Relationship with ST1300 restored!
For my eighth birthday my parents bought me a tomahawk. I'd like to think that this gift somehow made me a better person and contributed greatly to me being the man I am today. However it more likely serves to reinforce the difference in the world of 1965 and that of 2006. Today, I suspect, any parent who gave a gift like this to an eight-year-old would, at the very least, get a visit from CYF or other members of the Thought Police...
Another difference between 1965 and 2006 is the motorcycle. In 1965 few New Zealanders would have heard of the name "Honda" in any context. Similarly the thought of a 1300cc V4 engine being included in a motorcycle of any sort would have been unimaginable. But it has, and it is.
Absence, it is said, makes the heart grow fonder. In my case I thought that absence had just merely exacerbated my general cantankerousness and cynicism. But mounting an ST1300 again after nearly four months and purring off into the late afternoon of a Thursday before Easter reaquainted me with many different emotions and several of the Seven Deadly Sins...
God, these things are good (ST1300s that is). Smooth, crisp, agile, stable, forgiving, potent and enveloping. The first couple of intersections reminded me that 310kg is indeed a decent lump of mass. But once moving, the ST just glides. Effortlessly.
How could I have so heartlessly spread such a paragon of motorcycling virtue along SH1 at Bulls on Boxing Day? I am unworthy.
So, back to Wellington we rode: me on an ST1300 and Mrs H on her Marauder -- a ride I had come to greatly enjoy over the past six weeks since my collarbone healed. The conditions were perfect. No wind, a balmy late afternoon of 17-19 degrees (information courtesy of the ST's meteorological service). The ocean and various inlets had almost glassy water -- the sun had just set behind the South Island. The traffic was well behaved. And I was riding an ST1300.
Good Friday morning, and I was up and off to Bulls to meet up with biker friends from Auckland (D&C on an ST1100). Again, perfect riding conditions. Travelling solo, the ST needed little encouragement to shame the near-stationary cagers in various tailbacks and to stretch its legs when conditions allowed...
Again the return journey was typified by perfect autumn afternoon riding conditions.
On Saturday morning, visitor D said "Let's go to Napier." Mrs H and I said "OK!" And, in the twinkling of an eye we had packed our toothbrushes and wallets and were Goff and off!
The Takas were in perfect order. It was nice to reacquaint the ST with The Hill. And moments later we were in Napier. Or so it seemed.
Yesterday (Easter Sunday) we rode up to Taupo with D&C, said our farewells and then rode home. For a total of 1350km of near-perfect weekend riding.
"The tomahawk. What was that all about?" you ask.
Cagers. That's what that was about. Not all of them. Some are stars, moving over to let bikes through and generally treating you with courtesy and respect. But then there are the brain-dead oafs -- the Troy Flavells of motoring. And then there are the women. One in particular of the latter was obsessed with killing Mrs H on our return home yesterday. Coming off the passing lane between Waikanae and Paraparaumu, she just had to get her MSD-funded Telstar between the two of us, and then followed Mrs H with a gap of less than 1m between them until the Paraparaumu lights where she turned off towards the beach to be reunited with her kids and pit bull. But after I had had a quiet word in her ear...
But anyway. I have got my ST1300 back. It is all the good things I had remembered -- and the front suspension is better. The rebound damping is superior to how it was before. Joy!
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Hey Mr H
Originally Posted by Sniper
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