So much road…dear 2016

Another post that didn’t get published. Perhaps prophetically. See the footnote.

2016 seems like the year things just finally went bananas. I’ve seen older folk lose friends and becoming gradually more isolated in their own peninsular lives. This has always had a poignancy but I feel more kinship with this after a year  that has seen the end of so many things; jobs, people, politics, integrity, even normality itself.

So, it might be easy to become despondent, but there’s a bright spot for me. In July I started as a volunteer at Sammy Miller’s Motorcycle Museum (that’s quite a mouthful for the telephone, ending with ‘how can I help you..?’ then a pause for breath.)

I wrote about my first visit to the Museum some time back.

https://somuchroad.wordpress.com/2013/08/27/so-much-road-sammy-miller-motorcycle-museumhttpsomuchroad-files-wordpress-com201308dsc_2180-jpg/

This local attraction is rightly acclaimed throughout the Biking world as a kind of Mecca for the two-wheeled afficionado. It could be bigger, more successful even, if it was within the scope of any major centre of population, but it nestles down here on the edges of the New Forest, and it shares its seasonal cycle with the rest of the area; shutting down to just weekend opening from December to February. Even the famous Bashley Manor Tea Rooms on the same site closes for a few days over Christmas.

Mr Miller, MBE is now 83, looking quite a bit older than most of the more familiar fresh-faced images in his racing/trials days. Yet he handles the bikes with some skill..

 

The epilogue.

Well, they do say that you should never meet your heroes. I’ve learned a lot over the last 18 months. There’s a lot going on behind the scenes in that sleepy Hampshire bike mausoleum, not all of it good and not all of bright portent for the future of the attraction. Suffice it to say that after what seemed like a promising start Mr.Miller and myself eventually found a mutual dislike for each other. That’s by no small means an exclusive club that I found myself joining. Toxic personalities tend to leave one disappointed. A great motorcyclist, without doubt. But a great man? Oh no. 

So much road..let’s ride!!

A blog entry that I wrote around a year ago and which then fell through the cracks…

 

Ride Outs eh? What’s that all about then?

I would say that at any time in the daylight hours, in the UK anyway, a group of bikes are making their way from A to B and back, possibly using different routes inbound and out, possibly ticking the ‘bendiness/windiness’ box on the SatNav for added variety. The treat of going for a ‘spin’ in the car might have gone out of fashion but the concept is alive and kicking back the shrouds in the biking world. I’m on shaky ground, but I’m reasonably sure that a Ride Out will involve two or more machines. The solo aspect of biking is for another time.

I haven’t had a Winter lay off this year. Too much to do. I’ve ridden, eagerly, in -5 Celsius temperatures that had a petrol station attendant giving me a cup of hot water to facilitate first the extraction of my key from the ignition and then to thaw the locked petrol cap. All to get to a Meet Up.

The Meet Up. This is the first event of the day. Like a Meet, but the Up makes it a more temporary affair. McD’s are popular for this. Service stations, car parks and laybys, all suffice. Thank goodness it’s still lawful to assemble in sometimes quite sizeable groups. Everyone has made it so far. Although we weren’t that sure who said they would be there and who has just turned up out of the blue etc. Coffee, breakfast. Yes, you may use the bathroom, but haven’t you fuelled up yet? Time goes by. The precise moment of departure becomes fairly fluid as a concept. And is the previously agreed destination still written in stone? Are all the Bluetooth gizmos talking to each other?

The Route. Nobody thinks it is a good idea to use Motorways. Too messy. The cars have a different agenda and multiple bikes are just obstacles – sometimes darned fast, but the Audis do relish a challenge. A Class roads are best. Maybe with occasional Dual Carriageways to gather the stragglers in (not, my esteemed leader, for the fast riders to twist the throttle and draw even further ahead). B roads get icy and muddy and have random patches of gravel on tight bends. Farm tracks are for the seriously off-piste.

The De-briefing. Who doesn’t want the day to end? Coffee and a chinwag?

 

So many roads… how many miles per hour.

A tacit premise in the writing of this erstwhile blog is that I will inevitably contradict myself in what I choose to discuss, in the main, with myself. This may happen here. I don’t know yet. Maybe.

I’m finding riding a bike to be an evolving (and involving) pastime with many pleasurable and quite a few beguiling aspects. Having wondered in the past what sort of rider I had the potential to become, I think the answer is becoming clearer. I think it’ll be quite evident by the end of this.

I went on a ride today. An organised run. It turned out to be a mistake. It wasn’t what I expected and I’m having some difficulty processing my feelings over it, and where it leaves me. And the bike. You lucky reader.

