Motorcycling - The truth.
Created | Updated Mar 12, 2002
By the time I was 17 a lot of my friends had graduated from mopeds up to 125's and of course the 125 to have at the time was the RD125LC known simply as an LC. She was fast, err-ish, she looked good and blew up all the time as all two strokes should (b*****ds). Many a happy hour was spent on a mates LC flying around at night, in the wet, barely in control. I remember one night a guy called Yob (I don't know why he was called that, for you couldn't have met a quieter kid. (Shouts to you Yob if your out there). He once wrote a deer off you know, on his bike mind you and lived to tell us all about it in grisly detail, but that's a different story), lent me his Mk2 LC and let me free on the queens highway, but the thing is it was thick fog and visibility was down to about 3 Foot. Did that deter me? Did it b*****y. I was being offered a go on an LC and would have gone out in a hurricane (the wind not the plane, though I'll have go in one of the latter if your offering). There are certain rules to abide to when on a friends bike and they are as follows...
1 When riding away from said friend always abide by the highway code, make good all round observations, then pull away slowly and under control.
2 When it has been judged that you are out of earshot of aforementioned owner drop down four gears and nail the throttle open.
3 On no account should you remain within the speed limit. ( Joking aside I wouldn't recommend these antics in a built up area).
4 On seeing another vehicle travelling the same way, be it another bike, a car or indeed a tractor then that vehicle must be overtaken in the most dangerous way possible in the circumstances. You know when you've done good job, when the rider, driver, farmer (delete as applicable) raises his right, hand gestures violently and flashes his lights. This is nothing to worry about, after all we see the F1 guys doing that all the time. The second judge of how scary the manoeuvre was will be your heart rate. If it's pumping in your mouth then it was a success, if it's not pumping at all then your dead and you shouldn't be reading this.
5 On finding a straight piece of road you must bury your head in the clocks and try and break your own land speed record.
6 Some people are worried about revving someone else's bike to high in case it blows up, this is rubbish all borrowed bikes can be revved well into the red with no dire consequences.
7 The above rule does not include you're own bike, rev it high and she'll blow. Don't say I didn't warn you.
8 On returning to the owner, do so at a reasonable speed so as to allay his fears. Then, when asked, say you had a lovely quiet ride around, mention the comfort of the seat, the good layout of the clocks and the general tidiness of the bike. When pushed about speeds attained casually shrug and say " I dunno somewhere around 60-ish" on no account should you really tell them, or you'll never get another go.
9 On walking away from friend go immediately to other friends and tell them what you really got up to. Embellish your story with tales of racing against XR3i's, chases by the police and add a least 20mph to your real speed attained. This will make you a hero and a God amongst men. Honest.
....where was I? Oh yes, this particular night the fog was of the freezing veriety, everyone's favourite. So off I went, obeying rule No1 to the letter. Because of the thickness of the surrounding air I new that sound wouldn't travel very far so it soon came time for me to let her rip. She pulled quite well given the moisture in the air and I soon had her going at a fair old lick, the only problem being I couldn't actually see where I was going! I thought about using the force but my Jedi powers are weak and I couldn't, despite what Obi Wan was telling me, "trust my feelings". So I decided instead to trust the white lines, which served me quite well until out of the grey gloom loomed a large lorry. To this day I don't know how it missed me, it certainly shook me up enough to make me realise that my antics weren't exactly very safe. So I decided to take the bike to a nearby dual carriageway for my Lands Speed Record attempt (it had lights you see), The road, which will remain nameless because I don't know the statute of limitations for riding like a maniac, has roundabouts at each end giving you a chance to ride one way to get the feel of the bike and then the other way like hell for leather. ( I don't actually know what that means, does anyone?) Sort of like a measured mile. Well on the down leg everything was fine apart from the fact I still couldn't see, instead of a grey gloom it was now an orange glow from the sodium lights, oh well. I rounded the roundabout (that sounds stupid!) and started the up leg, body flat on the tank, head just peeking over the clocks I opened her up and started counting the revs, 10,500 into 3rd ,4th,5th and finally