Take your bike swimming. Pt 1

[James Deuce]

Feckless, witless, unthinking, regurgitated slime mold from a catfish's belly. I'm fairly certain it's some sort of mold that's running the "safety" operation for the road works above Te Marua. There's certainly no evidence of a more highly evolved life form in charge.

Last Sunday we loaded the kids into the car and headed over to the Carterton A&P show. "Yeeehaw", I hear you sneer. No so fast there pardner, the show is always a hoot, especially when you have kids in tow. Remember "Shark Alley", full of leering Carnies, and blowfly infested Candyfloss? We didn't care about the sugar coated wildlife as kids because we were too wired from the sugar, and the flies added a sort of crunchy texture that made the 'floss last longer.

The fairground rides are almost criminally short, and really don't bear close inspection by an OSH officer, but when you were little the rides were huge, and went on and on, or at least until the nerd with the slicked down hair and horn-rimmed glasses puked his 'floss and flies over the kids in the teacups behind.

This year though we happened upon a cunning plan. Turn up two hours before the end of the show on the last day, get free rides on the Merry-Go-Round, watch the Show Jumping (One woman had two clear rounds, and was obviously a cut above the competition. She also said hello to my kids as she exited the paddock on her horse. That's how you get kids enthused about stuff), and then eat Hot Dogs with no stick, because the Carnies had put the shakedown on the other vendors and got rights to the sticks. WHAT THE??

I've taken to riding a bike when we go on family expeditions. It seems like a solitary thing to do, but the reality is that the kids sleep in the car, Heather gets to listen to Rickie Lee Jones (nice retrospective released just this month) instead of Mudvayne, and I get to do my favourite thing, all in the name of a Family outing. You gotta take it where you can get it folks, life is too short.

Mold. Ahhh yes. The Government in their infinite wisdom, generated by some fairly high powered thinking, and very high foreheads, have decreed that the roadways shall no longer be a place of fun for that Homo Sapiens Sapiens sub species, "Petrol Caput capitis". The section of road that led from Te Marua to Kaitoke used to be nationally reknowned. I remember an article in BRM where a writer described that whole section leading up to a hypothetical accident just past the Karting track, and being impressed at how well he described each corner, each gear change, and each choice of line and velocity that led to the accident. All done from memory. When I was a lad (Arrrrr) I would take a bike for a test ride, and give it some welly through this very stretch to test its handling, braking, steering, agility, and power spread. It really gave you that much scope in about 5kms of road.

Well, it's gone. No more learning how to powerslide 110HP RC30s on concrete Bridgestone Excrements, err Excedras, no more hitting dead possums at full peg scraping lean on a VFR400 so hard that a fairing panel pops off. No more running away from BMW R65 mounted cops on an RG250, denting an expansion chamber in the process and completly wearing through the fairing panel that covered the expansion chamber on a 160km/hr off camber sweeper. Machines and gravel, bored Stop/Go sign operators, and compacted earth have replaced memories with a roading engineer's answer to a problem that wasn't of our making, certainly not the making of those of us who celebrate skilled riding, and thoughtful risk taking behaviour. A road that the drones can pilot at 100km/hr has eaten the path that taught countless Wellington riders how to get the most from themselves and their machine.

On Sunday I found a section of the Paris-Dakar rally, right here in the Wellington. 9 ruts, spaced in such a way as to make front and rear suspension on the CB400 crash off bump stops front and rear at 30km/hr. If I'd hit them at 100km/hr I would have floated over them. I daresay that these ruts pose no problem to a car, or a long travel suspended dirt bike. In fact I was enjoying my self, standing up, and having a bit of a hoon, but being the "good" boy I've "grown" (shuddup WT) into I slowed down to 30-40km/hr when I saw the sign.

I bit my tongue on the second one. I was partially blinded by tears of pain as I smashed my way over the next seven twelve inch high berms at a slow enough speed that I felt every single bone in body swap places at least twice. If I hadn't been standing I would be visiting a clinic with suspected elephantiasis right now. Well I've done the seals in on the right rear shock, but to be honest, they were past their peak performance anyway and too softly sprung for my manly, well alright, blokey physique. After I pulled the spring for the right rear shock back onto the bottom stay and I have to say I didn't notice a dramatic decrease in damping capability. Looks like the CB is getting new rear shocks and springs then.

[mikey]

maybe some harley shocks eh jim

[James Deuce]

The rest of the ride over the hill was uneventful. No bulbs broken, no bits lost, and the only damage suffered was a bit oil seeping out of the right rear shock. It's actually a really good way to learn how to be smooth with the throttle and brakes having no rear damping. You have to time brake/throttle transitions in a way that minimises fore/aft pitching moments, and I think you actually probably end up going quicker than the old point and squirt method. The rear tyres were certainly working well, covered in little balls of rubber out to the edge, more from the hiding being dished out from the lack of rear suspension than anything. I had one of those dream runs where people either get out of the way, or are going so slow that 30 metres is all you need to get safely past.

The big hole in the fence, with the pink paint marks and the thick rubber streaks that got into the bank, off the bank, and straight througgh the fence certainly make you "think" though. 210 meteres that ute fell down the bank. 600 feet. Enough for a tight, but do-able base jump.

