Month: March 2020

Science of Being Seen – Part 2

Posted on | by Salli Griffith

 

Looked but Could Not See

In the moments leading up to a SMIDSY, we can usually see the car. We can often see the driver. Ergo, we assume the driver should be able to see us ‘if he looks properly’. It’s the obvious, common-sense, conclusion.

It may be obvious. It may be common-sense… but it’s often wrong.

In fact, in over one-third of collisions involving a car and a two-wheeler, the bike was out of sight at some point of the run-up.

Now, before I go any further with my explanations, I want to make clear that explaining how and why drivers make mistakes is NOT ‘shifting the blame’ for the SMIDSY collision onto the motorcyclist.

The driver still has a responsibility to avoid making mistakes, and maybe you think the answer is that drivers should ‘look harder for bikes’ but it’s not as simple as it sounds. Have a think about what we all do when pulling out of a side turning – we’re looking left and right, back and forth, possibly watching ahead if we are at a crossroads, probably keeping an eye on cyclists and pedestrians too. Although we do this almost without effort once we’re through the learning stage, even motorcyclists pull out in front of other bikes.

As the ones far more likely to get hurt, what matters to us is seeing it coming and getting out of trouble if there’s the remotest chance. As I said in my first column for MAG years ago, ‘it takes Two to Tangle’; if the driver sets up the circumstances in which a collision CAN occur, we still have to RIDE INTO IT for it to happen. Mid-emergency, blame is irrelevant. We can leave the lawyers to sort that out later.

So let’s start by understanding just how a motorcycle can vanish from sight.

A typical motorcycle is one-third of the width of a car and can easily be hidden, particularly on busy city streets. Maybe other vehicles block the drivers view, particularly if we are filtering or moving alongside parked vehicles. We can vanish behind a tree, a telephone box, even people standing on a street corner.

Sometimes the bike is obscured by the car itself. The framework supporting the windscreen – the A pillars – are significantly thicker on modern vehicles. Those in my partner’s car are about the size of my palm. Stand in front of your motorcycle, hold your hand up in front of your face and see just how close you can get and not see your own motorcycle. The distance should alarm you. So if the driver looks in our direction and the view is blocked by the A pillar, the driver won’t know we’re there.

So now angles are important. Imagine approaching a car already waiting to turn at a junction. If the car’s at right angles to us, then the driver can look out the side window. Or if the car is facing us, waiting to turn into the side road, the driver’s looking out the windscreen.

But what if the side road is at an angle, or the driver has angled the vehicle? At the right (wrong?) angle, the A pillar can partially block the view down the road. And from our palm experiement, we know how close we can get and still be invisible. The B pillar supporting the doors can play the same trick when glancing back over the shoulder.

What if both vehicles are moving? Then another, more complex, problem known to sailors as the ‘constant bearing’ problem can arise.

Here’s what happens. If two vessels are sailing on a collision course, then there’s no movement across the background – the bearing between them stays constant. The same can happen if a bike and a car are both moving towards a junction. Since the angle stays the same, there’s no movement across the background to help the driver detect the motorcycle in the first place. But if their relative positions put the bike in the blind spot created by the A pillar, then it will remain invisible almost to the moment of collision.

This seems to explain many roundabout collisions and near-misses. Most of us approach a roundabout hoping to keep moving, so we look, don’t see anything, and drive straight onto the roundabout. That’s when we discover that there’s been another vehicle in the blind area the entire time.

I started off by saying we don’t have to ride into these collsions. A big plus of riding a motorcycle is that we usually have a better view than a driver. It’s rare we have zero view of the car that’s about to pose a threat.

We need to work out the driver’s likely line-of-sight. If we can see the front of a car (but not the driver) then our bike isn’t where the driver can see it. If we can see that the A pillar is sitting directly in the driver’s line-of-sight, then we can anticipate he can’t see us.

And then we do something proactive to avoid the ‘looked but failed to see’ error making mincemeat of us. We can slow down, change position, sound the horn and be ready to take evasive action.

To say that too many riders fail to take these simple precautions and consequently get caught out isn’t ‘blaming the rider’ but it’s hard not to think that our response in an emergency needs to be better than ending up in a heap repeating the tired old complaint ‘the driver didn’t look properly’.