top gear, now eyes flicking between speedo and ahead heart pumping faster the needle slowly climbs from 80 through to 85, 90, 93, this is it, I think I could break the ton tonight , the wind is howling around me, it's icy fingers trying to rip me off the bike, the buffeting is intense, my whole body is screaming at me to ease off, slow down, get off and walk, but still my eyes are flicking between the speedo and the road, more on the speedo now as it crawls ever so slowly towards the 100mph mark, 94 , I think I'll ease off at 95 it's still a record and still the throttle's wide open, I want the ton, I need the ton, I know I must be fast running out of road, 96, but still the throttles nailed, 97, I'm almost in a dream, the outside world is becoming blurred somehow not real, the bikes howling engine is lost to me in the freezing gale, engine revving so high, it's vibration is tingling my feet, soothing me, egging me on, 98, suddenly something flashes past my right side, with horror I realise it's the sign welcoming down leg drivers to Hull, which means that I'm about to hit a roundabout at just under (b*****d) 100mph. I grab as much front brake as I dare in the conditions and gently tickle the back, sat up in the air stream making myself as big as possible I nurse the bike down from speed, chanting all the time Oh God come on girl,stay with me, don't go falling over, praying I have enough straight left, s**t there it is, I'm in too hot. Leaning to the right I enter, no cars, that's a blessing, still trying to squeeze the brakes, bleed of some speed before the left flick, but it's too late, I'm there I can't go straight on so I have to flick left, front's gone all squishy and I just know she's goner let go, so I nail the throttle again in the vain hope that what I'd been reading in Performance Bikes was true i.e. the front won't let go if you're on the power. The front felt better but it was the rear that felt very funny now. Before I could even react the back started to slide, the telltale rise in revs, the back wheel trying to overtake the front and that horrible sick feeling you get in your stomach. But I could see the exit, there in all it's foggy glory. I countered the slide and straightened the bike and still under power, I raced away. (Coincidentally some other friends of mine where stood outside the pub next to the roundabout when I went by, they talked for weeks about this nutter who flew down the straight and nearly lost it on the roundabout in thick fog. Whenever this was mentioned I would just shuffle my feet and whistle tuneless nothings.) On returning to Yob I was obviously still a bit shaken up I went through the obligatory "60-ish" routine but I was shaking so violently that I had to go inside "club" and have a long cool smoke and still I couldn't stop shaking. I think the combination of the adrenaline from nearly killing myself and the freezing cold winds was really going to make me pay.
I think really the morel of this story is if you're going to borrow a friends bike in freezing fog then wear a warmer jacket!
1 When riding away from said friend always abide by the highway code, make good all round observations, then pull away slowly and under control.
2 When it has been judged that you are out of earshot of aforementioned owner drop down four gears and nail the throttle open.
3 On no account should you remain within the speed limit. ( Joking aside I wouldn't recommend these antics in a built up area).
4 On seeing another vehicle travelling the same way, be it another bike, a car or indeed a tractor then that vehicle must be overtaken in the most dangerous way possible in the circumstances. You know when you've done good job, when the rider, driver, farmer (delete as applicable) raises his right, hand gestures violently and flashes his lights. This is nothing to worry about, after all we see the F1 guys doing that all the time. The second judge of how scary the manoeuvre was will be your heart rate. If it's pumping in your mouth then it was a success, if it's not pumping at all then your dead and you shouldn't be reading this.
5 On finding a straight piece of road you must bury your head in the clocks and try and break your own land speed record.
6 Some people are worried about revving someone else's bike to high in case it blows up, this is rubbish all borrowed bikes can be revved well into the red with no dire consequences.
7 The above rule does not include you're own bike, rev it high and she'll blow. Don't say I didn't warn you.
8 On returning to the owner, do so at a reasonable speed so as to allay his fears. Then, when asked, say you had a lovely quiet ride around, mention the comfort of the seat, the good layout of the clocks and the general tidiness of the bike. When pushed about speeds attained casually shrug and say " I dunno somewhere around 60-ish" on no account should you really tell them, or you'll never get another go.
