The early stages of my biking career don't paint a very good picture. I was young, stupid and in no way am I proud of any of the bad bits. But they happened and they were part of me growing up. They bear no resemblance to what I am like now.
I totally promote safe riding and all race antics should be for the track only, life is to short and the thing that I learned from my actions was that I could have hurt or killed someone.
Biking is a key to a wonderful world, to see beautiful scenery and the endless addiction of riding a good road well.
So ride safe and always think of others, nothing gives one person the right to affect another person’s life through careless actions. Remember it is others Parent(s), Sibling(s) or Children you might be putting at risk.
Good luck on your own adventure
PB
Honda CG125 Year Bought 1981
The Honda CG125, yes how I remember purchasing my first bike. Just like that feeling you get when you were a kid a Xmas. I was 17 at the time; my father had passed away that year, which although sad at the time also meant that the one obstacle that would stop my purchase had gone.
My oldest brother Robert had been a rebel in the sixties and after all the bother he got himself into my father vowed no more bikes. That’s why my other brother Sandy had to drive to his work on a Scooter. Which he maintained was more dangerous than a proper motorcycle.
My inspiration - Robert's racing sidecar in the sixties. He built it himself, I believe that it was a modified Norton featherbed frame and it housed a Vincent Black Shadow Engine. I have memories of being a small child helping him push this bike down the street.
My best mate was winching at the time and was getting desperate to get me of his back, so with a small loan from him to make up the amount required; we went to see this bike. This was in 1981, the bike 1977 CG125. I wet myself and just had to have it. It was in great condition. That was to be a different story in six month’s time.
As far as I was concerned this was a pocket rocket (Ha, that will be why a dog was able to overtake me one day and run under my front wheel and send me on my backside, that fast eh). Don't laugh but remember this was my first steed since a pushbike.
I had a reputation to live up to, yes the older brother’s reputation. Everybody who knew him would go on about how mad he was and that he was a speed demon. Although there was a difference here, I was riding an 11bhp Jap bike and he was a riding Norton 500’s and Vincent Black Shadows.
Still it was my dream so let me get on with it. It did not take me long to scrape the centre stand, so eventually off that came. The Kids would pay me £1 to scare them on the back, I did just that.
Yes the reputation was coming along nicely, hearing people saying “I wouldn’t go on the back with him he’s mad” was music to my ears. At this point you are thinking arse**** with an attitude. Yes indeed I was, the experience evolved into lunacy.
Incident 1: Took my mates sister for a spin round the block, she had harped onto me for a shot on the back. I did not want to but she kept at me. I gave in eventually and decided she would regret pestering me.
I set of round the block, this was at night, and I had removed the centre stand by now. Hit a corner and banked right over, sparks where flying everywhere. My mates & her brothers could see the corner through a gap in the block. All they could see where sparks flying everywhere. I had not come off, just grounded the pegs. At this point she is screaming blue murder to get off. Big mistake, she had pleaded with me for this and she would get off when I was ready.
She did get off and I was certainly not ready, the next time round the bend the bike gave way. I was lying on the pavement looking at the stars and staring at both her big brothers. She had landed in a hedge, she then dug herself out and through the gap of her brothers, who were busy asking me if I was ok, and there she was limping past.
Incident 2: I was serving my time as a motor mechanic and of course had to attend college for my City & Guilds. My journey man, whom I served under, just happened to be a friend of my Brother Robert. One day he gave me his old leather jacket that he wore in the sixties. He must have felt like he was giving me something he treasured as it was in good nick. Look after it he said it did me well.
The college was about 10 miles away. Every dinnertime we would go through to the next town to an amusement arcade. We would always race back, Christ we are members of the motor vehicle clan we should be fast.
It was pouring down with rain, by the time I approached this sharp right hander I was doing 50 mph. There was no way I would get round the bend in the wet. Off I came and aqua planed past the pensioners at the bus stance, I seemed to travel forever before coming to a standstill. We’ll all I could do was get the bike off the ground and get back on it. The handle bars where bent slightly and the bike was stuck in gear. I got back to the college before my mates arrived. Of course I did not let on about my slight detour for the thought of them having a good laugh.
I got home that night and sorted the bike out to a reasonable state. Well the jacket was a different story. The whole of one side was scuffed to hell. All I could think about was how the giver of this sacred jacket would react.
Despite my attempts at filling in the scuffs with a black felt tip, he noticed and rambled on about how long he had the jacket and how, I in one day had ruined it, Sorry Rob.