We’ve been saying that for one hundred years and it’s not solved the problem yet.

Kevin Williams / Survival Skills Rider Training www.survivalskills.co.uk

© K Williams 2020

The Science Of Being Seen – the book of the presentation £9.99 plus P&P and available now from: www.lulu.com

 

The ‘Science Of Being Seen’ is a presentation created in 2011 for Kent Fire and Rescue’s ‘Biker Down’ course by Kevin Williams.

Biker Down is now offered by over half the nation’s FRSs as well as the UK military, and many deliver a version of SOBS.

Kevin personally presents SOBS once a month for KFRS in Rochester.

He toured New Zealand in February 2018 delivering SOBS on the nationwide Shiny Side Up Tour 2018 on behalf of the New Zealand Department of Transport.

Find out more here: https://scienceofbeingseen.wordpress.com

Is Motorcycle Journalism Broken?

Posted on | by Nick Tasker

A family relative recently advised me that they would be cancelling their subscription to a mainstream motorcycle magazine, commenting that they found my own reviews more useful and interesting than those written by apparently more experienced and certainly more professional motorcycle journalists. He complained that the reviews were all overly positive, with no real-world detail or relevance to himself as a motorcyclist.

Naturally, I was extremely flattered but advised him that he should temper his criticism somewhat given that, in many ways, I had a much easier job than writers who needed to earn a living doing this stuff. Let’s not forget that I write for both my blog and for Slipstream as a hobby, as a critically-minded enthusiast of all things two-wheeled. Then again, I too have issues with motorcycle journalism as it is delivered elsewhere – it’s one of the reasons I started writing about bikes in the first place. After all, if you want something done right, you’ve got to do it yourself.

So let’s examine some of the claims and see if they’re just baseless rumours, or if there’s some fire behind the smoke.
Magazines are paid-off by manufacturers!

I’ve heard from sources in the industry that this has happened in the past. It may persist in some quarters today, though editors I’ve heard from hotly deny it. My suspicion is that any coercion was and remains far more indirect, as motorcycle magazines are generally dependent on three things to survive:

a) Magazine sales
b) Press bikes
c) Advertising revenue

Online sources rarely have access to direct sales or subscriptions, with most content being delivered for free, but also have significantly reduced distribution costs. Printing and shipping magazines around the country isn’t cheap! Web media also have access to a far wider – often global – audience, although language barriers still restrict readership. There have certainly been instances when advertisers have threatened to pull advertisement spending unless the product is reviewed favourably, and editors have had to make some very difficult commercial decisions.

I’m certainly going to continue being suspicious of glowing reviews of products that are advertised on the same page(s) of a publication that is making money advertising said products. Then again, sometimes stuff is just awesome, and an accompanying advertisement is merely a coincidence. I would like to think that my own record speaks for itself, and I can certainly promise that I would sooner refrain from reviewing a product at all than write an artificially biased piece. Any advertisers wishing to promote their clients or products in Slipstream are welcome to get in touch but should be advised that favourable coverage must be earned, rather than bought.

Press Bikes are another issue. Magazines, both online and print, rely on free loans of the motorcycles and products that they write about – buying an example of every new item would be prohibitively expensive and uneconomically viable, given their current business model. There are some exceptions – me included – who stick to writing about bikes and products they’ve purchased or borrowed from dealers, limiting our scope but freeing ourselves from our dependence on the continuing goodwill of their providers. I’m aware of at least one publication that can no longer get access to Yamaha products, for example, after they wrote one too many scathing words about the company’s motorcycles.

Working in the Marketing/PR industry myself, I have to say that such childish responses seem counter-productive. Far from cowing the journalists in question, it’s simply guaranteed that their negative appraisal of the company’s products can never be reassessed in light of new developments. The journalist in question is still writing gleefully about how Yamaha sulkily took their toys and went home, and aren’t being given the chance to ride newer bikes they might enjoy and therefore write about more positively. You can’t hide anything on the internet, so a negative review simply helps put the positive ones into context and improves their perceived legitimacy.

