Quite a milestone in our history.
We are very glad to welcome Keith to our club and know that he will enjoy his journey once the present situation is over, when he and the others who joined during March will get a chance to experience all that our great club has to offer.
We’ll see you all hopefully before too long.
First published in Slipstream April 2020
It was with great sadness that we learnt over the Easter weekend that Sir Stirling Moss, President of our Club had died after a long illness at the age of 90 years. Sir Stirling had been president since the early days of TVAM in the late 1980’s and we were proud of the association we had with such a figurehead in motor sport. We thank him for his support over the years.
Our thoughts are naturally with his family at this sad time.
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
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.
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
Unless you’ve been under a rock, you’ve probably heard of ‘Biker Down’. It’s an accident scene management and first aid course delivered to motorcyclists by many UK fire services. It’s been adopted by the military too.
There’s also a third pro-active safety module on Biker Down. Most teams run a presentation called the ‘Science Of Being Seen’.
You may not know where it came from.
I’m the author, Kevin Williams of Survival Skills Rider Training. I created the Science Of Being Seen (SOBS) in early 2012 for Kent Fire and Rescue, the originators of Biker Down. Later that year, we won a Prince Michael of Kent International Road Safety Award, plus an insurance industry award in 2013. Most Biker Down teams deliver a modified version of my SOBS presentation. I deliver SOBS monthly for KFRS, as well as clubs and groups around the south of England.
How did I come to put SOBS together? I’ll fill you in. Leaving London University with a science degree that wasn’t finding a job, I spent sixteen years and half-a-million miles paying the bills by delivering parcels in London. The job funded me through a Masters degree but eventually I changed career (if not mode of transport) in 1995 and trained as a basic instructor.
Although I continued as a DAS instructor until 2006, I also launched my advanced training school, Survival Skills, in 1997. I subsequently added a BTEC in post-test training and an NVQ in distance learning, and I’ve continued in post-test instruction ever since.
I’ve written for MAG for almost twenty years and my work’s been published in several motorcycle magazines plus the Telegraph. I’ve worked with a number of organisations on projects to do with rider safety, including Bucks County Council and Somerset Road Safety Partnership, and last year I acted as consultant to the Transport Research Laboratory.
I spent February 2018 in New Zealand as ‘keynote speaker’ (sounds important, doesn’t it?) on the Shiny Side Up Tour, for the NZ Department of Transport. SOBS was delivered at a dozen different venues on North and South Islands. I was lucky enough to be invited back in February 2019 and gave even more talks.
So what is SOBS all about? Let’s start with a bit of background. I cut my despatching teeth in the era when every rider ‘knew’ blind Volvo drivers who “don’t look properly” caused the ‘Sorry Mate I Didn’t See You’ SMIDSY crash and killed bikers. An old buddy of mine called Dave Brown – now a top political cartoonist – drew a short-lived cartoon series called ‘Planet Ovlov’ for one of the motorcycle magazines. Why Ovlov? Turn the letters around. My early days as a courier seemed to confirm that. I had a few near-misses and one low-speed bump. “Sorry Mate…” etc etc.
Around the same time, we were first told to use hi-vis clothing and ride with headlights on (a choice most of us no longer have). We were told that these ‘conspicuity aids’ would make us more visible, and drivers could see us coming. It sounded good in theory. London’s mid-70’s ‘Ride Bright’ campaign was probably a world first. Yet the more I rode, the more it seemed to me that staying out of trouble was down to me. I realised that more often than not, collisions between motorcycles and other vehicles at junctions were avoidable.
In 1995 when I started working as a trainer, I was supposed to promote hi-vis and use lights to new riders. Remember, my background is in science. One thing that science teaches us is never to accept something on trust alone. My courier experience started me wondering if conspicuity aids actually worked or if there was something wrong with the ‘be bright, be seen’ advice.
My first investigations into what are now known as ‘Looked But Failed To See’ collisions fortunately coincided with university research institutes opening up their libraries to the internet. A quick look at comparative accident statistics for before / after the ‘Ride Bright’ campaigns suggested nothing much had changed – junction collisions still topped the list and drivers still weren’t spotting bikes. And riders still sailed into these collisions. Ever since I started bike training, I’ve warned riders not to place any great trust in conspicuity aids but to be ready to take evasive action. Way back in my very first MAG column in 2002, I wrote:
“It’s easy to point the finger of blame at car drivers but it’s worth remembering “it takes Two to Tangle” – one vehicle operator to make the initial mistake, but the second (all too often a rider) to sail blindly into the trap.”
Fast forward to 2012, when I started to put SOBS together… still no change in accident locations. Junction collisions STILL top the list. But by now, there were hundreds of studies investigating car/bike collisions! They date from the 60s to 2019. Some are primitive lab exercises using photos or videos asking simplistic questions like “which bike is more visible – the white one or the black one?”. Others are more complex off- or on-road behavioural studies. The latest are highly sophisticated studies which may use a high fidelity simulator or even track real-time behaviour in a genuine driving environment. Crucially, the latest avoid priming the subject by telling them what the experiment is actually looking for.
These studies aren’t only from the UK, Europe, North America, nor even the Western world. I’ve seen studies from Israel, Australia and New Zealand, as well as developing countries in Asia.
And here’s something very interesting. Wherever you look, motorcyclists have much the same collisions with turning vehicles. The crashes happen regardless of standards of training and driving, and regardless of road rules and deterrents. That implies human factors at work.
Even more interestingly, training seems to play little part in our ability to avoid these collisions. The implication is that training that focuses on skills alone is inadequate, and what’s needed is more insight when applying our skills. In other words, to avoid being caught out by someone else’s mistake, we need to understand what, where, why and how things go wrong.
That’s what SOBS will be looking at in the next few issues of the magazine.
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
On the recommendation of Neil Kerr and others, and with some trepidation, we entered our 1934 Lion 600 outfit for this year’s Colombres Rally in October. How would we manage those mountain roads in the company of much more current machinery?
Early on the Saturday morning we rode from our B&B on Hayling Island to the Portsmouth ferry. All went well until, about half way between Santander and Colombres on Sunday afternoon we unexpectedly ran out of petrol. A (fortunately downhill) freewheel to a garage we had just passed was quickly followed by the discovery that the banjo at the end of the float chamber arm was in 2 pieces. The flatbed that eventually turned up looked as if it needed as much roadside assistance as we did but it got us to our hotel where we were overwhelmed with help from the organisers and other participants. However it soon became apparent that we would have to arrange for a new float chamber to be shipped out before we could motor again. The blessing was that if this had happened 50 miles earlier we would not have got on the boat and if 50 miles later we would have been in the mountains.
Monday was spent on the phone to those nice people in Salisbury and the bowl promised by Tuesday evening. To my great surprise I was offered the loan of a 500cc four cylinder 1970s Benelli by the chairman of Moto Club Indianos for the Tuesday ride. We were staying at his hotel (also on Neil’s advice) and he had already been very helpful. The bowl had arrived by the time I returned on the Tuesday but it had the wrong fuel pipe union. Once more, fellow participants, including those who had brought vans full of tools and spares, came to the rescue. It is amazing what can be achieved with Araldite and a hair dryer. The blessing in disguise was that with the new float chamber the full-throttle performance was even more reliable than before, and we were in for plenty of that.
For the rest of the week we enjoyed wonderful rides along the spectacular coast and in the even more spectacular mountains. The Sunbeam behaved perfectly, pulling well in fourth gear on all but the very steepest bits of road at speeds between 20 and 40 MPH. The only heart-in-mouth moments were on tight downhill right-hand bends, where use of the front brake required extreme caution with the sidecar. Lunch stops were in beautiful locations where tables had been set up, grills lit, and drinks laid on. Our longest day, Thursday, was 150 miles on roads from sea level to 4,500 ft, with a giant paella feast in Colombres in the evening. We copped out of the 300 mile mountain challenge on the Friday and went sightseeing in the historic centre of Sintillana.
On the Saturday all participating machines returned from a shorter run and were parked around the main square, with food and drink stalls, and the rest of the town was solid with parked motorcycles for the sprint hillclimb event along the Bustio to Colombres road. Because of ferry problems we had to return a day early but the Sunday run was in the direction of Santander so we simply went on after the usual splendid lunch stop.
Coming off the ferry after dark on the Monday night the electrics started to play up so we abandoned the bike in a pub car park and got a taxi to our B&B. Once we had recovered from that undignified ending we concluded that the week had been a wonderful experience, with good company and wonderful scenery and roads, and that the bike had for most of the week performed above our expectations. Apart from one or two vintage bikes that showed up for the final weekend we were on the oldest machine on the rally, the only one with a hand gear-change and the only outfit. This was the 8th Colombres Rally in its present form and earlier events did, we were told, have more pre-war entries.
We are considering doing this event again some time so if you are tempted, do get in touch.
For a short film go to FaceBook and search [MC Indianos sidecar]
Ken Jeddere-Fisher
Triumph has been around since 1902. In its heyday the company was one of the world’s most successful motorcycle brands, but following sustained periods of low of investment and the arrival of Japanese competition in the 70s, the business collapsed in 1983. John Bloor, a property developer who had attended the auction to buy the land on which the old factory sat, decided instead to buy the name and rebuild the company.
The new Triumph ‘Hinckley’ range was launched in 1992 and the Phoenix was reborn.
They now make around 65,000 machines a year, and expect to produce their millionth motorcycle this year.