A fact or two – to begin with. Motorcycling is a high-adrenaline, high-risk, physically demanding sporty diversion from what could otherwise be a mundane life. It ranks with climbing up things, jumping off or out of things etc as a fast and effective way to commit suicide if you choose, or to die anyway if you just make the wrong thing happen once to often.

I don’t know much about those other things, but I would say that biking seems to be the least regulated of them all. Not only do you not have to carry a large amount of personal injury insurance, but you get to perform in the public space with massive potential to involve the innocent public. You might think that would impart a sense of social responsibility. Another thing about those other things – experienced practitioners don’t take uncalculated risks and don’t have much time for those that do. Nobody in those other  sports bangs on about personal freedom either. By the by, speaking to a highly experienced sky diver recently, among many other insights he revealed that he had never been near a motorbike – too dangerous apparently.

So, to get to the nub of it. The ride. No names. But lots of bikes. Twenty or more, sporting, snorting street-legal racing machines. Not all of them, but a fair few. And all capable of 130mph or so. As is mine. But. What’s a fair speed in a 50mph zone? 100mph? More? After all, if you form a pack of 20 or more bikes the follow-my-leaders are having to go some to keep up. But what harm if you get away with it and don’t present a danger to Joe or Jane Public or their offspring in the back? How much notice should you take of road markings and other road users. Mere decoration? Often just a minor obstacle? Oncoming drivers should be able to cope with the mild shock of you closing on them rapidly at a cumulative 170mph?

This was just one ride. At our destination there were a fair few bikes, Potentially having ridden in the same style on their way in. My impression from my ivory tower some way back is that one day there will be a reckoning. One rider gone, and he’ll be a hero. A great biker, who lived and died for it. Let’s have another ride in his honour. Two or three? A tragic accident. How many in one incident would actually make anyone think whether it was too much egging-on, too much risk-taking, that somehow individual responsibility is not enough. Someone planned it, and they generally ride it too. Is part of the fault in their hands? There have been moves to fine the leaders of a pack if other members fall foul of speed laws.

So, I’m a medium paced rider. I find I go slower when I’m solo, even slower when I am carrying a pillion, but if asked, in a group run, with friends who care as much for my welfare as I do for theirs, I’ll stretch the speed limit a bit. But don’t ask me to ignore it as if I wrote all the rules. If I can’t keep up with you in traffic, it probably isn’t me riding illegally and I won’t ride with you twice if I think you are an idiot. That’s how I intend to survive till I can ride no more.

 

So much road…the social aspect.

‘I’m not the kind of man who tends to socialise..‘ Paul Simon and me. And apparently my brother, who said a thing to me recently. About something he told his neighbour once and has been never allowed to forget. About being friendly but not sociable.

‘Ah yes, C____, I remember. You’re friendly but not sociable!!’
‘Can I introduce C____? He’s…’

Regrets? He doesn’t have a bad life but he has at least that one.

There are endless possibilities within the biking sphere for meeting, making friends with, and falling out with people. Bike Nights, Meets – either bring what you have or Owner-specific (so why have they arrived on a Triumph/Harley?) groups, Ride-outs, Breakfast Clubs, even Dating Services. I’ve got myself involved with all but the last one; I’m happy with the bikes, and the girl. A couple of things have happened this week that have me wondering if the curmudgeonly gene runs through the males of our family like milk through porridge.

We have a weekly Meet which overlaps with a Breakfast Club, and which morphs into Ride-outs – and doubtless, Dating Services; I haven’t been around enough to notice but I’ve heard the odd thing. It has been suggested that it wasn’t even necessary to own a bike to attend what we laughingly call the Secret ___day Club – it’s pretty open, that secret; a committee of hundreds. And I suddenly noticed that a few people don’t. Have bikes. I’ve had to pause for thought on this. Chacun à son goût, they might say, but what about mon goût? I’m not saying I should shut non-bikers out of my life, but come on – you don’t have a bike? You don’t even talk about bikes… What else is there to do among the denim and leather waistcoats and the patches saying ‘Live to Ride’ or ‘My other bike’s a Guzzi too, actually’..

Isn’t one of the reasons for a bike meet to.. oh never mind. It’s just me. Friendly but not sociable.

So much road . . but will I ever start the journey?

I muse quietly to myself that my last post was over a year ago. As we all must do, I started with enthusiasm, hoping to blog at least weekly, but things get in the way and I don’t get any reward for doing this; no remuneration, and certainly no attention. So whoever you might be, you’re welcome to eavesdrop, but this has devolved into a form of soliloquy. To be or not to be. Dunno – who’s asking? Helloooooooooooo!!