Unfortunately, I suspect that there are a few journalists (and certainly plenty of influencers) who are at least partially cowed by these implied (or even explicit) threats and choose to tone down any criticism, attempting to balance their editorial integrity with their desire for press fleet access. You can learn to read between the lines on such pieces, but it certainly cheapens their value and limits their usefulness to the informed consumer.

My reviews depend exclusively on loan bikes from dealers across the country, and I’ve occasionally travelled significant distances for a few hours on a rare bike I wanted to write about. I also tend not to bother riding or reviewing bikes I don’t expect to enjoy, meaning that my more scathing pieces are written out of disappointment rather than schadenfreude. That being said, I’m sure there are one or two manufacturers who have blacklisted me in advance, just in case I do ever get in touch

Journalists are out of touch with owners!

As mentioned earlier, few – if any – motorcycle journalists have paid with their own money for the bikes they are reviewing. If they had, we’d have to worry about a different kind of bias creeping in. In the same way that few parents will admit that their own children are anything less than perfect angels, it can take a long time for someone to admit that their new bike has any faults whatsoever. And in truth, the reality is that modern motorcycles are all pretty good.
I may only ride each bike I review for a couple of hours, and there’s certainly a skill to quickly evaluating all aspects of a motorcycle that I’ve had to develop. Journalists with access to press fleets may have a bike for a few days or even a couple of weeks, and some publications occasionally run a long-term bike for months and thousands of miles. The longer someone spends with a bike, the wider the variety of circumstances and environments in which they use it, the more likely they are to expose any flaws in the design. In my case, even a positive review is intended to encourage a test ride rather than a blind purchase, and I always try to be clear on when I am speaking from direct experience and when I am merely speculating based on limited data.

Unbeholden to advertisers, I can deliver an unvarnished report (eg: not a fan of this Road King)

But even a long-term loan isn’t the same as handing over your own credit card. That is why the test-ride is so important. Even a professional journalist who tries to speak objectively is unlikely to ever be considering a bike they review for a personal
purchase. Motorcycle Journalism doesn’t pay particularly well, and with a constant conveyor belt of new bikes to ride, rarely have they the means or the need to buy a brand-new motorcycle for themselves. Some journalists are better than others, of course, but I challenge any of them to say, hand on heart, that they are as careful and critical of their analysis when their verdict will have no impact on them personally or financially. Every motorcycle I review for Slipstream is a bike I seriously considered buying, and long-time readers will note that my archives are littered with proof that I am occasionally sufficiently impressed to open my wallet.
I am convinced that this disconnect between purchasers and principle public mouthpieces is one of the reasons we’ve seen the average transaction price of motorcycles creep up over the last couple of decades. It’s no surprise that every BMW motorcycle delivered to reviewers is the fully-equipped top-of-the-range version. As a result, it’s equally unsurprising that the lucky journalists who get to ride these technological wonders are almost universally impressed by the experience. Personally, I’m far more impressed when a manufacturer can deliver a great experience on the cheap – it takes far more skill than simply throwing money at the problem.
I once saw MCN unfavourably compare a £10,000 V-Strom 1000 to a brace of £15,000 alternatives. Not once was the cost differential mentioned as a factor, nor some sort of weighting system used during the final scoring. That’s a bit like telling me a million-pound mansion is more comfortable than a £100 tent; quelle surprise! Yes, PCP has hidden this cost differential for many people, but that’s no excuse for ignoring the price entirely.

Judging by the sales numbers, far more of us are riding older bikes than brand new ones.

But even a long-term loan isn’t the same as handing over your own credit card. That is why the test-ride is so important. Even a professional journalist who tries to speak objectively is unlikely to ever be considering a bike they review for a personal
purchase. Motorcycle Journalism doesn’t pay particularly well, and with a constant conveyor belt of new bikes to ride, rarely have they the means or the need to buy a brand-new motorcycle for themselves. Some journalists are better than others, of course, but I challenge any of them to say, hand on heart, that they are as careful and critical of their analysis when their verdict will have no impact on them personally or financially. Every motorcycle I review for Slipstream is a bike I seriously considered buying, and long-time readers will note that my archives are littered with proof that I am occasionally sufficiently impressed to open my wallet.