My visit started early with full wet-weather gear to get to Beaconsfield services in the pouring rain for an 8:30 briefing by Nigel Winstanley, who had organised the visit and was also trying his hand at being a run leader for the first time. His own KTM was off the road, so he had borrowed a replacement bike. With torrential rain forecast, a last-minute change of route was also in order. Given all these challenges it was perhaps surprising that the only thing to go wrong on the day was that Nigel couldn’t figure out how to get the tank bag off his loan bike to fill it up. Fortunately one of our group suggested he look for the key inside the tank bag.
The weather gods were looking down on us as the rest of the journey stayed dry. We had a very pleasant stop for breakfast at Reg’s Café in Banbury, a nice biker-friendly place with good food. We all arrived at Hinckley by 1pm in good time for our factory tour.
The visitor centre is an impressive new facility, opened in 2017.
Next to the café is a well-presented exhibition on two levels illustrating the history and technology of Triumph Motorcycles up to the present day.
Our guide Robert gave us the full 2 hour tour. It can be done in 90 minutes, but we asked far too many questions. The factory was not operating at the time, but it was obvious that they had set up with visitors in mind. There were video presentations in all the key areas, and other static displays, typically showing examples of the manufacturing process that key components go through.
Triumph is now a global business with factories in Thailand and final assembly plants in India and Brazil. Thailand is where they have their diecasting plant and injection moulding factory, as well as final assembly of selected models such as the new Rocket 3 and the Bonneville range. The Hinckley plant produces around 15,000 machines annually, mainly Tiger 1200s, Tiger Sports and Speed Triples. In order to avoid high local import tariffs, the factories in Brazil and India assemble finished bikes from kits of parts shipped from the UK.
The Triumph Rocket 3R
Robert explained that they build most bikes to order, with a mixed model line depending on demand. The only time they make a large batch of the same bike is when they build launch stock to introduce a new model.
Much of the Hinckley factory is dedicated to machining engine casings and crankshafts, plus the finish grinding of camshafts and cranks. We got a strong impression of how important consistent quality is in the manufacturing process. They take samples of crankshafts after they have been cleaned and washed. They pass the cleaning fluids through a fine filter and measure the amount of dirt particles trapped. Robert reckoned that a well-maintained Triumph engine is good for 250,000 miles, with many customers who have achieved this.
There was a large screened-off research and development section where they develop new machines, with around 400 people employed in R&D. Regular employees are not normally allowed inside, and they only get glimpses of new machines as they are taken out on test rides. The dedicated road-testing team may look to have the dream job, but they ride out in all weathers, doing several hundred miles a day. It would soon lose its attraction to all but the most ardent rider. It typically takes Triumph three years to develop a new model from scratch.
At the end of the tour we were shown an area where bikes were prepared for journalists to test. There were around 20 new Rocket 3s ready for the world’s press to try in November. Although supplied with tyres pre-scrubbed in by Mira, the journalists clearly take every chance to explore their limits, and one pre-production bike had already been back in the workshop for repair after one tester slid it down the road.
If you’re interested in modern production methods, or are just into Triumph motorcycles, you’ll find the factory tour a fascinating experience, a real study of precision manufacturing and global logistics.
My thanks to Andrew Whiteman for his help with the article.
Nigel Winstanley
First published in Slipstream January 2020
Aragon MotoGP 2019 Tour
About a year ago a few biker friends and I were kicking around ideas for a European tour for 2019. My mates had done a few before, such as the MotoGPs at Assen, Catalunya and Misano. I started riding again in 2015 after a long break and had never done a ‘proper’ continental tour. We had toured the Lake District, Wales, the 2018 Isle of Man TT, the 2019 NW200 as a group, but I’d not tried riding on the ‘wrong’ side of the road yet, or on proper mountain roads (no offence to Wales!) For the 2019 tour, 5 of us settled on the Aragon MotoGP (myself, Rod, Stephen, Leigh and Paul). I had passed my advance test with TVAM in June 2019 but my friends are not advanced riders.
The first major ride on 17th September was getting to the ferry bound for Santander. We are all local to Portsmouth (1 hour away) but the ferry company made a late change to depart from Plymouth instead. Undeterred, I planned a reasonably scenic route, away from most motorways, for 3 of us riding down together which also gave me the chance to programme my new Garmin SatNav with waypoints. This all worked well until we couldn’t find somewhere to park and eat lunch in Dorchester. We eventually found a Morrison’s a few miles further on.
The tricky part came when we returned to the bikes and realised we were tight for time in catching the ferry, with nearly 100 miles to go and less than two hours ‘til last check-in. I pushed the pace on my ZZR1400 to make sure we didn’t suffer that embarrassment.
We met companion number 4 on the ferry. He had picked up a hired Africa Twin for the trip, after we persuaded him that taking his recently-restored 40-year-old Laverda might give rise to breakdowns and small amounts of mechanical chaos/oily puddles each morning.
I had placed a sticker on my right-hand mirror to remind me which lane to be in when I got to Spain. I emerged from Plymouth Sainsbury’s petrol station towards oncoming traffic. Not my finest hour.
After a merry evening over a few drinks on the ferry plus a bit of Croque Monsieur and Paella action, we had two cabins to try and get a good night’s sleep before the first full day’s riding in Spain.
Paul, the 5th and final member of the team, was waiting for us at Santander Port, having ridden 200+ miles from his UK home to Paris for a meeting, then a further 650 miles from Paris to Santander. Paul could have bailed out when work got in the way, but he was crazy enough to stick with the tour. What a lad! (And serves you right for retiring and then going back to work.)
Can’t stop smiling. What a road!
I led the group to the first hotel about 90 miles from the Santander ferry port. About 3 miles from the hotel, SatNav directed me off the motorway onto a much smaller road and about a mile later, diverted me back onto the motorway. WTF? Rod (who doesn’t have a SatNav) said “What was the point of coming off the motorway? It was a waste of time!” I was tired and stressed and replied, “I was following the SatNav, and I don’t f***ing live around here!”
The following few days involved a pattern of breakfast; checkout; load up the bikes and ride for a few hours; stop somewhere for lunch; then ride again until getting to the next hotel. Parking was often a challenge but once found we decanted the bikes; checked-in, showed (bliss); changed and headed out to dinner.
What wasn’t a blur of routine was just how fantastic the roads were. The tarmac surfaces felt like riding on a racetrack; there were very few cars; and the scenery was exquisite. Some of the rides were so good that we would stop for photos and rabbit on about certain bends or stretches of road. One mountain section was so damn good that when we got to the top we agreed to ride back down so we could do it all again.
Riding that big ZZR was quite a challenge for me on mountain descents where the mass and momentum was very different to riding my Aprilia Tuono Factory. Fully laden with a big chuffer like me on it, the ZZR weighed in at close to 900lb (or nearly 400 kilos). I had a purple patch where I followed the 2 BMWs in our group up a mountain pass and stayed with them for 15 minutes or so. It was exhilarating, but then it hit me when we found a short straight that I was exhausted from the concentration, the speedy smoothness over what might have been 100’s corners and the physical effort of leaning the bike left and right, over and over. But what an unforgettable 15 minutes that was!
Tito Rabat meets his heroes!
The Doctor looking cool on the grid-walk.
For race day, we rode for 2 hours in pitch black and rainy conditions, arriving at the Motorland Aragon circuit at 8:00am. We met with our host, Rubén Xaus (a retired racer nicknamed ‘Spider-Man’). He took us into the Avintia garage to meet the riders, Tito Rabat and Karel Abraham, take a look at the bikes and see what happens in the garage with bike set-ups, tyres, brakes etc. The personal highlight was two of us were given MotoGP Grid Walk passes. Being five grown-ups, we decided on who got the passes by playing, ‘Rock, paper, scissors’
I’m not easily starstruck but standing next to my hero Valentino Rossi as he got ready to race was just the best thing. Seeing all those familiar riders such as Marquez, Dovioso, Crutchlow, Rins, Vinales etc. was just brilliant. The brolly girls were beautiful but I did ask a couple to move a bit so I could get the entire bike and rider in shot (what a geek!). I walked so far down the grid I even spotted Jorge Lorenzo. Sorry, that was cruel!
So close!
At this point I want to say a massive thank you to my mate Paul who organised the race day VIP experience. I won’t forget it and neither will my mates. He also planned all the routes and booked the hotels. He and Stephen were the day-to-day route gurus when the SatNavs wouldn’t play ball all the time.
The ride back to Bilbao for the ferry home to Portsmouth was the only part where we missed a great set of roads. From Pamplona to Bilbao, the guys knew a lovely mountain road, only we never found it and ended up on some big A roads instead. After a cracking dinner in Bilbao, we knew that the tour was effectively over.
The next 24 hours was spent on the ferry to Portsmouth and a parting of ways, where we were already preoccupied with leaving in 5 directions. It was raining for the whole hour home, and the roads were clogged with cars and lorries, the road surfaces were poor, and I realised how spoiled we had been with our week on peerless Spanish roads. Hasta luego España!
Many flies lost their lives on this trip!
What did I learn from my first continental tour?
The four bikers of the apocalypse.
What were we riding?
The routes we covered included:
Day 1 & 2 in the UK:
Day 2 in Spain:
Day 3 in Spain. Cangas de Onis to Riano:
Day 4 in Spain:
Day 5 in Spain:
Day 6 in Spain:
Day 7 in Spain:
Day 8:
Brian Benson
As we reach the end of the decade and another season packed with motorcycle shows has wrapped up it’s worth reflecting once more on where the last ten years have brought us, and where we might be going. The age of the superbike is over, and the age of the hyperbike has begun. But so, I would argue, has the age of reason.