Incident 3: I had many other small incidents, like wrong side of the road, nearly losing it on corners etc. But all this had to end at some point. I had it in my head that I was the greatest bike rider ever. Wisdom and foresight are great things but at 17, I had neither.
It was lunchtime, I am going to nip through the town to my mates, and the one that helped me get this bike. As I blasted through the town, down a hill past a bus, I am hitting 60mph.
A car at a junction on the right hand side is trying to get out. There is traffic coming to his right towards me. He pulls out quickly to miss the traffic but has not anticipated a 60mph 17 year old death wish coming his way. He sees me but by this time he is on my side of the road.
He panic’s and slams the brakes on, he now has stopped bang on my side of the road. There is no hope for me I can’t go to the right because of the oncoming traffic that he’s just jumped. I must be going to hit him. My only hope is the junction to the left, the one that he was trying to reach. I see a couple of islands, if I could get through them I will buy some more time to stop. All this inside my head in seconds, somehow I miss his bumper, words cannot describe what I am thinking at this point, almost like the hand of god has pulled me clear to live again.
I have missed the car and I am now heading between the islands, this might just work, it’s too late the back wheel has clipped the edges of the islands. I am now grounded and rolling.
As I lay on my back, amazed that a few seconds ago I thought I was a dead man. Here I am staring up to the sky feeling no pain, no broken bones, the feeling that I am immortal, that I may well be the maddest greatest biker alive where soon to be shattered. I lifted myself from the ground and looked at the car driver who had now moved his vehicle. He exits his car shouting at me and as I begin to head towards him to have it out and defend my madness, he is pointing behind me, as I turn around I can see my bike in a pile with a body under it. I had hit a bystander, a young girl.
It was at this point that I felt like someone had pulled of my skin of invincibility, it was at this point that I could see myself as the prat that everyone else could see.
I rushed into the nearest building and phoned the Police & an Ambulance, I was a bumbling bag of nerves.
The girl was taken away. I sat in front of the police, admitting that it was my fault. They did not take all I said down. It did not matter to me as I was destroyed. I could not care if I never saw a bike again.
The girl was fine and had only bruised her knee, I went to the hospital to see her and there I was met by her angry parents.
I went to the lawyer and admitted it was my fault. At court I did the same thing, I told it as it had happened. The driver of the car stood in the dock and lied. He said that he never left his junction and that I was trying to go round the corner of the junction to fast.
He had stood there and lied. I was willing to accept all the blame, if I had not been going so fast the whole accident would not have happened. Equally if he had stayed on his on white line of the junction, I would not have had to avoid him.
There were no witnesses so I got a fine and about 7 penalty points. I sold the bike to my mate Paul, who loaned me the money and I then learned to drive a car. I had to in order to keep my job.
This was not the end of my biking career or my lunacy but only the start. However for the next three years I stayed away from bikes.
To all you would be racers out there, you are not invincible, Even the legendary Joey Dunlop (The greatest motorcycle road racer that ever lived.) came unstuck in the end so what chance does Joe bloggs have. I realized I could have affected someone else’s life through my own disregard for human life. The incident certainly changed me. Although it did not cure me totally, it certainly tamed me.
New Chapter
Honda CB100N Year Bought About 1984
Well after my previous exploits I never thought I would ride again. It was really my brother’s fault, the one who rode the scooter in the sixties. He got back into bikes via an old CZ250 that his mate sold him when the new laws came in. After a short introduction to two wheels he dually wrote the CZ 250 off after a crash with the back end of a Parked Audi. He was busy trying to sort out the faulty indicators when he ran into it.
Still this did not dampen his spirits, as he went out and bought a brand new Honda CBX550, which after 3 weeks he rode it into a telegraph poll(Born again Biker Syndrome).
For the first couple of weeks we went everywhere in the freezing cold. This did not deter me and I could feel the urge to have another bike but this time a big one.
This is where my second bike came about. I really can't remember much about the ownership; the bike was bought in dealers and was used to get me through my test.
I could have sat the old test at 17 but by this time at 20\21 years old, it was the new two part test.
I signed up with a riding school and every Saturday morning went off to do my training around the cones. This would be easier if not for two things. First a hangover every Saturday and second not understanding the instructor, this will become clearer.
So, training done in 3 weekends and it is the day of my part one test. I set of round the square coned course. As I complete the first circuit the examiner pulls me over and asks me what my clutch is for. I dually answer "for control of the machine". He sets me back on my way only to do the same thing two more times. He says to me "why don't you use the bloody thing" I replied "because your instructor told me not to".