So. Last year I had new BT45s put on Calista, the ’94 California 1100. The new rubber hasn’t done much to alleviate the headshake when I cross lanes and the tendency to tramline. I’m thinking either wheel or headstock bearings, or both. A bike has to have better handling than that.

It probably hasn’t helped that I have invested in another Guzzi, a 2006 Breva 1100, which is like chalk and cheese to the Cali. Everything is light and nimble, despite a mere 10kg difference in weight between the two bikes. Being about average height, I was concerned about the 30inch seat height but both feet are firmly on the floor. Handling has been rock solid, re-inspiring a confidence I was rapidly losing with Calista and her rut grabbing front end. I have to say I’m enjoying the experience.

 I’m not overly keen on the top-box. Useful space, but ugly.

So there I am. Two steeds in the stable. One solid cob with good lines and one handsome hack.

Keep in touch.

So much road but not enough rubber

I spent much of this year riding short distances back and forth to work a couple of times a day, weather permitting. I suppose it was inevitable that I would see the end of at least one of the tyres on Calista during this period. The short, choppy journeys with no real time to warm up have worn the rubber very quickly. Now, with a wobble and a squirm, not to mention a touch of shimmy over the white lines, I have been forced to invest in complete new rubber, so I have gone for matching Bridgestone BT45 Battlax fore and aft. In good condition these are excellent hard-wearing tyres for both dry and wet. It says here… But then again several people have now advised me against my choice. How to win? Make your own decisions and live with the consequences.

Money is excruciatingly tight these days. No tycoon with a stable of Italian fillies, me. I just didn’t have the cash to have the rubber supplied and fitted. In the end I found brand new tyres very cheaply over the internet, cheap enough to avoid any thought of part-worn footwear, and they arrived smartly on the Monday having been ordered on the Thursday. I won’t tire you further with the extended saga of the front tyre. I got it in the end. All my own fault, I have to say.

Rather than rolling up to the tyre fitting place wrapped in tyres, like a Michelin man in negative, I was now faced with having to extract the wheels from Calista so I could get these reshod for a reasonable £15 apiece. Time for a photo or two. Note the Italian theme going on in the driveway.

Looks something like a bizarre rocking horse, but this is what you must do if you don’t have anything remotely like a lift in your possession. Removing the front wheel first saves a lot of dismantling. Stick a pallet in the way and lift, then rest the sump on a piece of wood – hence the quarter log. At some point the left knee under the front mudguard supplies the lifting force, and your right hand positions the wood. This position allows the front wheel to drop out. Removing the wood then lifts the back wheel high enough to be rolled out. After you remove some of the chromed brightwork that is.

In the photos, the lady still looks an elegant machine, but she lives outside too much to stay pristine and is frankly a lot tatty. So there is a bit of primping to be done.

The wheels. A combination of shiny alloy and oxide-coated aluminium. The aluminium came out of the factory painted, but that has peeled. Hammerite black has fixed that problem for now.

Some more photos to illustrate. Getting in past the spokes was always going to be tough, but at least the alloy is gleaming.

 The rear wheel transformed; the front for contrast. It is a shame that much of the rejuvenation will be hidden by the brake discs, but they’ve had a bit of work done too.

By the application of a little effort, I brought the fitting cost down to £10 per wheel; I took the tyres off myself. Again, I was hampered by the lack of workshop equipment and frankly the youtube videos are made by tricksters who would have you believe that a shovel and a bottle of washing up liquid is all it takes. The bead is firmly stuck in place by a combination of bead sealant and about 10 very stiff wires, hidden within the tyre wall. More worried about damaging the alloy than my hands, I set to work. More photos.

I won. But look how little rubber there is left on that centre line in the left pic. I thought it had become easier to get my feet flat to the ground. With my inside leg measurement, every millimetre counts. I had also thought I attacked corners with gusto, but the tread not too distant from the centre line puts the lie to that.

 

So much, just up the road. V Twin Rally 2014.

Here we are again, with another V Twin under our belts.

Next year (2015) this auspicious event celebrates the 40th Anniversary of the Moto Guzzi Club GB and we have tentatively decided that we might, just might, do the overnight camping thing. This is a ridiculous idea. The event is sited in Fordingbridge – the original one, in England, for the sake of any overseas visitors who might be aware of another – just six terrestrial miles from where we habitually lay our hats. The tent is a 6 berth job that demands to be transported by car. Now I’d love to drag it behind Calista in a trailer, but the need for authenticity might then demand a detour of at least 50 miles just to get some distance under the wheels. The reality will probably see both car and bike in the car park on a couple of occasions.