With the launch of the new Honda CBR-1000RR-R Fireblade, the last of the sensible road-biased 1000cc sportsbikes is dead, and a new era of £20k+ exotica is upon us. At a time when fewer and fewer new riders are choosing to embark upon their motorcycle journey, the crossing of this psychologically important barrier is triggering a wave of introspection across huge swathes of the biking community.
Such flagship models are now well and truly out of reach for the vast majority of riders. And even if you are personally financially capable of placing such a vehicle in your garage for the length of a PCP contract, the value proposition becomes ever-harder to justify when the real-world application of these bikes has shrunk at a rate inversely proportional to their rapidly rising cost.
A laser-focus on on-track performance has destroyed any real-world usability litre-class sportsbikes once possessed. Big adventure tourers like BMW’s R1250GS, KTM’s 1290 Super Adventure and Ducati’s Multistrada 1260 Enduro have gotten bigger and heavier to the point that they’re now no longer effective as all-road devices, more akin to two-wheeled Porsche Cayennes than Land Rover Defenders. The sports-tourer genre used to be where softer, slower sportsbikes lurked in order to avoid unflattering comparisons with razor’s edge performance machinery of the day. Yet Kawasaki’s H2 SX uses a supercharged 1000cc engine to warp space and time in a way that speed freaks from the golden age of sportsbikes could only dream of.
Don’t get me wrong – I love that these machines exist. But they exist now purely as statements, both of the technical capabilities of their manufacturers and the girth of their owner’s wallets. They have fully embraced their role as the Lamborghinis and Ferraris of the motorcycle world: expensive toys designed to mollify the wealthy rider’s ego with the knowledge that, if called upon, they could comfortably outrun a category five tropical storm.
Small Ones are Juicier
Not too long ago, mid-capacity motorcycles were considered to be temporary stepping-stones with zero street cred and significantly reduced build quality and specification. To roll up at a bike meet with “only a 600” was to invite ridicule and mockery. This attitude persisted for decades, with PCP providing a way for the illusion of affordability to persist in the face of soaring price tags. But now that thread has finally snapped, and there’s a kind of freedom in finally accepting that the vast majority of us can safely ignore the top-shelf selections entirely.
One of the best adventure-tourers on the market, featuring “only” 850cc of displacement.
What’s more, today’s mid-capacity bikes are a far cry from the bargain-basement parts-bin specials we remember from twenty years ago. The variety, capability and equipment level you can now purchase for half the price of the top-range machinery is truly remarkable, often far in excess of top-flight machines from just a few years ago.
890cc only seems small because KTM has desensitised us with their 1290cc version.
That Ducati 916 you always promised yourself one day? A new Panigale V2 will outrun it on the straights and leave it for dead in the corners, all while using less fuel and with service intervals that would’ve seemed pure fantasy just a decade ago. You really don’t need a Panigale V4, and now that you can’t afford one, you can happily forget all about it.
Owners love their Yamaha FJR1300s, and in ages past the brand’s Tracer 900 would’ve been ignored as a low-powered learner-tolerant alternative. But the FJR is heavy, thirsty, and not noticeably more powerful than it’s significantly cheaper stablemate. You’re not giving up build quality or electronic toys, nor are you noticeably sacrificing luggage capacity or pillion comfort. You get high-spec brakes and suspension, just like you’d expect on a flagship high-performance machine, and all for less than £10,000. The fact that Yamaha sells every one they can build supports my thesis that the era of egotism and excess is indeed over for most riders. Perhaps now we can finally agree that 115bhp is more than enough for a road bike and that choosing a “smaller” machine is no longer a sign of mental, physical, or sexual deficiency.
I’ve ridden and loved the Tracer 700 and the updated version looks fantastic. What’s more, the Euro5 updates don’t seem to have dented the power output nor added to the weight – it’s fully-fueled and ready to propel you across the continent at a lithe 196kg, and all for just £7,400. But nothing better highlights the “less is more” era we currently find ourselves in than the new Yamaha Ténéré 700. Sharing the same drivetrain as the Tracer and MT07, the Ténéré asks buyers to dig a little deeper at £8,700, but in return delivers far more capable off-road performance than any of the big-capacity flagships. KTM’s 790 Adventure pulls off the same trick, proving once and for all that anyone who tells you they need the bigger 1290’s power output to scramble down green lanes is lying to themselves, as well as to their bank manager.
Want to cruise in comfort? 650cc is plenty, and a £6,600 price tag is welcome.
BMW’s new F900XR makes the far-more-expensive, thirsty, and heavy S1000XR largely redundant for most riders. Anyone contemplating the purchase of a new Honda CRF1100 Africa Twin for an off-road adventure hasn’t seen the price tags, nor spent much time in the dirt and mud, where the brand’s own CRF250L reigns supreme. At almost £20,000, a top-spec Africa Twin will now cost you more than four CRF250Ls. You could pay for three friends to join you and still save money.
I’ve ridden and loved the Tracer 700 and the updated version looks fantastic. What’s more, the Euro5 updates don’t seem to have dented the power output nor added to the weight – it’s fully-fueled and ready to propel you across the continent at a lithe 196kg, and all for just £7,400. But nothing better highlights the “less is more” era we currently find ourselves in than the new Yamaha Ténéré 700. Sharing the same drivetrain as the Tracer and MT07, the Ténéré asks buyers to dig a little deeper at £8,700, but in return delivers far more capable off-road performance than any of the big-capacity flagships. KTM’s 790 Adventure pulls off the same trick, proving once and for all that anyone who tells you they need the bigger 1290’s power output to scramble down green lanes is lying to themselves, as well as to their bank manager.
Want something sportier? 700cc is all you need to tour Europe.
Buy this bike on PCP and it’ll cost you almost £21k. Not interested.
BMW’s new F900XR makes the far-more-expensive, thirsty, and heavy S1000XR largely redundant for most riders. Anyone contemplating the purchase of a new Honda CRF1100 Africa Twin for an off-road adventure hasn’t seen the price tags, nor spent much time in the dirt and mud, where the brand’s own CRF250L reigns supreme. At almost £20,000, a top-spec Africa Twin will now cost you more than four CRF250Ls. You could pay for three friends to join you and still save money.
Harley-Davidson’s idea of downsizing is entertaining, with their physically-imposing and aesthetically-challenging Pan America displacing a claimed 1250cc, matching all but the very biggest of its European competitors’ flagships in the segment. Even the 950cc Bronx is hardly a small machine, while unlikely to register as a serious alternative to Triumph’s existing Speed Triple or its ilk. Price, as well as weight and power figures, will be very telling. But as the new Indian FTR1200 has lately proven, American cruiser manufacturers are facing an uphill battle to compete in these market segments.
As a rider interested in exploring some off-road adventures after even a 650cc Suzuki V-Strom proved too large and cumbersome for the Trans-European Trail, I am delighted to see Fantic making some serious moves in UK market. Their interesting new Caballero 500cc single-cylinder road bikes appeared in magazine reviews earlier this year, providing a cheaper (and purchasable) alternative to CCM’s many hand-made Spitfire variants. What’s more, they offer a selection of 50cc, 125cc and even a 250cc road-legal enduro bikes, undercutting Honda’s popular CRF250L on both price and weight. Colour me interested.
Continuing the off-road theme, Husqvarna has diverged from their KTM overlord’s 690 Enduro by adding a Long-Range (LR) variant to their 701 Enduro. With 25 litres of fuel, the frugal and well-equipped single-cylinder motorcycle should be good for more than 300 miles of off-road riding. Only the BMW R1250GS Adventure claims a similar tank range, yet costs almost twice as much and would get itself wedged solid on trails a Husqvarna rider would breeze along. For those seriously planning some long-distance off-road adventures, the showroom choices have improved markedly this year.
How fast do you ride off-road? 250cc versions are available too.
The second evolution of the motorcycle?
Which brings us neatly back to the very start of this piece. For years, bikers have persuaded themselves and each other that they needed more power, more engine, more speed, and manufacturers were only too happy to oblige. We pushed them harder and harder, to the point where whole new kinds of electronic rider aids had to be developed to keep these new monsters in check, and still we demanded more. But now the bubble has burst, and we’ve finally realised that not only can smaller, cheaper motorcycles be just as fun and capable as their high-end cousins, in many cases they can actually be better in almost every way.
The Cycle Begins Anew
And not a moment too soon. Because while the motorcycle industry continues to wrestle with chronic addiction to baby-boomer cash, competition is arriving from an unexpected and ironic source. Motorcycles were originally born from bicycle manufacturers bolting early petrol engines into beefed-up frames. And while our evolutionary offshoot has produced the dinosaurs of our time, the meteorite of demographic, social, and political change is poised to kill it off entirely.
Threat or salvation? Motorcycle alternative or stepping-stone?
In the meantime, the original strain has persisted, and in the last ten years has begun to rapidly mutate. Across Europe, more bicycles are now sold with electric motors than without. These electrically-assisted bicycles take the bite out of hills, provide a safeguard against exhaustion, and are even providing a way for older or less fit individuals to get some much-needed exercise. As legislation begins to choke the life from the motorcycle industry in its current form, this unlikely competitor has emerged to nibble at the edges.
Boutique builders may one day be all that remains of mainstream motorcycling…
Prices have plummeted, and a high-quality multi-purpose e-bike with luggage rack, lights and mudguards can now be had for under £3,000. In increasingly-densely-populated urban centres, even a motorcycle no longer makes sense. And while a traditional bicycle might leave you arriving at work hot and sweaty, an e-bike does not. All these factors combined mean that motorcycling is fighting for relevance in a world increasingly hostile to its very existence.
