offer me a test ride straight off the bat, without a) first making me ask for one, and b) making me feel like i'd stolen the last chocolate eclair from out of their hands while they were being distracted by something shiny in the corner. "Sure" said I eager not to disappoint. We excahnged signatures and licenses, when he wheeled the bike away to be filled (to the top!) with petrol. What a champ. Once it was wheeled back to the curbside, it was then that I saw the back, of which is now legend. Imagine if you stuck your tongue into the electrical socket of your TV, while it was showing the latest episode of Dragonball Z, and your partner is lecturing you on the intracies of an MC Escher drawing. That's what the back end of a B-King looks like.
"Whatever you do, make sure you take it on the Motorway, and when you do hit the twisties, you'll be pleasantly suprised" Bellowed the hulk-like Clint over the drone of engine. I say drone, as in stock trim, the engine note seemed bland. For the fastest production naked-bike on the planet, I expected something a little more raucous and hooligan like. Then again, I do like the subtle grown of the three-pot Triumph, so maybe i've been spolied for too long. I suspect that the first thing anyone would do once they've purchased a beast like this would be to change the cans anyway.
Nice touches include a Gear Indicator, Digital Speedo, Analogue Tach, Fuel Guage, more lights than a Christmas tree and A & B Modes. I don't know what either of these modes did, but I left it in A Mode, which I assume, is Sissy mode.
Anyway, Geared up and ready to go, I swing a leg over, and take off very carefully from the curb-side. After the obligitary revving of the engine whilst sitting at traffic lights beside a bus full of poor people to show how cool I am, I take off very carefully and head towards the Motorway. Manage to catch a red light just before the terrace tunnel, so I split up to the front. Once it changes, I give it a subtle twist of the throttle, and all hell breaks loose. I'm doing xxxKm/h in 1st gear, change up into 2nd, and hit xxxKm/h (Speeds withdrawn to protect the guilty). As i'm hurtling to Tawa at twice the speed of sound, I realise that i've left most of my internal organs at the lights into the Terrace Tunnel. In fact, it was so fast, that I seem to have lost all the superlatives that i'd planned to use to talk about it with other people. The speed sucked them right outta my vocabularly.
The thing that I notice now is that even though it's a massive bike, i'm still having trouble fitting it. Those that know me will understand that i'm not the most dimunitive of people, but even then, I couldn;t fit me knees under the over-sized air scoops on the side of the tank. Not only did it mean I couldn't grip the tank with my knees, it also made them stick out past the already wide bike, and into the territory of cramp rather quickly.
Off the Motorway, and off to pick up the Missus. She jumps on the back, and immediately states that it's no way near as comfortable as the Striple. The pillion seat is smaller, and not as nice apparently. We find some twisties, and lo and behold, Clint's voice comes back into my head Yoda-style. It really does handle very well. The fuelling is perfect, and very smooth, and the brakes are outragously good. It's really is incredible flickable for a bike that I imagined to have supertanker like handling capabilities. Vibrations get quite bad for pillions too says the little one on the back, although the engine does make a little more entertaining noises higher up in the rev range. All up, I think I only used 3 gears the whole time, and even that was sending me well over and above the license-shredding threshold.
Back to Wellington Motorcycles where i'm suprised to see the same people milling around the shop front with brown liquids in teir hands that were standing there 3 hours ago. Maybe they were looking for their missing teeth. (For the love of God i'm kidding. But seriously, a few of them didn't have many.) Flick the keys back to WWF-stature Clint and start gushing over how much fun it was, and how completely out of left-field it was. I was expecting something that big and powerful to be a menace on the roads, but it was very enjoyable, apart from the Air Scoops.
Would I buy one? If I won Lotto, yes. But to understand this bike, you must first ride it.
Cheers again to the guys at Wellington Motorcycles, you haven't seen the last of me yet.
B-King wins. Flawless victory.
Apart from the Air Scoops.
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Originally Posted by Gubb
: 
Karma ... Justice catches up eventually !! 
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