I am convinced that this disconnect between purchasers and principle public mouthpieces is one of the reasons we’ve seen the average transaction price of motorcycles creep up over the last couple of decades. It’s no surprise that every BMW motorcycle delivered to reviewers is the fully-equipped top-of-the-range version. As a result, it’s equally unsurprising that the lucky journalists who get to ride these technological wonders are almost universally impressed by the experience. Personally, I’m far more impressed when a manufacturer can deliver a great experience on the cheap – it takes far more skill than simply throwing money at the problem.

I once saw MCN unfavourably compare a £10,000 V-Strom 1000 to a brace of £15,000 alternatives. Not once was the cost differential mentioned as a factor, nor some sort of weighting system used during the final scoring. That’s a bit like telling me a million-pound mansion is more comfortable than a £100 tent; quelle surprise! Yes, PCP has hidden this cost differential for many people, but that’s no excuse for ignoring the price entirely.

Motorcycles are still very diverse, so these generalist magazines have many different journalists on the books, each one with their own preferences and biases, each predisposed to look favourably upon certain brands or types of motorcycle. They also tend to be more familiar with the bikes they personally enjoy, and it therefore makes sense that a magazine editor would send their sports bike junkie to review the new Kawasaki ZX10R, rather than the weatherworn touring enthusiast. This means that each review is written by the journalist most likely to enjoy each bike, and least likely to question the core tenets of its philosophy.

A Kawasaki H2SX would likely be labelled as overweight and slow to turn by someone who preferred dedicated track bikes, and a relaxed touring enthusiast would flay it for its appalling fuel economy and missing top box. And while it might be amusing to read such reviews, it wouldn’t really provide any useful information to anyone. Of course, anyone who hasn’t figured out what sort of bikes they like won’t glean any useful data from a slew of universally positive reviews either. Match the right journalist to the bike and you’ll learn that every bike has good brakes, handles well, gets acceptable fuel economy and is sufficiently comfortable for longer rides. Everything is relative, unfortunately, and what’s comfy or economical from one person’s perspective might be considered shockingly poor from another.

I wear my biases openly, usually opening my articles with statements explaining what I was looking for in each case. I try to detail the parameters I consider good for each aspect and make sure to explain why I do or don’t like something about a particular motorcycle. I’m predisposed to favour less expensive, less powerful bikes, and value practicality, reliability and longevity over outright performance. I’m suspicious of technology for technology’s sake, and my particular physiology means I don’t find sports bikes comfortable, so I’ll probably never bother reviewing one – you already know it’s not going to be a positive write-up.

One big difference, however, is that I am aware of my biases, and can use that information to improve my objectivity. Even if I don’t like a bike, or rather, decide that it’s not fit for my particular purpose, I’ll always do my best to speculate about the purposes for which it might be suited. My hope is that this will help my readers draw their own conclusions and inform their own decisions. I can give friends and family members more personal advice because I know what their particular biases and preferences are, and can more accurately gauge which bikes I think they would enjoy or would fulfil their needs.

I’m afraid I don’t know you. You’ll have to make up your own mind.

 

A Different Type of Riding (Part 5: Putting it to the test)

Posted on | by Nick Tasker

Turns out an oversized scooter makes an excellent two-up touring bike.

While I ride some motorcycles purely out of a sense of curiosity, newcomers to this site may not realise that, in many cases, I’m simply documenting the process by which I search for my next bike. I usually have very specific requirements, and I’m always very, very picky.

In this case, I had a very specific objective. To achieve it, I first tried out a Honda Forza 300, then a Harley-Davidson Sport Glide, before finding what I was looking for in a Yamaha T-Max 530. That meant that it was time to put my money where my mouth was and bring home a very lightly-used 2-year-old matte-black ‘DX’ variant of my very own. Buying used always carries risks, and I assumed I was relatively safe given that Yamaha regularly tops reliability surveys. And with just 2,300 miles on the odometer there weren’t a lot of opportunities for the previous owner to have abused the bike before I took ownership.