It’s entirely possible that motorcycling can co-exist with autonomous cars and swarms of cyclists, both in terms of space on our roads and room in our budgets. But if it does, it will be as a much smaller version of itself, and with much smaller, more affordable motorcycles. There will always be room for high-priced exotica, and people willing and able to purchase and perhaps even ride them. But those few riders alone won’t keep the bike cafés open, the leather and textile makers in business, nor provide enough of a voting population to keep the encroaching safety legislators at bay.
Manufacturers follow the money, and if we show them that mid-capacity motorcycles can sell, then more will come. This will make the sport more affordable, and if we desist in our hostility towards small-capacity motorcycles and their riders, then perhaps some of those e-cyclists will be tempted to try something faster, without pedals. The next ten years will make or break motorcycling in the UK, and perhaps the whole of the developed world. E-Bikes could save us or destroy us, and the outcome is entirely up to whether we can embrace a small-capacity future or choose to hide in the past.
Nick Tasker
First published in Slipstream January 2020
(Nobody said it would be a holiday!)
by Dani Fiddaman and Steph Jeavons
Hold My Beer!
Two years ago, as Steph was getting close to the end of her journey around the world, she mentioned the idea of a new adventure. “Do you fancy riding to Everest Base Camp?” she said. “I have an idea to lead a group of women and I need my wingman with me”. Steph and I had met 5 years earlier on a trip across America and had shared a room for nearly 3 weeks. We’ve stayed in touch and been Roomies on several occasions since. Well, I didn’t need asking twice!! As a girl from Norfolk, mountains have always held a fascination for me, and they don’t come any bigger than this one. Plus, Steph and I had ridden in Nepal together already, when I visited her there whilst on her trip, and had promised that we would go back to Kathmandu together one day to eat momos.
The idea had come to Steph after talking to Alex Pirie (founder of the Nomadic Knights motorcycle tour company). Alex and his wife, Vidhya, had helped Steph with getting her bike into India in 2014 and they hit it off, planning to work together at some point in the future. Alex already ran tours in India and the Himalayas and was planning trips to Base Camp, but never before with an all-female group. It seemed like the logical thing to do, after a beer or two! “Girls on Top” was born and the date was set for September 2019, once Steph was home and the Friendship Highway had reopened after the disastrous earthquakes in 2015.
We Got This!
The plan was to take 24 women, including me and Steph, from Kathmandu into Tibet and up to Everest Base Camp, using Royal Enfield Himalayans (of course!!), all on recognised roads. We knew the altitude would be a challenge, with Base Camp being at 5200m, but we had two weeks and planned to acclimatise by taking our time to get there, riding over mountain passes at 5000m, and by spending several days on the Tibetan plains above 4000m before descending to Lhasa for a rest day ahead of our night at Base Camp. We were also to be prescribed altitude sickness pills, which make your fingers tingle and give you weird dreams! We’d have a doctor with us, as well as a support truck with mechanics, bike spares, medical supplies and our luggage; and with Alex in the lead and Andy as a sweeper, both on bikes too, we had everything we needed. The bikes were well equipped with soft panniers and tank bags but we’d only need to carry what we required during the day – water, snacks, spare gloves, extra layers as along with altitude comes a temperature drop.
Baptism of Fire (and Water)
Day 1 started with a long wait for our Chinese visas (Tibet being a province of China) and…..rain. Lots of rain! The monsoon season should have been over but nobody told the rain clouds. Eventually we set off out of Kathmandu, heading for Bidur then Syabrubesi and our hotel for the night, 130km in total. It was soon obvious that the road conditions, some tarmac with patchy sections of gravel and soil, had not been improved by the weather! The soil had turned to mud, there were deep potholes full of water and rivers crossing the road. Up on the pegs, off road style! The Himalayans coped well with the conditions, bouncing along in the potholes, ploughing through the mud like little tractors. The low seat height however meant a lack of ground clearance, which would occasionally get us stuck in a rut, rear tyre spinning on a rock thrown in by a truck driver for traction. But they just kept going, even after being dropped under water!
I was enjoying myself, but other girls less so. It was certainly in at the deep end on our first day and by dark we had only done half of the 130km. Two girls had ridden their bikes over the edge of the road in the bad conditions, thankfully stopping in the green vegetation a little way down rather than plunging all the way to the bottom of the valley. With the help of the locals and the support truck, we got them back on the road. We regrouped in Bidur, found a hotel that could take 30 people at short notice, had some dinner and took stock. We knew the next bit would be tougher as the road we wanted was closed by a landslide and we had to take the fabled “bottom” road. We slept on it, but in the morning, several girls were suffering after their falls on the previous day and others were exhausted after struggling with the challenging roads. It was with heavy hearts that 10 decided that they wouldn’t continue. Their dreams of Base Camp ended in Bidur.
The remaining 14 set out to do battle with the 60kms of rutted, axle-deep muddy road, and with the trucks and buses who were also forced to use this route. It was incredibly tough. It took us 10 hours and we dropped the bikes many times, but got through it together with gritted, and gritty, teeth. Karen dropped her bike in a river, the waterfall crashing down on her like some kind of waterboarding torture but at least we cooled down whilst helping each other across. In those conditions, lifetime friendships were forged! Once again, we finished in the dark, having been forced to walk around trucks stuck in the mud, blocking even bikes getting through, and then hitched a lift in a local 4WD pick-up truck for the last few kms. Alex hired a JCB and driver to clear the route and our support team worked all night to ferry the bikes down while we slept.
After Adversity Comes Reward
Tibet! Never have I been so relieved to see tarmac. After a short ride we waited 5 hours at the border, while our Tibetan agents needed all of their negotiating skills (and no doubt a few bribes!) to get us through, as our visa details had changed with fewer people and bikes. Finally, we were allowed to cross into China/Tibet. Immediately the road conditions improved, along with the weather, and we happily rode the high passes, twisty hairpins and high Tibetan plains at 4500m with their almost lunar landscape. There were still plenty of challenges: trucks and buses to overtake; yaks and goats to avoid; cars braking suddenly for the speed cameras; and the cold, dry altitude making both us and the bikes a bit wheezy. The 410cc Himalayans were happy pottering at 80-100kph, but would need a quick downchange for any serious overtakes. They were never going to be nimble but they are very stable and handling was secure in the bends.
A night in Xigaze city came and went, along with another of our team, unfortunately injured hitting one of the many small tractors that run alongside the road or, in this case, cut across it in the dusk and dust, with no lights. The remaining 13 made it to Lhasa the next day and finally a rest day at a lower altitude. This provided a chance to do some sightseeing in the beautiful temples, squares and Potala Palace gardens and to do some laundry (we were pretty smelly after the muddy battles in the humid 28C of Nepal). After Lhasa we rode back up to above 4000m to New Tingri, wrapped up well with thermal base layers and winter gloves. Tomorrow we would set out for Base Camp, only 70km away, with the promise of hairpins and a first sighting of Qomolangma, the Tibetan name for Everest.
Everest “Babe” Camp
So named by a predictive text error by my other half, but seeming quite appropriate! Woohoo, we made it!! The first ever all-women team to ride to Base Camp. Actually, it was the easiest day’s riding of the trip – beautiful, twisty roads, little traffic and simple navigation. Then for the final few kms we were chauffeured in an electric bus – along with a few other tourists – as the Chinese are trying to protect the national park around the big mountain. The rooms at the Rongbuk monastery are basic, with no showers and “hole above a pit” toilets, but the beds have electric blankets and the restaurant serves delicious food and pints of milky coffee. Perfect. We went to bed happy, but anxious that we hadn’t seen Everest yet, there was still too much cloud. Were we to be disappointed?
Thankfully overnight the sky cleared and I woke while it was still dark and walked up the road, the sky overhead full of amazing stars, to wait for the sunrise. A few girls had experienced pounding headaches and sickness overnight from the altitude and I’d been having nosebleeds, but the view that we finally got was worth all the blood, sweat and tears! 15 minutes later, Qomolangma decided that we’d been blessed enough and pulled the veil back over herself. She was gone and, after breakfast, so were the Girls On Top, heading back down to our bikes and onward to Xigaze again.
Kathmandu or Bust!
Our last day riding back to Kathmandu was “only” 180km, but we already knew how challenging the roads could be in Nepal. The weather forecast was for more rain and we had the border crossing to get through too. In our favour were the 2.5 hours we would get back in time differences and that the landslide had been cleared, enabling us to avoid the “bottom” road that had been such a mudfest. Most of the group had flights home booked for the following day so there was no option but to keep going until we got “home”. We’d also heard about another road from Bidur to Kathmandu, rumoured to be 100% tarmac! Of course, it wasn’t – that would have been too easy! – but it was slightly better condition than our outward route and allowed faster progress…… until we hit the mother of all traffic jams, with about 10km to go, just as it got dark. Truck after large, noisy, smelly truck, buses and cars all stuck in both directions, local bikes weaving through them and the road full of potholes and puddles. We squeezed through, split into small groups of 3 or 4 bikes, trying to look out for each other. Chantil dropped her bike, disappearing between the trucks, but was up on her feet, picking her bike up single-handedly, powered by adrenalin!
We regrouped outside Kathmandu, the whole team back together, to tackle the Death Race 2000 that is the ring road. Dark, chokingly dusty, some vehicles with full main beam, some with no lights at all, people crossing in between the traffic, dogs and cows in the road….. you have to be prepared for it all! Observation, observation, observation doesn’t come into it – you need your sixth sense working overtime!
The euphoria of making it back to the hotel together, all safe, as one closely knit team, was incredible. We were tired, we were smelly, we had no clean clothes (the support truck was stuck in the traffic, finally arriving at 5am with our luggage) but we had done it! 17 hours after we started, and 180kms of the toughest roads I’ve ever done. Much gin was drunk.