I realised that I was onto a loser here; in his mind his instructor would not say such a thing. I quickly told him that I must have misunderstood the instructions, although to this day I could swear that's what I was told.
He could not fail me as a completed the course without hitting a single cone, I think he was amazed at my ability to balance the bike at low speeds with no clutch.
Part one in the bag and now onto the second test. As usual money was a rare commodity and the bike really needed a new chain and sprocket kit. It had already sheared one of the rear sprocket bolts. Only three to go but should see me through the test.
The only eventful thing in the test was the examiner hiding behind a tree ten times thinner than him. I had to act shocked when he walked out in front of me. I managed not to fall off with laughter. That done and test passed, when I checked the bike only one stud was left holding the sprocket on, lucky boy.
Ripped of the L plates and of to my brothers to tell him of my recent promotion to big bikes. He forgot about the test and after half an hour of waiting for him to ask me, I exploded with the news.
That was that, I sold the bike onto some young lad who turned up with his father and was about to take on his test. Hopefully the bike saw quite a few people through their test. Nothing much more to say about the bike except it did its job well and made a good little work commuter.
Yamaha RD 250 Year Bought About 1985
Oh dear the demons where to return and funnily enough this bike was red, in fact post box red and guess what I bought it from a postman.
I telephoned my brother Sandy and told him about the bike, I needed a few quid yet again to buy and Sandy obliged. We went to see the bike and it ran ok, it was cheap and my first biggish bike. Deal done and bike bought.
I used the bike as daily transport with no problems and as my confidence grew so did my speeds. One day on the way home on a Friday at peak time and travelling along a straight road, I spotted a RD125 YPVS. The rider kept looking back like he was offering a challenge. Well I bit and opened the bike right up, chasing his tail but struggling a little. It was a quick wee beastie. Still determined I got him, by which time I'm hitting 80mph in a 30mph limit. Looking back at him and thinking smart arse sorted, I then turned to look ahead, and oh no I have been so obsessed with passing him that I have overlooked the junction at the end of the road.
DeJaVU - I have been here before, no way out doomed to crash, life extinct, broken limbs, all this going through my head again in split seconds. The traffic is streaming slowly past the junction in both directions. I lock the brakes in a mad attempt to kill my speed, they screeched so loud that the cars coming down the way stopped, obviously anticipating the crunch. The traffic coming up the way had also stopped as someone was turning into my Junction.
Then there like the dividing of the sea, was my space between two cars and my only hope of survival. I popped the bike up the opposite pavement, sped past the hedge at the local pub, an older gent on the path jumped straight into the pubs hedge to avoid me. Adrenalin running high, all I could think about was getting away. I rode home and quickly hid the bike in my garden.
I could not believe what had happened, or how I had survived in tacked. I went around to the scene of the crime to check things out and see if the local bill had been called. All clear except for the biker that I had raced with, who by now had brought his mate along. I could see by his hand movements that he was recreating the scene for his colleague.
That night I was to meet my big brother Sandy in the local pub, yes the one with the hedge that ate passers-by.
I went into the pub ready to tell my tale, I could not get a word in for my brother telling me that he had spoken to a mate who had told him about this mad biker, who like a scene in a stunt movie performed this amazing feat through the traffic and how an old so an so, had to jump clear into the hedge outside the pub. At that, he turned to me and said "what was it I wanted to say". "That was me, I'm that mad biker".
The only thing for it was to buy a more sensible bike, something that just might keep me on the right side of the law.
Honda CX500: Year Bought About 1987
It is fair to say that I knew very little about the motorcycle scene at this time because if I had I would never have gone near a CX500. It was so fashionable that it earned the name of 'Plastic Maggot' from the bike press. Thank god then I was too naive to know any better and now I am wise enough not to listen to bike journals, otherwise I would have missed out on some very good motorcycles.
I did my first long trip to Oyne the village were my brother Robert lived, my first long trip and not a clue what it's about.
This was really my first big motorcycle and thinking back it was not a bad way to start, a comfy machine with a good shaft drive that at the time made a mockery of the German counterpart. I can't remember how long I kept the bike 2 or 3 years but it did not have great fuel consumption. I also learned on this machine to always use genuine gasket sets, after trying to fit a cheap one and seeing the puff of steam at start up.
In the end as always in my life cash dictated that it had to go, I swapped it for a Kawasaki Z250 that had about 7000 miles on the clock, a 12 string guitar and some cash. Thinking back I did a stupid deal (Do we ever stop) and gave away a good bike.