The International V Twin 2014, then. This, l’evento più illustre del calendario Moto Guzzi GB, was apparently kicked off by the Harley Davidson Owners Group or Club, way back when. The MGCGB took over the running of it, and more Guzzis now turn up than H-D’s – a complete reversal of every other biking event I’ve been to lately. It isn’t exclusive. The V Twin configuration, longitudinal or laterally fitted, is what is being celebrated – although how this justifies people turning up on various models of Triumph, I’m not sure.

Some pictures..

 mmm, one of several Victories. Nice swoopy lines…

 and flames, got to have flames…

 busy doing nothing…

  

 Calista is allowed to appear twice.

 

 

and finally, what it is all about; just a bit of fun…

 

 

So much road not travelled…

Really, this is getting embarrassing, as C3PO might have said in fluting tones.

My last entry was in December, almost a riding season away.

It isn’t that Calista has stayed idle and unused during that time. She is actually out on most days, often in the worst of the weather, doing what she is designed for. And we’ve had a few trips out, occasionally grossing 200 miles in a day. North to Buckinghamshire for family visits, West to Beaulieu for the Ride-In Day, slightly South to the Italia Corsa day at Sammy Miller’s, and further South for a sweltering Sunday on Poole Quay.

There have been ailments and malfunctions; a dodgy relay had me stranded at a service station hunting for a spark which mysteriously re-appeared after an hour and got me home, only to then become completely elusive for a week. I doubted the coils, the crank sensor, the Digiplex EI unit and learned some things about Calista that I should perhaps have known already. All was cured with a can of component cleaner, which I now consider a part of my everyday riding insurance alongside my waterproof suit.

With any luck, the next ride out should be to the V-Twin at Fordingbridge. Last year’s event was a let-down. For various reasons we didn’t get to meet many other Guzzista, who as a group didn’t seem nearly as inclusive as we had anticipated. We recently met with the Solent branch of the MGCGB, gained a completely different impression, and had a really good evening talking Guzzi. We’re now looking to give the V-Twin a second try.

Buona Fortuna tutto.

 

 

So much road… an update of sorts

It has been a while since I wrote anything in this blog. It is now getting on for 3 months since I last rode Calista, the Guzzi California 1100, and I have to say that I miss our trips out a lot. The end of the riding season was imposed both by the end of September, which would normally herald the start of colder Autumn days and equinoctial winds, and by the Tax Disk running out. As luck would have it the windy season largely held off till December, and I think we’ve had one overnight frost thus far, so there has been much temptation to just head off for a mile or so along the lanes with little chance of encountering the law. Just to warm her up a bit, you know. But I know that I would then be tempted to head off somewhere and in my poor circumstances I can’t afford to run foul of regulations.

So I’ll have to leave her to overwinter, and just occasionally stare at her…

Examine some of her finer details…

Reminisce over memorable times… 

And apply some positive thinking…

A presto, everyone. Ciao!!

So much road… Sammy Miller Motorcycle Museum

So, having attended the International V-Twin Rally on Saturday, with a renewed enthusiasm for riding Calista we travelled all of 6 miles from home to visit Sammy Miller’s Motorcycle Museum near Bashley.

More info here… http://sammymiller.co.uk/

For this weekend, they were kindly charging just £4 each to members of the Moto Guzzi Club GB.

Naturally, being the August Holiday the roads were busyish; but the museum itself was surprisingly quiet. Just right for the kind of mooching around we like to do. My suggestion would be to go round once, get something from the cafe, and then go round again. Mr Miller was apparently on the Isle of Man, so a couple of exotica were missing – no ‘Porcupine’ AJS for example, but they do occasionally roll some of the machinery out and start them up for the delectation and delight of the public.

I took a few pics. No real themes. My motives vary with photos. The layout doesn’t really lend itself to shots of whole bikes but often it’s something in the shape of a particular model that appeals. For example, everything just came together in this Ducati because the metalwork just seemed to flow around its engine.

And a 60s British attempt at similar styling…

Some of the tanks showed more of this diminishing flair for creating shapes from sheet metal, and of course there is the entirely appropriate use of the red end of the spectrum.

Some even showed the signs of being hewn into shape from the bare metal.

Often it’s the mechanical parts that appeal. Some of these just invite you to get a chair and sit in contemplation…

 Rickman, built just up the road at New Milton.

The badges and regalia, harking back to times when so many marques flourished…

       

Finally, some memorabilia, old and new..