Massive thanks to Steph, Alex, Vidhya, Samdup and Tsela from Explore Tibet and all of the Nomadic Knights team for making it possible. To all of the Girls on Top who dared to sign up for the adventure and to the mighty Enfield Himalayan. Nobody could have predicted that I’d learn to love a bike with 24hp!
Huge thanks to Dani and Steph for the article and pictures from their amazing trip.
Tempted?
Intrigued?
Well, they are doing it again in 2020!
Dates: 13 – 26 September
Distance: 2340 km
Motorcycles: Royal Enfield Himalayan or Royal Enfield Bullet Trials Works Replica 500
Riding days: 11 days
Duration: 13 nights
Riding conditions: 90% tarmac, 10% gravel/broken roads
Challenge: 80%
Cost: US$5,980
and how about adding the wet!
First Time Run Leader – Mark Melbourne
The email arrived announcing the 39th 7Ws, and it was a welcome distraction. Now for the form. The usual stuff, but then questions about run leader and back marking. The simplest solution was just to leave the boxes unticked, but maybe I could go on the course and try back marking, or really push the boat out and do the run leaders course. Why not? I ticked the box.
Weeks pass and September draws even closer, and emails arrive confirm my attendance. Job done, 7Ws booked and paid. A few days pass and I receive an email from Ness. Dear Mark, are you able to take a run from Oxford to the Hotel? I was in the home office staring at the email, pondering on the implications, assessing the request that had just been made. I will think, and decline.
Again a few days passed and the mobile rang. I didn’t know the number, but answered. “Hi Mark, it’s Ness from TVAM.” Five minutes later I was a run leader. I’m still unclear how that happened! I won’t go through the detail of planning, app checking, route checking and google street view virtual trip clicking, but I was concerned.
Finally, the big day had arrived, the 39th 7Ws. The pre-ride briefing was given, and I sat wondering what I’d signed up for. I was issued with double white armbands. I was looking official and it went to my head a bit. There were 30 minutes to go, and we were the last group to leave. Just to add to the tension, we were apparently waiting for a pinlock visor to arrive. With 10 minutes to go, I scrambled around making sure route app was working – all dressed and ready to go.
Outside in the car park, as the ‘orange’ run leader it was my turn to speak. Are you all happy? Good to go. I couldn’t say much more, as my briefing notes were on the kitchen table 22 miles away. Fortunately, Ness stepped in and filled in the numerous blanks. All that was left was for me to put on my helmet and get on my bike – which was parked in the ‘pink’ run bay. I put this down to early nerves when parking.
I felt like a flight leader preparing for take-off, seeing the bikes forming up behind me ready for the off. Lights on, all pointing in my direction all waiting for me to set off. I did so, praying that the navigation app would perform, and it did. Not the usual Garmin or TomTom but a little known app called Kurviger. She started talking to me. “Take the 3rd junction.” A quick glance in the mirror confirmed that I was being followed. Great it’s all working. Now for my very first marker, look, aim and point. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed they had stopped safely.
After a solid 4 minutes and 30 seconds it all looked like it was going to plan; taking the bends, riding smoothly, all good. Then, why am I on the A420? I should have taken the left fork. No one will notice if I just pop down, go around and come back up. It worked a treat, and I was back on track. (Proofers note: To her great amusement the backmarker spotted the run leader on the opposite side of the dual carriageway, heading back in the direction from which we had just come.)
From here on, the journey was almost flawless, with only minor hiccups. My biggest worry seemed to be losing everyone for a few miles. Where have they all gone? I wasn’t going that quickly, surely. But coffee breaks and lunch soon solved that issue.
The roads got better and better, and I shouted “#@$! Yeah” after a particularly exhilarating and progressive ride through the glorious Welsh countryside. Arriving at the hotel some hours later, much to my relief it seems that I had only lost two: one over-enthusiastic rider who overtook me, and one that didn’t turn in to the hotel. To these two poor lost souls, I am sorry.
It was a nerve-racking adventure, and my first attempt at being a run leader. It completely knackered me, as the levels of concentration involved were more than anticipated. It wasn’t just riding, it was the planning for the safety and directions for the group, the riding and in the wet. I really don’t like riding in the wet.
I had dinner and some drinks, and hit the sack. Would I do it again? Absolutely! It was one of the most rewarding things I have ever done, and the feedback I received was overwhelming. However, with all these things I couldn’t have done it without a fantastic backmarker (big shout out for Kathy Drogemuller) and all the team between us. Without them it could have all gone wrong, so even if I was in the front, it was a team effort. Thanks to everyone on making my first run a success. Of course, a final thank you to Ness who talked me into it and supplied all the help and support I needed.
Second time attendee
Rhona Ferry
It was September 2018 that I attended my first 7Ws, and my first trip with TVAM. I had been full of anxiety, as I didn’t know what to expect and at that time didn’t really know many people. Those fears were soon squashed that weekend and, feeling that I had to spread the word on how great 7Ws is, I wrote about my experience for Slipstream.
Fast forward 12 months and I was counting the days until I headed off on another 7Ws. I was really looking forward to a weekend of riding, training, fun and catching up with friends made over the past year through other activities within TVAM.
On this trip , however, a new training opportunity called ‘Starburst’ was introduced which meant that there were now two types of training opportunities available to associates. The first was the usual group ride out with the advantage of being allocated different observed rides throughout the day, and the other (Starburst) was a full day’s 1:2 training session with an Observer.
As this was the first time this training opportunity had been offered, my husband and I decided to sign up, thinking it would be the boost needed to iron out our bad habits. It certainly did that.
We were allocated Barrie Smith as our trainer for the day and it began with a very thorough briefing about what we could expect for the day ahead. My husband and I each had different areas to work on. Barrie worked seamlessly the entire day so I didn’t feel like I was holding them back, and vice versa.
It really did feel like one to one training and he built my confidence so much. Barrie also recognised when I was tired from pushing myself and made sure I had sufficient breaks to recharge. I got so much out of the day and felt improvements on areas that I had struggled with before, as did my husband.
The route had a variety of fast-flowing, twisty roads and some more technical sections and just the right amount of traffic for overtaking practice. It took in parts of the Rhayadar ring, heading up to Snowdonia and stopping at a disused power-station with scenic views overlooking a lake at Llyn Trawsfyndd.
The return ride included Newtown to Crossgates where we could really put what we had learned during the day into practice. I couldn’t believe how I rode that route in comparison to the last time I was there – smoother, faster and safer.
The day included plenty of stops to discuss opportunities for learning and improvement, as well as lunch and cake stops. We both gained a lot out of it and would highly recommend the intensive training day if given the opportunity. What a great idea for associates! We really are spoilt for learning choices with this club.
A huge thank you to Barrie for his time and valuable training. We could definitely feel the difference riding home the following day. We would also like to thank Ness, Andy and all for making this 7Ws trip another one to remember. They even managed to control the doom and gloom weather for most parts of the days.
Roll on the next one.
27th – 29th March 2020
First published in Slipstream November 2019
Many of us have spent time in the Picos Mountains in Northern Spain this summer – and you can see why!
If you haven’t, it may be time to consider them, 24hr ferry to Spain, stunning scenery and fantastic roads.
Photos: Andy Sellers, Jane & Alan Bradford, Kathy Drogemuller, Simon Daniels, Salli G
Motorcyclists, on average, own more than one motorcycle. Only truly hardcore automotive enthusiasts own more than one car, the financial and logistical constraints of the format conspiring to ensure that even most performance-oriented cars need to be able to function as someone’s only mode of practical transport. Motorcycles don’t have that problem.
Today, it’s possible to have a garage full of bikes that have dramatically different operational envelopes. But what came first, the chicken or the egg? Do we need multiple motorcycles because each one is only good at one thing? Or is it the other way around, and brands are only able to thrive while selling specialised hardware precisely because they know you have other bikes for other purposes?
There are dirt bikes for exploring byways; sportsbikes for clipping apexes at trackdays; naked roadsters for B-road blasts; big tourers for nipping to the Black Forest for a long weekend in comfort; and even long, low cruisers for rolling up at your favourite biker cafe in style. In truth, I could spend the rest of this article just listing the many genres and applications of motorcycles, and still have someone email me a list of those I’d missed.
And yet, even if you have the means to stock your garage with diverse choices, there’s a purity to doing it all on just one bike. There have been several times in my riding career when the question of which bike to ride was moot, and it’s always liberating. No worries about whether I’ve brought the wrong bike for a particular ride or trip, no nagging concern that I might’ve had more fun on one of my other motorcycles. It was a bike ride, I rode my bike. Simple.
Insurance, tax and MOTs all need paying for regardless of how the mileage is divided up, and the reality is that you can only sit in one saddle at a time. Sure, there are practical benefits to sharing the load – if one bike is off the road for repairs or maintenance it’s handy to have a backup. Although it must be said that this argument breaks down if, like me, you aim for your fleet to have as little overlap as possible. If your sporty bike gets a puncture the day before a trackday you can’t exactly shrug and take your cruiser instead.
And yet, I’m increasingly convinced that one bike can do it all. Twenty years ago the only way to get good brakes, suspension and decent power was to grit your teeth and clamber aboard a dedicated sportsbike – comfort and practicality be damned. They were the flagships, and everything else was compromised in some way – and so people compromised on luggage and comfort instead. But these days the most expensive bikes in the showroom stand tall on their dirt-styled tyres, glowering down at lesser bikes with their array of LED spotlights. Adventure Bikes can do now everything as well, or better, than everything else in the showroom.