Kawasaki Z250: Year Bought About 1989
This bike was won in a prize by a guy I worked beside; it was in very good condition and actually made a very good commuting bike. Somehow I sold it to my brother Sandy unused.
Sometime later I was working in a sweetie factory not earning much and trying to support a family. Money was scarce and my brother sold me back the Z250 for peanuts.
The bike was put back into daily commuting as we had no car at this time. I used it in all weathers and it did its job, I was even knocked off by a woman doing a U turn at a sign that said no U turns allowed. The bike was fitted with crash bars and the bike came away virtually unmarked and all that was damaged was my pride but still I got the afternoon of work. Eventually the bike had to go as finances dictated. Sold it for a pittance and once again found myself bike less.
It’s about this time I spotted the first bike that I really wanted; I was out walking the dog when I spotted what I can only describe as a big looking fat Silver Norton. After a while I decided I would have to get closer to the bike and find out what it was. A Yamaha XS1100, that was to be recorded in my mind, maybe one day.
I went into a bit of buy and sell routine at this time, the first bike was a Suzuki GSX 400T, this was a custom Job, I remember hiring a trailer and getting the kids in the car and heading up to Arbroath, I lived in Kirkcaldy and this was about 50'ish mile journey.
Went up a one way street the wrong way, tried to get it turned round, got into a mess, kids enjoying every moment of it, me getting out and turning the trailer by hand. Not a great start to my entrepreneurial career.
The bike was a nice wee bike and I bought it for under £500. On arrival home my now X was not too impressed as I was spending what we did not have.
The bike only needed a rev counter cable and a service and it was good to go. Around the same time I bought a Yamaha TS 50 of a mate in need of TLC, the bike not the mate.
We had a complaint about our dogs barking and a lady from the council came up to see us. She asked me if I had a motorbike, well I just about fell of my chair. We had only a small shed, this was where the GSX was residing, our flat was up one flight of stairs and if she went into our kitchen she would have tripped over a Suzuki TS 50 trial bike.
I had fitted the rev counter cable and revved the motorcycle a few times in our shed to test it and that was it. Still the nosey neighbours missed out on really dropping me in it. I made my first profit of about £250. From here on I bought several little bikes, a couple of Tomas mopeds, one I sold and one that is still sitting in my shed. Yamaha T80, great wee thing, shaft drive, 55MPH, 100MPG.
A Honda C70 I bought from an old couple, the man was a bee keeper and had a bee hive on the back, and as I was about to haggle the old man but his wife and himself kept feeding us lovely homemade scones and cakes. I was getting the bike for a good price and could not bring myself to haggle and the scones where an experience not to have missed.
There was also the little step-thru Suzuki, when I went back to pick it up his wife was going ballistic, shouting at him and bringing the man down to tears as he was obviously selling something he should not. Still after the scone incident I had hardened myself up, took the bike leaving the man in tears with his distraught other half before he could change his mind.
Then there was the ER 50 that looked like it would not run in a million years but to my surprise I got it started and sold it for twice what I paid.
I did not have much cash and this at least kept my hand in with bikes but I was never going to be rich. However before I knew it I was redundant. I did however get a cheque for £1600, which looking back was a pittance, I split it with my X who put her half into keeping us alive and my half went towards my next project.
Yamaha XS1100: Year Bought 1992
Walking the dog one night and spying that big fat Norton look alike, getting made redundant with cash to burn and a trip to Ayr to pick up my brothers new ZZR 1100, all lead me to be in a position to buy the hulk of metal sitting in the corner with the £900 price tag and the sold as seen sticker.
No mistaking its huge shape I knew what I was looking at, I could see way past the rust, duff paint and broken engine fins. My heart was pounding at the sight of the blue and white Yamaha XS1100.
First problem was I only had £800; I got my brother to use his new bike buying powers to knock the £100 of it. Deposit paid and it was mine. I heard the engine running and was on my way home buzzing with the excitement of owning my own big fat Norton look alike.
Away to Ayr we went, it was an 80'ish mile trip and when I got there the bike would not fit in the trailer. I went about stripping the front wheel off the bike. I managed to get the bike into the trailer and headed back home.
The trip back was incident free, which was worrying. I rode the bike around our back yard to assess it, and then into the garage it went for the strip down. I was stripping it down over the winter with the idea of getting it on the road for the following summer.