Sadly, the honeymoon period lasted just 24 hours before an electrical fault prevented the bike from starting after I rolled it out of the garage the very next morning. As you might imagine, I was fairly aggravated, but a private sale of a just-out-of-warranty vehicle left me with no recourse. Without a wiring diagram it quickly became apparent that I was stuck, and none being publicly available for such a new bike I gave in and paid my local Yamaha dealer to take it away.

Six hours of labour later the technicians finally traced the broken wire buried under the fairing and I was back in business, albeit with my wallet somewhat lighter. Still, their exhaustive search meant that any other potential gremlins have clearly been driven off, as my new T-Max has been faultless in the 4,000 miles since – many of which were under fairly extreme conditions.

My intention was to use the T-Max for a two-up low-speed 3,000-mile tour of the Italian and Austrian Alps, which my girlfriend and I set off for as August drew to a close. Luggage proved to be more of a challenge than expected, with the official Yamaha top box inexplicably on indefinite back-order, and the aftermarket racks too ugly for me to seriously contemplate. I was able to track down the smaller of the two options from a German dealer and made do by moving some day-to-day items to a ‘Tunnel Bag’, a sort of scooter tank bag that wedges between your legs. I took the under-seat storage, she claimed the top box, and we packed light.

Engine performance was sufficient for the intended task, with the DX-exclusive throttle modes proving more useful than expected. ‘T’ is very relaxed, exacerbating the already rubber-band-like throttle response of the constantly-variable transmission. Perfect for rolling on and off the power while trundling around, but also responsible for making slow-speed manoeuvres even more difficult than usual. In contrast, ‘S’ mode is considerably sharper than the only engine mode on the standard T-Max I reviewed, and it was quite a shock the first time I tried it out.

The engine reacts instantly, and the CVT’s design ensures that peak power and torque are delivered to the rear wheel at all times. With a relatively light curb weight of 215kg – the same as my V-Strom 650 – the T-Max shoots forwards immediately, the rate of acceleration defying its 45bhp peak power figure. Coupled with the surprisingly supple and controlled suspension, I was able to keep up with far more powerful motorcycles when blasting around solo. Two-up the power deficit becomes more apparent, with engine response far more sluggish and a noticeably reduced top speed.

Buying used means that the previous owner pays the 30% depreciation.

Yamaha claim 100mph is possible, but with the electronically-adjustable windshield at maximum and a top-box and pillion adding extra weight and drag this is clearly a fantasy. I set the electronic cruise control to a GPS-verified 130km/h as we blasted down the French autoroutes, but with the bike loaded this way the computer was unable to maintain those speeds during some of the steeper sections to the east of the country. Still, this extreme stress-test does mean that the kevlar-rubber belt transmission is clearly up to the task.

… but a private sale leaves you with zero recourse if something goes wrong.

Suspension proved itself to be just as impressive two-up and loaded with luggage as it had when riding solo. That being said I was disappointed to discover that even maxing out the preload on the rear shock could not maintain the chassis attitude, sagging a few degrees under our combined 130kg. On darker days and in tunnels I was regularly flashed by oncoming drivers convinced I had left my high-beams on, and the maximum 45-degree lean angles were noticably reduced. The centrestand touches down first on the T-Max, and with very little give it would be very easy to lift the bike off the ground on sharper bends. I think a stronger spring or new shock may be in the T-Max’s future.

Brakes are another area that proved adequate for the task at hand, even if they aren’t up to enthusiastic use when fully-loaded. With the centre of gravity so low in the vehicle, there’s not a great deal of weight transfer, limiting total braking before the ABS cuts in. Braking felt perfectly safe and stable in most realistic circumstances, but the feedback from the chassis, suspension and brakes advises against hooligan behaviour. If you’re a quick rider, and like to ride as fast two-up as you do solo, then this might be the bike for you.Fuel economy seems enormously variable. Spirited, mixed solo riding returns around 55-60mpg, and relaxed two-up touring sits in the 60-70mpg range. The full-speed autoroute trip drained the 15-litre tank in just over 100 miles, meaning that we were filling up once an hour and just scraping 40mpg. Later experiments at slightly reduced cruising speeds saw economy climb into the low 50’s, proving that no engine is truly efficient when running at its absolute design limits.