20 years ago, top-flight sportsbikes were the only way to get good performance.
Touring, trackdays & commuting – there’s a certain simplicity to doing it all on one bike.
Upside-down cartridge forks and radial brakes, but also two-up comfort and luggage?
Comfort? Check – Adventure Bikes, or Adventure Tourers as some variants are labelled, are designed to soak up big miles with ease. Performance? Check – the top-flight models from the European manufacturers use big engines to put out more torque and power than can be usefully employed anywhere outside a racetrack. Brakes and suspension are not only better quality than race bikes from just a few years ago, they manage the trick of enabling these big beasts to out-handle dedicated performance machines on the bumpiest of neglected British roads.
Want tech? Sportsbikes are the ones playing catch-up these days, with the slickest TFT screens, automated electronic suspension and riding aids going to the Adventure Bikes first. And finally, luggage; beefy subframes and fashionable yet functional top-loading panniers mean that the dedicated touring motorcycle has all but died out, with only BMW and Honda offering a grand total of three models between them in the UK. I know that there’s a little more choice in North American markets, but in Europe, the Adventure Bike has completely taken over.
And honestly, I’m just as guilty of contributing to this state of affairs. I bought a V-Strom 650, modified it to suit and then spent 75,000 miles riding it in all conditions, on all surfaces, in every type of terrain and weather, across borders, on road, track and beyond, with and without luggage and passenger. And during my adventures, did I ever think that another bike might have been better at performing the task at hand, might have made a trip, ride or other biking experience that much more enjoyable? Sure – but only for one small part of the journey. You see, unless you do all your riding within a few miles of your house, you’re going to put down some miles travelling to the good roads, or the racetrack, or the trailhead. And while a sportsbike will be slightly more fun when you’re actually knee-down at Mallory Park, there’s a reason why hardcore track-rats cart their bikes around in vans. Carving up mountain passes is indeed more rewarding on my Street Triple than it is on my V-Strom, but only just. And the V-Strom will make the journey there far easier and more enjoyable, with better wind protection, as well as easier-to-use, more spacious and more secure luggage.
Dedicated touring bikes still exist, but adventure bikes have largely made them redundant.
With bumpy roads, variable weather and lots to carry, would they have been better off on ADVs
After several days of re-packing and re-strapping my tailpack, I really started to miss my topbox.
This point was driven home by me earlier this year across two separate trips – one 7-day blast across the Swiss Alps, and another shorter loop around the Scottish North Coast 500 – both undertaken by myself and a friend on our trusty Street Triples. We both had an absolute blast, but after long days in the saddles we realised that we would’ve given up very little in terms of cornering enjoyment if we’d been riding middleweight Adventure Bikes instead.
500 miles along French motorways was a trial to be overcome. Squeezing clothes and toiletries into tiny tailpacks was a daily frustration. The bumpy roads of the highlands knackered our wrists and short fuel ranges were a constant gnawing concern. Sure, you may want to stop every 100 miles, but you can’t always find an open petrol station in many of the most interesting parts of Europe, never mind beyond! When the rain arrived, I missed my V-Strom’s windshield, fairing and handguards. And while oiling my chain would’ve been easier with the V-Strom’s centrestand. Many adventure bikes solve the problem entirely with shaft-driven rear wheels.
A BMW R1250GS is lighter and more nimble than it’s fully-faired RT cousin, has better wind protection than the naked R and will be far more comfortable during the long motorway stretches than the RS. An S1000RR has more power and weighs less than an S1000XR, but which one would you rather take for a long ride through the Pyrenees? Which one would your pillion prefer? Naked bikes, sportsbikes, retro roadsters – they all look great and perform brilliantly when the conditions are magazine-photo-perfect, but at any other part of the trip you’ll want something a little less single-minded.
Twenty years ago the compromises would have been huge. I would have had to sacrifice a massive amount of engine, handling and braking performance to get my desired level of comfort and practicality. Not any more. And there will certainly be those of you who see the pain and discomfort of using a more focused device as a badge of honour and pride, and I certainly understand that. There are those amongst you for whom any compromise will be one too many. My brother maintains that he’ll never give up the front-end feel he enjoys from his sportsbike, and his wife seems perfectly happy to tour from that tiny back seat. That said, it’s funny how he’s putting far more miles on his CCM GP450 these days…
And so, as always, it comes down to personal preference. I’m not going to be thinning my personal fleet just yet, nor stop adding more specialised bikes to the garage to fill ever-smaller niches. I’m fortunate enough to able to afford to keep multiple motorcycles, even if the annual mileages on my more focused vehicles is dwarfed by that of my Adventure Bike. And if you only have the resources or the space to keep a single motorcycle in your garage, then why not pick one that is a jack of all trades, while also managing the impressive trick of damn near mastering them all?
“Call that an adventure bike? This is an adventure bike!”
Nick Tasker
First published in Slipstream November 2019
Roger was a regular at 7Ws
40 winks in the bar at the Commodore.
We recently saw the loss of one of our long standing members, Roger Hatch.
Roger passed away on 6 August 2019 at the age of 74.
He had been a member of TVAM for 14 years and had passed his advanced test in 2007. I met Roger back in 1977 when I worked with him at Slough College Management Faculty for a year or so, where he maintained all the audio visual equipment whilst I covered all the graphics requirements. He was always quite a character. He will be missed.
Editor
First published in Slipstream October 2019
Until a few years ago, I had absolutely no interest in bikes. My only experience was riding my Dad’s old Puch Maxi 50cc moped just to get me to and from college for a year. Once I’d passed my driving test, I never gave bikes a second thought. I preferred riding horses!
Fast forward to 2012, my husband Ian announced, out of the blue, that he wanted a bike and would take his test again. Mid-life crisis I called it. He had ridden bikes as a teenager, a 125, then an RD250 at 17 but once he’d got a car, he sold it and never got another one. In March 2012 he booked himself on a 1-week DAS course. The day after he passed, he went over to Aylesbury to pick up his Honda CBF600 SA. I was persuaded to jump on the back one Summer’s evening and reluctantly agreed. I absolutely hated it, way too fast and I felt vulnerable and not in control – never again! Until a year later when he changed to a Triumph Sprint, this time it was more comfortable, but I still wasn’t convinced.
As a keen cyclist, Ian was interested in marshalling at cycling events and one of his friends from Reading Cycling Club said he would need to do the advanced test so suggested joining TVAM. By Spring 2014, after chopping in the Truimph Sprint for a Triumph Explorer 1200, he joined TVAM. I rode pillion a couple of times on the Explorer and found it pretty comfy. That summer for my 50th birthday, I agreed to a weekend away on the bike to Hay-on-Wye. I was nervous but we had a great time. Later that year, Ian passed his advanced test.
In early 2015 we found out about a trip to France for 1 day, a ‘French Taster’. It was one night in Calais and a day’s riding on some French roads. Good for those who had never biked abroad. We had a great time despite the appalling weather. Strangely, it didn’t put me off and a couple of months later we went on another french trip to Normandy with some more TVAM members. I’d always wanted to see the beaches and the WW2 sites. I was actually beginning to enjoy this biking lark! We did the pillion riding course which was really useful and informative. Looking back, I think the people we’d met helped make these trips so enjoyable as well as some lovely roads.
We began to visit Wales a couple of times a year where the roads are just fantastic! Ian had been on his first 7Ws so we rode some of those amazing roads in mid Wales. I started to tag along to some of the Green team runs and some of the other group runs. I had got used to the marker system and buddy system after a few rides, but at this point, whilst I had become accustomed to riding pillion, I still had no desire to ride myself.
In September 2016, we went to the Picos de Europa national park in Spain with some other TVAM members. I absolutely loved it! The roads and scenery were fabulous, we were with a great bunch of people and we all got along well and had some laughs (and a few gins!) along the way. On my return, I decided to bite the bullet and get some bike lessons. So, in October 2016, I booked a taster session with Lightning Training in Caversham. I got on one of their CB125s and rode it around the car park for a bit getting used to the gears and brakes. Despite driving for over 30 years, riding a geared bike didn’t feel natural at all, however, I enjoyed it, so I did my CBT training the following week. I spent the first half of the day around the car park getting up into 2nd gear and practising emergency brakes and U-turns. I got my certificate at the end of the day, really pleased with myself – not bad for a 52 year old!
I was keen to do my Direct Access quite quickly – I wanted to get it done and dusted in a week, like Ian had before – so, I booked a ‘Roadrider’ day for the following week to get some more road experience. I had to go to the Lightning’s Oxford centre as Reading was fully booked. I rode the CB125 again around Oxford City centre, which was very challenging – bicycles and buses everywhere. We rode a couple of times between their Oxford and Reading centres to pickup and drop off the bikes, and as we did I was becoming more used to the bike’s controls.
I booked my MOD 1 training for the following week with Lightning, again. I spent all day in their training pad on a knackered old Suzuki Gladius. I was a bit peeved as they had some newish CB650s but they thought they were a bit tall for me. I had a fairly good first half of the day, then I dropped the bike on a U turn ending up with a massive bruise on my leg. It knocked my confidence and they decided not to let me out on the road that day so I was a bit deflated and decided I wasn’t ready for the test. I had bought myself a CB125 but found it a bit small so I got myself a 2007 Honda Varadero 125, which was perfect for me. It was a bit taller and didn’t feel like a 125 in size. It was a great practice bike and I went out a few times on it just getting used to gears, brakes and turning. I kept it for a year, until I got bored of trying to keep up with Ian on his Triumph Explorer.