Now we were quite poor, I had no Job; I had already spent £800 that should have gone elsewhere. So it was always going to have to be cost effective restore. A lot was to happen in my life at this point, I don't know if it was getting the bike on the road against the odds or having the bike at a time when our life's where to change but it was a very special time for me.
To paint a picture of my life at that time and how tight money was I can remember coming down to the living room and finding my X in tears. I asked what was wrong and she told me that she we had no bread or milk and how was she going to feed us all.
Humiliation is too light a word to describe the emotions that I felt, or the guilt that soaked through me about spending money on a bike, but I knew that I had let my family down.
I went upstairs to a jar of pennies and emptied them into my pocket. I then went to my local supermarket counting how much I had and working out what I could buy. I came back with the bread and milk. The shame of handing over all those pennies in a busy checkout did not bother me, however the level I had sunken to did..
I swore I would never be in this position again. To cut a long story short it was a case of one school dropout goes to college then onto University, getting an Honours Degree and back into the world of regular income.
To support ourselves during this time I had a grant, worked in a supermarket and played in a band and my X worked all hours in a supermarket too.
We had to move house and the XS followed us in boxes. By the time we had moved I had stripped the bike, got the frame blasted and primed it in Forth Rail Bridge Brown Primer. We then coated the frame in half a dozen coats of Hammerite paint. The boxes where put into a cupboard in the house along with the engine.
Over the winter all the bits where painted and new handle bar switches, mudguard and various other bits and bobs where sourced new or from breakers.
We had no garage and an old cold shed. As the time approached for the rebuild my X told me I could build the rolling chassis in the house.
I had taken loads of photos and got them developed (the days before Digital) and written down and numbered everything that was stripped.
I repaired the engine fins using JB weld and left it for months to cure. The engine was then serviced, painted and ready by the time the bike was built. I wheeled it outside and gave my good mate Andy a call to lift the motor into the frame. The rest of the build carried on outside, weather permitting. In between times the bike was then wheeled into the shed.
All that was needed to complete the bike was a set of decals and petrol in the tank. Everything worked perfect, it was a perfect rebuild with no issues and a complete running bike that was looking great and the MOT booked.
That was a nervous lunchtime but also exhilarating ride. From a sold as seen bucket to a box of nothing's turned into 1100 cc's of Japanese art. It sailed through the MOT and so was to begin my longest ever ownership of a bike.
I had it four years, but as usual the point came where money was short and I sold it to my brother for the price I paid for it, the agreement was that one day I could buy it back. That day never happened as he nearly wrote himself off and the bike was junked.
This had been a great bike with great memories, special time in my live. Still think it looks like a big fat Norton though.
So time passes and being bike less is not an option for long, next followed a stream of bikes that basically I bought, I used, I sold. None where inspirational, some I did not give long enough to find out.
Sadly the end of the bike, my poor brother decided to park it under a 4 X 4 and that was that!!
Bionic Man
Ouch!!!!!
Kawasaki Zephyr 750 Year Bought about 1997
This one I bought from my brother, nice looking bike, again had a little bit of the Norton look about it. The problem with it is that was made of putty. The sight of rain would cause the foot pegs and any other alloy to melt in front of your eyes. Pity because as a bike it was useful but too hard to keep looking good.
Suzuki GS 850 - Year Bought about 1998
I had been out the game a while, went to see this bike after buying my mate a cracker a few years back. Bought it from a fireman, did not road test it, it had 'born to ride' mirrors on it, that should have warned me, but I am sure we have all been there. I had been out of the game for a while and dying to get another bike. I never road tested it (Don't Do It). Paid a deposit, paid too much for it, went back and got it and the ride home revealed the clutch slipping. It was a dog, sold it at a loss.
Kawasaki GPZ 900 Year Bought about 1998
Again a bike bought from my brother, this was in nice condition, did not really do a lot with it but it was my first Ninja, little did I know that I would sweep the board with Ninja's and try them all.
Without doubt this was the bike that changed the direction of motorcycles, water cooled and fully faired, it will always be seen as a milestone in the history of the motorcycle. Personally I always found it a bit on the bulky side. Now of course it is hard to imagine how it turned heads but it did.
This has been a good bike that I probably never really appreciated. It was about this time my attention was switching to Scooters and as my brother says it was my dark period.
Kawasaki Z 650 Year Bought about 1998
Everybody raves about the Z900 and Z1 but I reckon this little beauty beat them both. It inherited the good looks but also offered exceptional handling for its time. With the right exhaust it was heaven on two wheels. I liked it a lot and it is one of the few bikes I wish I had kept and restored. But again was to fall victim to my dark period.