Comfort and stability were fantastic. The electric screen allowed me to dial out wind noise under the vast majority of conditions and the seats were comfortable for hours and hours of riding for both rider and pillion. I would prefer the handlebars be set further back, but then I do have notoriously short arms, and at 5’8” I was easily able to stretch out my legs on the spacious footboards. The wide seat meant that I had to settle for tiptoes on either side at a stop, but putting a single foot down flat is perfectly possible with the other on the boards. The weight is held low in the chassis, so balancing when stationary is much easier than it would be for a similarly-weighted adventure bike.

Oil changed, suspension adjusted, luggage packed and ready to go!

There are only two “modes”, but unlike many bikes they’re both different and useful.

Handling wise you’re limited by the slightly odd-feeling front-end. The low centre of gravity means limited weight transfer, so the T-Max handles a little bit like a telelever-equipped BMW; you just have to learn to trust it. That being said, turn-in is sharp and light, with the smaller 15” wheels providing less gyroscopic resistance than the 17-19” rims most motorcyclists are used to. Ground clearance only seems to be an issue if overloaded or riding excessively enthusiastically, and in ‘S’ mode the engine is responsive enough to allow you to maintain positive throttle through bends. Conversely, ‘T’ mode adds enough lag to discourage faster lines through corners, and I don’t recommend attempting hairpins or other low-speed manoeuvres with the throttle set this way.

It’s worth noting that the T-Max’s automatic clutch disengages at around 12mph on a closed throttle, resulting in a sudden loss of engine braking – very disconcerting if you’re following slower traffic through a downhill hairpin. I recommend trailing the rear brake all the way through such bends with the throttle partly open to maintain control. While it’s definitely easier to execute accurate manoeuvres with a clutch, you can certainly learn to work around the foibles.

The advantages are that you never have to change gear, never wear out your left hand in traffic, and are never going to find yourself in the wrong gear on an uphill hairpin. Instead, you can focus on your Roadcraft, maintaining the right lines while enjoying the stunning scenery. Whether rolling through sleepy Italian towns or dicing through Alpine passes with sportsbikes and adventure bikes, the T-Max never missed a beat, and the only times I wished for more power were when overtaking faster-moving traffic.

More relaxed touring returned acceptable, if not hugely impressive numbers.

Back home I’ve filtered down the motorway and into central London with ease, collected groceries using the cavernous underseat storage, and genuinely enjoyed a few twisty back-road blasts. An adventure bike is still a better all-round motorcycle, and for many riders a big scooter might be a step too far if they enjoy enthusiastic riding on solo trips. Even on days when my girlfriend and I broke from the rest of the group and did our own thing, we never once found ourselves wishing we’d brought something bigger, faster or more expensive. What’s more, I’ve since taken the T-Max out on some local loops and can confirm that I had no less fun than when riding the same roads on my proper bikes.What won’t come as a surprise to BMW or Harley-Davidson riders is the sheer joy at not having to lubricate a drive chain at the end of a day’s ride, nor having to scrub oily residue off the rear wheel and surrounding fairings at every wash. The belt drive certainly has its disadvantages; if it ever needs replacing, the part alone is more than £300. But Yamaha does not quote a replacement mileage, merely an inspection interval, and I’ve spoken to Harley-Davidson owners who are still on their original belt at 75,000 miles. Pulleys weigh more than sprockets, and the whole arrangement saps power over a traditional chain. If you get unlucky and pick up a piece of gravel it’ll punch a hole right through it, but all things considered, it’s a compromise I’m happy to make.

The release button on the glovebox door became very sticky after a couple thousand miles and needed lubricating with silicone oil, and the 2-amp fuse on the 12v socket popped when I tried to top up one of my tyres using my compressor. The toolkit is extremely lightweight, containing only a screwdriver and a couple of Allen keys. Notably missing is the hex-key driver necessary to access the battery compartment, which would spell disaster if you managed to flatten the battery while away from home. You can’t bump-start a vehicle with an automatic clutch.

No chain to oil and so far almost 7,000 miles with no adjustments needed.

