All *I* intended was brief trip to see me old Mum. Filial duty and all.
How was I to know that Petal would get the hots for a CBX750 passing on the motorway and go chasing after it. Brazen slut that she clearly is.
I was just a helpless pawn , a bystander along for the ride , unwittingly caught up in this farango of mechanical lust.
That's my story anyway and I'm sticking to it. Otherwise my Nana reputation could be severely compromised.
Either that or I plead temporary insanity. Lane splitting at 90mph is not something that I would do when sane !
What is it about two strokes that unleashes the hoon inherent in every motorcyclist? Take the most sober, grey haired, responsible, law abiding , cautious rider to be found. Put him on a two stroke and at the first ringa-ding-ding he'll be carving up the motorway, hoon fully unleashed. Perhaps the two stroke smoke has some narcotic quality? Anyway I'm certain of it, it's the ringa-ding-ding factor. Did anyone *ever* see a two smoker being ridden slowly?
I must say, too, that there is still something very satisfying about cracking the ton on a naked bike. Especially one with a mph speedo. Faired bikes are really rather boring, and 160kph just doesn't have the same cachet.
The old girl can still tramp too, when she picks up her skirts.
Is there anything in motorcycling more soul satisfying than nailing a big two smoker through a series of curves, 6000 rpm in second , with the engine making that wonderful banshee scream, and looking back and seeing the smoke still drifting up from the earlier corners. Pity about the handling, but then the kettles came from the factory with the shocks pre-shagged. And if they weren't wouldn't make much difference, the footpegs scrape anyway. Anyway it just makes it more exciting feeling the frame flex and twitch all the way through the corner.
I finally wrestled control back , by a Herculean effort, at Warkworth, when the CBX continued northward. And retired to the Bridge House pub, while Petal sat outside moaning and trembling, and flashing her jugs at the passing pushbikes. Insatiable trollop.
Very nice lounge it is , that place, too. Fearsome prices ,but. Still , a beer can be spun out for a long time, and it is a most pleasant place, with very tasty mini pizzas. Not another biker in sight though.
And back through Woodcocks Road. They've done it no favours sealing it though I suppose the sprotsbikers will like it now.
Very glad I was indeed to see Kaucop come into sight, having done my usual stupid trick of neglecting to fill up at Warworth. Splutter splutter 10 minutes down Woodcocks Rd, should I go back for petrol, nah, bound to get to a servo before I run out. And on and on we went, on reserve, surely must be one somewhere , hell wonder how big the reserve is, and on and on, oh shit, this is too big to push, wonder if any of those farm houses would sell me some, and on and on , why was I so stupid I should have turned back, maybe I still should, nah I must be half way by now, and on and on, oh lordy, slow down , delicate grip on throttle, bloody two strokes and their insane fuel consumption, and on and on, oh thank God, the sign to Kaucop and SH16, surely I could hitch from here if I have to , and on and on and THANK CHRIST IT'S A SERVO, AND IT'S OPEN.
After that definately deserved a beer at the Kaucop hotel. Half a dozen bikes parked up, none friendly. Girl behind the bar had damn nice tits though.
And on to Helensville, for another beer at the Grand Hotel. Friendly place, definately deserves patronage, how many pubs have Britten and BSA posters on the wall of the main bar?
And a slow and law abiding trip home.
Must say I was impressed by the number of helpful cagers who pulled over to let me past, especially so since the insane yellow paint fiend has been at work north as well as south.
Originally Posted by skidmark
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I grew up on waiheke and yes trying to hit the ton on onetangi straight is one of my fond memorys.
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