9 On walking away from friend go immediately to other friends and tell them what you really got up to. Embellish your story with tales of racing against XR3i's, chases by the police and add a least 20mph to your real speed attained. This will make you a hero and a God amongst men. Honest.
....where was I? Oh yes, this particular night the fog was of the freezing veriety, everyone's favourite. So off I went, obeying rule No1 to the letter. Because of the thickness of the surrounding air I new that sound wouldn't travel very far so it soon came time for me to let her rip. She pulled quite well given the moisture in the air and I soon had her going at a fair old lick, the only problem being I couldn't actually see where I was going! I thought about using the force but my Jedi powers are weak and I couldn't, despite what Obi Wan was telling me, "trust my feelings". So I decided instead to trust the white lines, which served me quite well until out of the grey gloom loomed a large lorry. To this day I don't know how it missed me, it certainly shook me up enough to make me realise that my antics weren't exactly very safe. So I decided to take the bike to a nearby dual carriageway for my Lands Speed Record attempt (it had lights you see), The road, which will remain nameless because I don't know the statute of limitations for riding like a maniac, has roundabouts at each end giving you a chance to ride one way to get the feel of the bike and then the other way like hell for leather. ( I don't actually know what that means, does anyone?) Sort of like a measured mile. Well on the down leg everything was fine apart from the fact I still couldn't see, instead of a grey gloom it was now an orange glow from the sodium lights, oh well. I rounded the roundabout (that sounds stupid!) and started the up leg, body flat on the tank, head just peeking over the clocks I opened her up and started counting the revs, 10,500 into 3rd ,4th,5th and finally top gear, now eyes flicking between speedo and ahead heart pumping faster the needle slowly climbs from 80 through to 85, 90, 93, this is it, I think I could break the ton tonight , the wind is howling around me, it's icy fingers trying to rip me off the bike, the buffeting is intense, my whole body is screaming at me to ease off, slow down, get off and walk, but still my eyes are flicking between the speedo and the road, more on the speedo now as it crawls ever so slowly towards the 100mph mark, 94 , I think I'll ease off at 95 it's still a record and still the throttle's wide open, I want the ton, I need the ton, I know I must be fast running out of road, 96, but still the throttles nailed, 97, I'm almost in a dream, the outside world is becoming blurred somehow not real, the bikes howling engine is lost to me in the freezing gale, engine revving so high, it's vibration is tingling my feet, soothing me, egging me on, 98, suddenly something flashes past my right side, with horror I realise it's the sign welcoming down leg drivers to Hull, which means that I'm about to hit a roundabout at just under (b*****d) 100mph. I grab as much front brake as I dare in the conditions and gently tickle the back, sat up in the air stream making myself as big as possible I nurse the bike down from speed, chanting all the time Oh God come on girl,stay with me, don't go falling over, praying I have enough straight left, s**t there it is, I'm in too hot. Leaning to the right I enter, no cars, that's a blessing, still trying to squeeze the brakes, bleed of some speed before the left flick, but it's too late, I'm there I can't go straight on so I have to flick left, front's gone all squishy and I just know she's goner let go, so I nail the throttle again in the vain hope that what I'd been reading in Performance Bikes was true i.e. the front won't let go if you're on the power. The front felt better but it was the rear that felt very funny now. Before I could even react the back started to slide, the telltale rise in revs, the back wheel trying to overtake the front and that horrible sick feeling you get in your stomach. But I could see the exit, there in all it's foggy glory. I countered the slide and straightened the bike and still under power, I raced away. (Coincidentally some other friends of mine where stood outside the pub next to the roundabout when I went by, they talked for weeks about this nutter who flew down the straight and nearly lost it on the roundabout in thick fog. Whenever this was mentioned I would just shuffle my feet and whistle tuneless nothings.) On returning to Yob I was obviously still a bit shaken up I went through the obligatory "60-ish" routine but I was shaking so violently that I had to go inside "club" and have a long cool smoke and still I couldn't stop shaking. I think the combination of the adrenaline from nearly killing myself and the freezing cold winds was really going to make me pay.
I think really the morel of this story is if you're going to borrow a friends bike in freezing fog then wear a warmer jacket!