Not an inch of wasted space; I’m not looking forward to the valve clearance check…

I’d argue that servicing is both expensive and unnecessarily frequent, with an oil change every 3,000 miles, more substantial checks every 6,000 and even more work at the 12,000-mile mark, which also includes replacement of the internal CVT-belt. Labour charges add up quickly with so much bodywork to remove, and Yamaha’s prices for parts and consumables are fearsome. On the other hand, oil changes are easy, with Yamaha providing full instructions in the owner’s manual, and resetting the service reminder can be done simply through the dashboard.

I was able to figure everything out in the end, and in truth it’s simply a very compact motorcycle squeezed under some unconventional bodywork. Given how few of these are sold in the UK, it’s quite likely that the only difference between you and your local Yamaha mechanics are that they don’t have to pay to access the service manual. I may cave in when the valve check is due, as there’s not a lot of space to work with, but I have until the 24,000-mile service to make up my mind about that.

The tyres probably have another 2,000-3,000 miles in them, but uneven wear has affected turn-in slightly. A new set of Michelin Pilot Road 4’s are waiting in the garage, the newer version in the series not yet available in the T-Max’s smaller 15” wheel sizes. I’m also tempted to try a more aggressive pad compound, or braided hoses, for the front brakes and would like a more adjustable rear shock. But I have to remember that I didn’t buy this bike for high-speed hijinks, and that any upgrades need to be entirely focused on the mission for which it was purchased.

And on that score, the T-Max is an absolute triumph. Yes, it’s down on power compared to what most fully-qualified motorcyclists are used to, and no, the seating position isn’t for everyone. At the end of the day, you have to be honest with yourself about which features and specifications you’re insisting on out of habit or misplaced pride, and perhaps consider that there are alternatives to conventional wisdom, because it turns out that you don’t need a 1.3-litre 150-horsepower motorcycle to go climb mountains with your partner; a 530cc scooter works just fine.

Nick Tasker
First published in Slipstream February 2020

From The Chair (March 2020)

Posted on | by Andy Slater

It’s always dangerous, when writing for the March Slipstream edition, to look forward to the start of the new riding season. The daffodils may be out but last year we had the ‘Beast From The East’ in March and we all sat in St Crispin’s that month watching the snow come down. Still one brave rider made it in on a mini bike!

So I won’t go on about the weather warming up and for many riders that will mean wheeling out their trusty steed after a winter in the garage or under a tarp. Of course there’s no need to mention the POWDDERSS checks that they will all be carrying out before blasting off on that first run down the lanes, as being Advanced Riders they will be conscious their own skills will have gone off a little – just like the pressure in those tyres. So take it easy, warm up yourself, and stay safe, there’s a whole season of riding to come.

What I will write about though is a dusty corner of the TVAM online filing system which can be found on groups.io/allmembers/files/database. This is where the cafe database can be found with a list of cafes and lunch stops which are biker friendly. There’s even a map so you can use them to plan a route, or just pop over with a mate to check them out.

There’s a few missing, such as Saddleback Farm Shop Cafe just south of Wantage on the B4494 which has become popular with members over the past few years. A great farm shop serving bacon sarnies and a selection of lunches with great views over the Wantage Downs but often missed by bikers blasting down that wonderful road. Also new ones have opened, for example the Rosebourne Garden Centre Cafe at Aldermaston, which has a great selection of drinks and cakes with easy parking.

Probably my favourite though is The Pantry at Yattendon. Frequently passed by those using the lovely B4009 road out from Newbury towards Reading via Hermitage. Yattendon is that slow bit as you ride through the narrow village but why not stop and have a break? Parking is a bit tight outside the village shop but the homemade cakes are to die for and you can sit outside in a little garden enjoying the sun whilst they prepare your drinks. The database needs your input. If you know of a great little place that welcomes bikers, that isn’t in the database yet, let others know about it by emailing Keith Miller at cafedatabase@tvam.org giving details and he will enter it into the database for you.

So on the promise the weather is going to be great this season – get out and try some new stopping places with a few mates.

Keep the shiny side up.

Andy Slater
Chairman