In 2017, going pillion again, we went on our own to France for a ten-day tour, then again to the Picos in the September. When I got back from Spain, I decided I was ready for my big bike test. I had heard about BMW’s Rookie to Rider training through another TVAM member, so I made some enquiries and in October 2017, almost a year to the day of passing my CBT, I booked myself on a 5-day training course up at their centre in Royston, Hertfordshire. The process was pretty easy and they even recommended a local B&B. It turned out that the lady owner had recently passed her DAS with them the summer before and couldn’t recommend them enough. The best thing of all was I got to learn on a new F700 GS!
On the Sunday morning, I arrived at the training centre in Royston around 9am having travelled up the day before. Over a couple of cups of tea, I filled in all the paperwork and then we had a briefing in the classroom with the other students. I immediately opted to start on the 700 rather than the 125. We did a couple of hours or so around their training pad just so they could see our level of riding, then we went out into the countryside, stopping in the popular biking village of Finchingfield. As I reverse parked, my foot slipped on loose gravel and the bike went over – couldn’t have happened in a worse place in front of all those Sunday bikers! Anyhow, I brushed myself down and carried on after a quick cuppa. Apart from that slight hiccup, we had a cracking day’s riding, even getting in some twisties. I couldn’t wait for day two.
Day two was MOD1 training day. Lots more in the training pad, mastering the slaloms, figures of 8 and lots of U-turns. I managed to drop the bike a couple of times doing U-turns but carried on, determined to master this manoeuvre. We did lots of road riding in the afternoon.
Day 3 was more MOD1 and MOD2 training and we got to practise in the actual DAS test enclosure before the test. I dropped the bike AGAIN on the U-turn. At least it was a practice and not the real thing. I was beginning to doubt my U-turn abilities. Everything else was spot on. .
Day 4 was the MOD1 test. I was nervous and didn’t sleep much the night before. After some more practice in the training pad we headed off over to the test centre just outside Cambridge. There were 2 of us and I went first. I failed! I was gutted and so was Julie, my trainer. I’d done a near perfect test with just that one fault. I’d wobbled over the white line on the U-turn. I did the actual U-turn OK but going over that line was a fail! How frustrating, the other chap passed.
I decided to save day 5 for another time and upon my return home, I spent days on my 125 practising. I had to wait 3 weeks for a re-test, thankfully passing MOD1 the second time and immediately booked my MOD2 test for the following week. I passed with just 3 minors. I was over the moon!
While I was away, Ian had sent me a picture of a 2013 BMW F700GS, the same as I’d been training on at Royston which was for sale in Christchurch. So, the day after I passed, I removed my L plates from my 125 and rode it down to Christchurch on a rainy November day to view the BMW. I picked my new bike the following week, riding home on my own BMW700GS. Happy days! Stopping in Lyndhurst for lunch on the way home, I stalled and dropped my new bike in the car park. I’d only had it five minutes! The throttle was sticking a bit, but I had to ride it home like that in the rain and it was getting dark! I rode quite a bit during the winter months and decided to wait until the Spring before joining TVAM and eventually joined as an Associate in April 2018. Since then, I’ve had over 30 observed rides some good and some not so good but my scores were coming down and my riding improving. I was struggling with cornering, particularly right-hand bends not looking round enough and keeping to the left. I practised these a lot and went on the 7Ws last October plus the Look, Lean and Roll course this year which both helped my riding, cornering and overall confidence immensely. It all started to fall into place.
Finally, on August 1st 2019, I took my Advanced Test and got a F1RST! I am absolutely chuffed to bits. Looking back, it took longer than I would have liked, but I’ve learnt so much in that time, especially as I’ve only been riding a bike just under 3 years. Of course, there’s always room for improvement and I see this as a continuing learning curve with each ride. I cannot thank Observers enough for their support. Steve, my Observer, for encouraging me and getting me through this process. I’m not the easiest of students. Plus, of course Ian, for putting up with me along the way. It’s been quite a journey.
Riding a bike has opened up a whole new world. I’ve been on roads I never knew existed in this country, seen stunning scenery and ridden amazing roads in the UK and through France, Belgium, Luxembourg, Germany and Spain. I’ve met some fabulous people along the way in TVAM, alll of whom have been so friendly and encouraging throughout my journey. Too many names to mention, but you know who you are.
Looking forward to new adventures and hopefully a new bike in the near future.
Julie Colville
First published in Slipstream October 2019
Changing the framework of your mind!
Elspeth Beard, you may have come to see her at the TVAM Seminar on 19th June – nearly 100 members did. Describing her as a remarkable lady is never going to do her justice! If you missed it, you missed a great opportunity.
In 1982, at just 23 years of age and training as an architect, Elspeth decided to go around the world solo on her motorcycle! At this time there were no credit cards, mobile phones, no Sat Navs, no internet and little in the way of global communication – do you remember the telex machine? She was the first woman to embark on such a journey and when she left she had little idea of what lay ahead.
She spoke with great humility about her travels having survived some horrendous accidents, travelled through some very unsavoury countries, fended off sexual advances and fallen in love twice. She worked at various places and saved money to enable the next part of her journey. Camping for much of the journey Elspeth rode across the United States to Los Angeles, crossing to New Zealand, stopping in Australia, then on to Malaysia, Singapore, Nepal, India, Iran, Turkey and back home. En route, she looked after her own BMW R60/6 with the help of a Haynes manual and religiously carried out the maintenance.
Her story was told with honesty and wit and is an inspiration for all motorcyclists. In all, Elspeth covered 35,000 miles over two and a half years but when she returned her story went unheard. It wasn’t until 2008 that a freelance journalist heard about her adventure and wrote about it.
Slowly her story emerged and in 2014 Elspeth finally decided to write her book ‘Lone Rider’. Fast forward 5 years and there is now talk about wanting to make a film about her. What a fantastic end to a story that continues to inspire so many – what an amazing lady!
In Elspeth’s words, ‘There are always excuses not to do something and never the right time to make a start, so just do it!’
David Naylor
First published in Slipstream October 2019
Sausage Fest & Slow Riding 2019
A wet and windy morning at St. Crispin’s fortunately gave way to a warm and sunny afternoon with many enjoying the slow riding, sausages and Kathy’s ice creams. It was also time for members to bring their dogs out in force!
First published in Slipstream September 2019
So having dashed off a few lines about riding before, I wondered how hard it could be to write something to capture the happenings on the recent TVAM trip to Mullenborn – named after our past late Chairman David Jacobi who started it all back in 2009.
The thing about Germany is it’s a long way away. This means to get there in a single day you either have to leave home very early or stay down in Kent near the Eurotunnel terminal. Being an older chap, used to a comfortable life and afternoon naps, I chose the latter and booked into what I thought was the Holiday Inn at North Ashford. I’d stayed there many times before and it’s got good rooms, secure parking under CCTV cameras and, most importantly, a bar and food. In the car park is a ‘pub’ owned by the hotel which serves an alternative menu.
Only on checking my booking on the morning of departure did I see I’d actually reserved a room at the totally different Ashford International Hotel. Apart from being a bit more expensive and a lot bigger, it delivered the sleep package I was looking for. It did have the advantage of being next door to a Sainsbury’s Superstore, which serves probably the cheapest petrol in Kent, right on Junction 9 of the M20 if you’re passing.
So come the Friday morning arriving at the tunnel terminal was a steady stream of TVAMers all kitted out with top boxes, panniers and strap-on luggage, eager and excited about the long weekend ahead. Those of us with weather apps though were more excited about the biblical weather forecast for northern France that awaited us. Embarking went smoothly and all 40 bikes managed to get to France on the train without incident.
The run from the tunnel to the hotel is not a short affair as it necessitates crossing France and Belgium before descending into Germany so, rather than have a peloton of 40 bikes in convoy, we split into three groups of around 12 – 15 bikes each. Now, despite the harmonisation of Europe, speed limits in each country are different. In France the motorways are 130kph unless raining when they reduce to 110kph. Over most of the country the speed limit on rural roads is just 80kph. In Belgium the motorways are 120kph regardless of conditions (like the UK) and rural roads are 90kph. In Germany though sense prevails and the motorway limit is 130kph with rural roads being 100kph. They also have very few speed cameras – unlike Luxembourg – but more of that later!
Sure enough the heavens delivered on their promise and within an hour of leaving the tunnel our waterproofs were being tested as only the manufacturers could have dreamed of. Through France the 110kph limit seemed sensible with the spray and so speeding up to 120kph in Belgium was probably not a wise move. Of course our group of 15 bikers soldiered bravely on and once in Germany the clouds were touching the hills either side of the road. Even a downhill motorway section with a slight bend seemed testing at 80kph (that’s 50mph for any Brexiteers).
Two of the three groups chose the the motorway all-the-way route, which though bum-numbing and boring got us to the hotel in time for an early bath and beer well before dinner. One brave group though went for the wiggly half-and-half route and arrived some time after the others, somewhat drowned and thankful no doubt for a hot shower and dinner.
As always Frau Maria, owner of the Landhaus Mullenborn hotel, did us proud on the meal front. Feeding 40+ bikers at one time takes some skill but we sat down to a hearty three course meal with main courses to suit all tastes and food persuasions. My argument that beef is really a vegetarian dish as they only eat grass won few votes but there was still plenty to go round for everyone. Dessert was a selection of cheese cake on sponge (a change from a biscuit base) and other colourful choices. And so it was every evening including the excellent BBQ cooked on the terrace on Sunday evening.