Once we'd done the show, we retired to the "family"(we don't do anything except eat Heather's folk's food) farm for a passable spicy pork dinner and I made sure I left early, giving myself plenty of daylight to get home (Plus I had to get home for Top Gear. Shhhhh.). Thunder and lightning of the blinding and deafening type had made itself present by now, and once I hit Greytown, then rain was coming down in buckets.

I love riding in the rain if I'm wearing gear that keeps me dry. I like the thought of being barely separated from the elements, actually out in it, but not quite of it. The smells were almost indescribable. Ozone from the electrical storm added its tang to the dense aroma of regenerating pasture, and while it was raining heavily, it was a clean rain, if that makes any sense. Big water droplets that sweep the filth from the road and the vehicles on it. I overtook a couple of truck and trailer units on the way to Featherston, mostly to get out of the wall of surf they were towing. Nearly made you want to stand on the front of the board as you drew alongside, just to pick up some more speed on the way down the wave. I swear I saw dolphins under a milk tanker.

The smells of the pasture gave way to the smells of wet loamy NZ bush. By now something weird had happened to my riding, something that usually happens in the wet. I could feel the front tyre contact patch moving around the tyre as the road camber changed, as I went went over bumps and potholes, and as I leaned as well. This only happens to me on wet rides, that I connect the man/machine interface well enough to ride without reference to gauges. I'm not wet, the little CB400 is doing things a bike is supposed to, and I'm enjoying riding over the Rimutakas in a blinding rainstorm.

The rain stopped abruptly just past the summit on the South side of the hill, the traffic returned, and people started behaving badly again. Very, very ocassionally one can transcend the ordinary riding experience, throwing the almost criminal destruction of the finest piece of roading, originally designed around bullock teams dragging equipment and supplies to creat the Fell Railway, into a ghastly relief. You can see bits of the old road, that had challenging corners that followed streambanks and natural terrain, down there below the level of the boring 70km/hr drone.

It makes me want to kick the Minister of Transport in the nuts, and emasculate every souless cretin determined to make our roads safer.

Or I could just drag them over the ruts that wrecked my cool little commuter's rear supension. Naked of course.

[James Deuce]

maybe some harley shocks eh jim

I reckon mate. If you see a Street Rod parked up, I liked those ones. They seemed to work OK. Nudge nudge, wink wink.

[skelstar]

Cool read. Thanks dude.

[Velox]

You're a bit of a Shakespeare mate - that was a beaut! Sucks about the suspension though.

When I was last up that way I almost shed a tear as I passed one of my favourite old sections of road - that uphill passing lane when you're heading back south. It was all still there below the sterile expanse of "road" that we're confined to now.

[DemonWolf]

Very well written.. enjoyed it... cheers =)

[MSTRS:Me]

Great write-up Jim2.
Just a nod to the wise tho.....the destruction of fine twisties is not in the name of safety. No sir. With the same posted speed limit, it is in the interests of encouraging greater speeds, the better to collect roadside taxes.

[Paul in NZ]

One thing both Vicki and I noticed while we were away beating the Moto Guzzi to death last 2 weeks was the decline in quality of the average Kiwi road.

I have no doubt that things like the straightening of the Kaitokes (sp) and the general decornering of the nations twisty main roads are in general a good thing, however.... The quality and durability of the actual road base the actual surface seems to be in decline.

If you ride an old school bike (like the Moto Guzzi) with limited suspension movement and zero 'suppleness' you really feel every bump and there seem to be more of these bumps every time. Not just little ones either but great big dangerous ones.

They (the powers that be) bang on about road safety and seem set to lower the speed limit at every opportunity but to me they have not kept up their end of the bargain in providing a good (and predictable) quality of road.

It may well be that the size and weight of the trucks now using these roads is a part of the problem (I suspect it is) but in that case something must be done. On a couple of occasions we were genuinely in danger of having an accident which I'm sure would have been blamed on speed....

[riffer]

Very Well written Mr Jim sir.

Most enjoyable read that had me in the moment.... would pass this on to Big Dave if I were you, its a shoe in for the next KR.

Bling allocated.

Couldn't agree more. You've obviously missed your calling mate. Give up the computers.

[sels1]

On Sunday I found a section of the Paris-Dakar rally, right here in the Wellington. .

Time for a dual purpose commuter??

Good write-up Jim

[Hitcher]

Thank you James. Although my thoughts on the demise of my beloved Kaitokes have been documented, the bluntness of my prose is further dulled by the brilliance of yours. Too many newbies have currently curbed my ability to award rep.

On the subject of carnie folk (who hail from Ngaruawahia, as a matter of trivial interest), my most enduring memory of the seemingly endless hectares of fairground attractions that comprised the Stratford A&P Show of my yoof, was the "wall of death" ride. I am sure that the Department of Labour's OSH fok, fun-curbing-mold that they are, have put the mockers unfairly and orthogonally on this source of entertainment...

[Hitcher]

Most enjoyable read that had me in the moment.... would pass this on to Big Dave if I were you, its a shoe in for the next KR.

I don't think KR would pay anything close to the true worth of James' eloquence.

[madboy]

Excellent effort there Jim. For the life of me I can't understand why you knackered the rear of the old Honda and not the rear of the new Yamaha... oh well...

My theory on Kaitoke is that Sir Trash did a deal with Transit to build a 5km stretch of road with a degree of difficulty slightly above a straight flat road so that he could practise a continuous wheelie the whole way through... wind permitting of course.