Racing in yellow

This was intended to be my farewell post but a middle-of-the-night, soul-searching wrangle drew me to change my mind. My normally right-way-up world has been spinning topsy-turvy. I put mountains of emotion into this effort and it wears me thin. I need to ration my time and make room for matters which are very important to me. I will be posting less frequently and taking breaks for I need to step back a little. I will enjoy each comment as I always have but I cannot commit to replying individually. I have my muse and need time to stretch and flex in private.

Bluesy Blues

Muscle and bone, just a routine miracle in carbon and water
stardust capable of greatness but condemned to obscurity.
Notionally intelligent while screaming insane.
Excuse me while I break my own heart.

Gimme a bitter placebo or slip me a strong panacea.
Just gimme pretend meds to mend my pretend head,
a wasted waster wasting his decades.
Excuse me while I numb my own heart.

Stinging tears screamed and howled away on racing rubber.
Needle reaches vertical and my knee trails the blacktop
leaning hard into a long fast bend.
Excuse me while I smash my own heart.

An ocean evening hot and humid, deep and tight, wet and smooth,
shuddering. Sparkling waves, deliciously soft pressing sand.
Rolling to stare at the cold "maybe" stars.
Excuse me while I stamp on my heart.

Biting the top off a bottle would be so fucking simple.
Calendar, yearbook, milestones and pledges swallowed.
A screeching halt at the precipice edge.
Excuse me while I consider my heart.

"There goes my hero, he’s ordinary…"
Foo Fighters - My Hero

Yamaha YZF R1

I am too fucked to post for the foreseeable future. But at least the suicide machine arrived today. I don't think comments are needed for this.

Blue Test Rocket

Who in their right mind needs this? Well it's not about need it's about want. The nice man at the Yamaha Dealership tossed me the keys and said, "Go and enjoy yourself!" So I did...

The Yamaha YZF R1 is a 1000cc Superbike of epic proportions, you need to experience 0-60mph in around three seconds to realise what it feels like - I can't describe it adequately. Not can I explain how keeping the throttle on and watching the needle sail past 100 in 5 seconds feels.

Suffice to say I enjoyed this afternoon. In truth the performance tests were completed on quiet empty roads, the rest of the ride I spent swinging through city centre streets marvelling at the sure-footed handling. Make no mistake this is a track capable bike with headlights yet it is demure, nimble and respectable if you want it to be. It won't let you down in polite company but one flick of the wrist unleashes a wild animal.

Watch for more pictures - I have placed an order...

Cars and bikes

Ford Sierra Sapphire 1.8 GLS - probably my favourite.
And here on Through the Lens are the other vehicles I have driven, raced and polished over the years.

My New Black Rocket

 

I started riding motorcycles in 1979. I rode three hundred and sixty five days a year, rain or shine. My fingers turned yellow with poor circulation. Everywhere I went I arrived cold, wet and asking for somewhere to hang my leathers. We did the weekly shop by bike and rode the bus when we took the kids out. Finally in 1987 I succumbed to the inevitable pull of four wheels and a roof. I sold my last bike, a Yamaha XS750 and bought a Ford Cortina.

Eighteen years later I am hopping nervously from one foot to the other in a Yamaha Dealership. The guy says I can test ride the FZ6 just by showing him my licence! Thank fuck I passed my test in’79. Nowadays it’s all Compulsory Basic Training, Practice and Theory and wiggling between traffic cones. Even if you pass they make you ride a miniature sewing machine for two years!

Slinging my leg over the seat I start to feel apprehensive, Eighteen years off a bike is a long time. These things go like rocket-ships now don’t they? What if I’ve lost my nerve? The guy thumbs the starter for me and the four-stroke burbles.

“It’s running in, keep it below 5,000rpm.” He advises. “See you in an hour!

I peer at the dial, hell this baby sings all the way to 14,000rpm!

With just a touch too much throttle and a precautionary glance over my shoulder I pull out onto the highway. For ten minutes I snake through a deserted industrial estate, familiarising myself with balance, weight and power at low speeds. This is all coming back to me...

Now I take to the main roads again. Two gear changes and its pulling seventy mph. I ease off for a roundabout and take it like a chicane, flick left, right then left and accelerate hard. I feel the old familiar buffeting of the wind and tears streak from the corners of my eyes. God this is fun!

Back to residential streets and I zip around the houses feeling the brakes and suspension working. After half an hour my gear changes are quite smooth and I’m at home again. Yep, I’m sold. This one’s for me.

---

That was two weeks ago. Right now a spanking new example sits in my garage. Nice new leathers, crash helmet and gloves too.

For the technical this is a 600cc four-cylinder fuel-injected, four stroke. Liquid cooling makes it nice and quiet and its fat 180mm rear tyre sticks to the road like glue. 98bhp and six gears haul it from 0-60mph in 3.9 seconds. Disc brakes all round stop it from 130mph on a sixpence (dime.)

I’m gonna be a fair weather weekend rider. Sure I’ll slide a knee on the road for fast, tight corners that’s what you do! But I know I’m mortal and I have no plans to bring forward my departure date! I intend to have some fast(-ish) safe fun. Twenty years ago I had a huge ‘off’ which put me in hospital so I know the limits.

---

This is an old interest rekindled, a link to some good memories and happy times. I believe this is a good move for me. I have music and now I have a bike. Life is getting richer and fuller. Not a cheap investment at all but add up what a drinker spends. In a future post I’ll explain how I saved a small fortune in the last eleven years by quitting booze.

Growing Up Fast

A memory recorded from age 14 when I was so very impressionable

Michael C mentioned nonchalantly he was riding his motor bike that evening in the woods behind Bournemouth School for Boys. I pedaled furiously to Charminster after tea, arriving in time to see him astride a lean speedway bike. He was rolling with the engine off down the slope of the school’s main entrance. I took in the blue bib of the Poole Pirates and the red cotton scarf knotted around his neck. There was no helmet to restrain his lank, unwashed locks. Scarcely able to believe my eyes I followed and watched him bump start the mighty steed and crackle off through the trees, the bike’s front wheel pawing the air in impressive style.

Raw, high-octane exhaust lingered in the close confines of the woods and thunder from the unsilenced pipe barked and echoed to such an alarming extent that surely everyone for miles around must have heard. He demonstrated consummate control over the machine, a single cylinder 500cc BSA and close cousin of the speedway bikes I saw each week at Poole Stadium. There were no brakes of course yet he roared fearlessly between the menacing trees, carving stylish broadsides. A group of envious hangers on had drifted by so when Mike suddenly offered the mount to me I had an audience. I swung my leg over the small brown leather seat and gripped the wide bars. I weaved unsteadily between the trees and moments later steered the throbbing beast back to him unscathed. He confided that he had a second identical bike at home, which he cannibalised for spare parts to keep this one running. What a man!

After that I often met him in the woods but nothing compared to that first exhilarating evening. Once the police arrived in response to complaints from residents. Mike took the interruption in his stride even having the temerity to engage one officer in conversation about the specifications of the bike! The slightly bemused constables made him push it home.

Excerpt from Memoirs Chapter 3 - 1969-1975, “In Verbo Tuo”