Saturday dawned bright and beautiful and with wet weather gear stowed a number of runs set off to explore the area. Immediately noticeable were the wonderful road surfaces, all black, smooth, and curvy. The Germans still invest heavily in their road network, as a few found out by the number of road closures we came across as they re-laid thick tarmac over large sections. Why try the infamous Nurburgring when for free you can ride roads like this?
Sunday was a repeat of Saturday only most people trying a different route from the day before. With 6 different choices it was a hard decision which to go on. My group decided to do the North Loop route which promised coffee and cakes as well as river views. Sure enough we arrived at the Luxembourg border in good shape to storm across the bridge and into the river-side cafe where a huge selection of cakes and pastries awaited. The diet was on hold (again). As this cafe also has a fuel station we were able to also replenish our bike’s thirst for fuel and then head-off back into Germany for more twisty roads. A stop at the ‘Ring’ was inevitable so at Adenau we stopped for afternoon refreshments and a bit of spectating. Unfortunately an incident had closed the track so apart from seeing two cars and motorcycle exiting on the back of flatbed trucks there was little action to see.
Monday was a day for going off-piste. A small number of us set off to reconnoitre a possible new route for next year. Taking a slightly different route down some really fast (ahem) twisty roads back to the Luxembourg border for morning coffee and cakes (again!). Then it was new stuff and with Garmin twisty routes selected we set off towards Belgium and to the town of Bastogne. Here they commemorate the WWII Battle of the Bulge which took place in the hills around the town. Sure enough there were a couple of 2nd World War jeeps there as their drivers did their own road trip and of course the Sherman tank which is parked proudly on the edge of the square to remind everyone, complete with battle scars.
Unfortunately our trip had taken us across to Luxembourg whose police had kindly placed a few speed cameras along our test route. And yes, some of our number tried them out, they do work and what’s more they are very efficient at getting the letters out!
Tuesday was the return trip to Blighty. An early breakfast was followed by the mass photo and then the three groups started to wind their way home. A group of four decided to go independently and take the half and half route to the tunnel but having been thwarted by yet more road closures and diversions reverted to the motorways and actually beat the first motorway group to the tunnel! Not sure how that happened – hopefully not more letters in the post!
Andy Slater
First published in Slipstream September 2019
Chasing the Sun, G310 Charity Fun for Hampshire and IOW Air Ambulance
The Saddlesore 1000 mile in 24 hour Challenge is described as an entry level event by the Iron Butt Association, so I thought to myself, “What better for an entry level event than an entry level bike?”, and so was the G310 1000 mile Challenge conceived.
Sometimes how much fun you had during an event is best measured by how you feel in the days following; the tiredness and feeling low only being the swing back from the size of the adrenaline-fueled high.
How many bikes, in any manufacturer’s range, can run that high in the rev range for 24 hours? We averaged 48mph over the 1080 miles covered if we include stops. We took in 12 fuel stops and about 160 minutes off the bikes for fueling and breaks, giving 1190 minutes riding (that’s 19 hours and 50 minutes for those of you without a calculator). The G310 bikes ran perfectly, never missing a single-cylinder beat and never letting us down, utterly reliable.
The start was in Guildford, close to work, at first light. We set off just before 5am and chased the sunrise, until it started to shower as we drove through East Anglia. Getting some early motorway miles along the Miserable 25 (sorry M25) was important. We made great time to Great Yarmouth and knowing the roads certainly helped as we rolled in 25 minutes early, clearly making better time than the predicted progress from myrouteapp.
A sterling start and this helped set the mood – we can do this, we have a realistic shot. There was no going back and no negative thinking. Before we started I was very optimistic and our mindset was always, “The bikes are capable and we have to dig deep to match the bikes.” I also anticipated that an easy run at the start of the day was crucial.
From Great Yarmouth the roads became congested with bleary-eyed drivers but yet again this was no issue for the mighty G310s. Our steel horses allowed us to carve through the traffic, the lightweight bikes filtering better than an Italian barista who had consumed too many espressos that morning.
During this leg, which took us towards the A1 for the northern route, James and I had an opportunity to road test some of the bike features. For example, we discovered that during a 3rd Gear roll on test the GS smashed the R but the R was back on top when we changed the test to a 4th Gear roll on test. The GS has better fuel range than the R, but the R has more top end with slightly better brakes.
By the end of the trip I think I can comfortably say the GS was better for the long trip, given the extra leg room and height. The screen on the GS also helps. Each time I looked back on the motorways I could see James’ gangly figure tucked in like Frankie Detori, or was he spooning it?
The A1 and M62 past Ferrybridge and then A55 to Bangor went by in a blur of motorway miles with bluetooth headsets and Amazon music to the rescue. We shared on Instagram the jubilation (or was it relief) of reaching the next corners but the best was yet to come. We knew we could make it. Bangor was half way and now we were heading home.
The stories of the Red Dragon, so synonymous with Wales, lie in both myth and fact. I can say that the roads in Wales are like the Dragon both mythical and factual, a true treat. The only trouble with these slinky black ribbons that wind through the proclaimed God’s Country and the numerous villages, is that they slow the overall progress. That said, we enjoyed carving our way through the breathtaking Welsh scenery and we even took time out to stop for photos.
Let’s not forget that the Saddlesore is not a race but a challenge to be enjoyed at every opportunity. Taking motorways and major A roads is easier but not as enjoyable. Remember the highs and lows? This was a high.
At Haverfordwest we took a much-needed break, went live on Instagram and grabbed food. We were ahead of the worst case scenario but behind the earliest time of arrival, we were in good shape. Spirits were high but we also knew that we would be leaving behind the best of the riding.
Heading to Exeter was going to be a slog. A combination of motorway and major A roads with these amazing little yellow-coloured devices to help verify our average speed at every opportunity, how helpful? Night fell over Wales and we drew into what would be the most dangerous section. Because the G310s were doing 150-170 miles on a tank we stopped frequently and looking back on this it was a strategy that kept us fresh.
In general we felt driving standards to be very good across the UK, I only had one moment where a van decided to shift from the left lane on the roundabout to take the right exit, so cutting straight in front of me. My eyes were high and so it was all under control but, despite what is implied by roadcraft, I am only human and I did share universally acknowledged hand signals for indicating which direction the driver should have taken. Both duly acknowledged with apologetic hands from the driver that implied “sorry mate I didn’t see you’’. No harm, no foul, let’s crack on with the ride.
At Exeter we took stock. I grab out the inner jacket for my trusty StreetGuard Suit, which has never let me down. If there was one criticism of the bikes it has to be the headlights. If buying the G310GS, I would add the BMW Auxiliary Lights. I had to use what amounted to a tealight candle to cut a path along the A35 in the complete darkness. It is rather eerie with no roadside lighting. Fortunately, the risk of wildlife taking a kamikaze run kept the adrenaline flowing. I had to draw on every ounce of experience to keep systematic.
Ah the true challenge begins, no longer about the 33hp performance but now about the head handling fatigue and picking the right riding lines at night. On the A35 coming to Dorchester we caught up to a car that was making good and safe progress. I took the decision to follow. The car’s main beam bringing an early dawn to the night sky, I could see again. James, my constant shadow, summarised this route beautifully. A challenge mentally and a test of the bike as I had to fight for quick corrections, which the bike gave me every time I asked, although I would probably have shod the G310GS with different rubber, as the feel is not great at the edge of the tyre.
A splash and dash at Ringwood gave an opportunity to observe interesting local life venturing out in the wee hours. Judging the condition and stagger of this specimen I dare say that staying at home would have been a better shout. These are some of the risks with night riding, yet fewer patrols and more yellow devices on poles in the sky are suggested to be the correct strategy.
From Ringwood it was fairly simple riding to Brighton. The roads were lit up like the daytime and a kaleidoscope of cats-eyes gave me a runway strip to aim for. Still eyes wide open. A brief detour around the outside of Brighton following diversion signs put a small dent in our time, but we knew we had this in the bag, we knew the bikes were solid. It would only be our own misjudgment that would let the side down. We’re going to make it!
I enjoy working for BMW; it is a brilliant Brand to work with. Likewise I don’t think many people would say, at around two in the morning, that they would be looking forward to heading to work, however, we were two such people. James had reached the point of, ‘let’s get this over with’ and wanted to rush the Brighton fuel stop. I did slow things down deliberately to ensure we left with the right mindset. We had a long 50mph Average Speed Camera stint to do and we needed to keep focused. These were the banker miles. Brighton was 1000 and everything else was dotting i’s and crossing the t’s.
We rolled into Guildford before 3:30am. An almost anticlimactic feeling crept over us. A combination of relief, excitement, tiredness and the realisation we had to ride home. Where’s my bed? After photos, we both said to each other “stay safe”, knowing that most accidents happen close to home. This final part is a word of caution. On my way home I knocked back the speed, even in nationals to around 45mph. Exiting a village towards the wood, I came round a corner to see a deer exit the woods. I was in the correct road position so handled the situation by slowing and pulling across the road. The deer and I play another day.
Lightning can strike twice, about two miles up the road another deer bolted from the woods and again I duly manoeuvred around. Bambi and I head off to tell this tale. Don’t drop your guard after the perceived Iron Butt finishing line, the finish is at home in bed.
My thanks to the following groups for promotion and members donations: my IAM group TVAM, Thames Valley ROSPA and Southern BMW Owners Group. A special thanks to my wife and family for their support. My wife’s remark was a word of thanks to BMW, the G310 did not wake her up upon my return. If you do wish to contact me about BMW or the trip then please email me simon_forder@hotmail.com. Finally, thank you to everyone who donated to https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/vinesbikesfundraising or in the pots. We think combined we have just about reached our target, post-event donations still very welcome!
Simon Forder
First published in Slipstream September 2019