Dark Period
What is this Dark Period I hear you say, was it drinking, was it gambling, was it drugs, was it womanising, or had I joined some Dark cult exposing my nipples to the moonlight. No it was none of the above it was the time I switched to scooters.
You have to understand that I liked scooters and I still do. Sitting on my brothers Lambretta as a School boy or watching the old next door neighbour ride his, they stuck in my head.
I liked their noise, their cute centre stand and their well contoured bodies. They are very useful pieces of transport and kept many a motorcycle dealer alive throughout the dry period of motorcycle sales. They can look good, cheap to run, good mpg, great in the city. I better stop I can feel the force is still strong in this once believer.
Vespa TS 125 Year Bought 1999
I bought my first brand new vehicle; it was a Vespa T5 Millennium Limited Edition. You see the reasoning was simple, I liked them, my brother had been seriously hurt in a Motorcycle (My XS1100), I feared for my own mortality if I kept riding.
It made sense, however my brother’s facial expression as he lay in his hospital bed said it all. He either thought he was dreaming or he had awoken in my nightmare. He was forced to ride scooters in the 60's because my other brother Robert had caused so much hassle on motorcycles. My dad told him scooter or nothing. Nothing sounded better but scooter it was and he thought they were more dangerous in the winter than any bike.
I did about 1200 miles on the wee thing, can't say I disliked it but it made me think about riding a bigger version, so I bought my next mistake.
Suzuki Burgman 400 Year Bought 2000
So to my second new vehicle, a bigger scooter, it all seemed perfect, traded in a perfectly good GPZ 900 for a pittance and bought this nice new shiny big scooter.
I remember picking it up the first day and thinking how well I had done to get rid of those evil bikes and get onto something that was comfy and safe. I remember taking a day of work and riding to South Queensferry and parking below that great sculpture of engineering, the Forth Rail Bridge. I was a feet forward convert, maybe I would still be if it had not been the biggest pile of crap I had ever owned.
Don't get me wrong the idea was brilliant, comfort, weather protection, two up comfort, storage space, easy to clean and good MPG.
So where did it go wrong. Ok, the first problem was that sometimes it just would not start and when it did it would cough and splutter like some aging smoker. Then there was the elastic band acceleration. Twist and Go was more like 'Twist and Wait, Wait, Wait, Oh my god I am not going to make it'. I got to the stage where I was overtaking like I was driving a car.
Then there was the handling, sometimes it seemed fine for what it was, but occasionally it would act like it had been possessed by an Oil Tanker, you would find yourself drifting over to the opposite road, like someone was controlling you by remote control.
The final straw was the rear wheel bearing packed in, it was only 6 months old and less than 2000 miles. By now I was no longer a biker, I used to be proud of my ability to corner fast, Overtake at will. Everything that I had built up and declared the reasoning for riding two wheels had been destroyed by this two wheeled nightmare.
I told my dealer hoping they could help and give me a decent trade in, nope forget it, we want your money not our junk back was more or less what I got. I wrote to Suzuki declaring my disgust, would have been better joining the Cult and going for the full moon nipple show.
So took it to some other dealer and traded it in for a used Suzuki Bandit 600 (I know what you think, after all that why another Suzuki, well because it was a bike this time).
I don't mean to put this big scooter down, we all get hit with the bad bike\scooter, and this was mine. I am sure there are others out there who will paint a completely different picture. So if you are thinking about buying one there have been plenty sold, so don't let me put you of. It was my experience only.
Suzuki Bandit 600 Year Bought 2000
If I was to hate Suzuki after the Burgman then I would have missed out on some great bikes. I traded the big scooter in and paid £300 pound for the privilege of changing back to a bike.
I bought the bike because I liked what I saw. It was not new but had only done 8000 miles. It was in very good condition. It was a Sunday and went home that afternoon and got the big scooter and drove it back to the showroom as my deposit.
The following Saturday I picked the bike up. Now you will remember my tale of overtaking fear with the big scoot, well the only way I can described my new found acceleration is to say it was like being without food for months and finding a Mars bar, I just could not get enough. My brother who was on his ZZR 1100 asked if I was ok as he thought I had lost it. The new acceleration had gone to my head, the biker was back.
The best way to describe this bike is that it is the bargain of the century, maybe not main stream anymore but more than capable of letting you ride to your limit. Unfortunately that was its only problem, after 6 months I needed more.
But like the Kawasaki Z650 it is one of the most underrated bikes going and like the GPZ 900 changed the direction of bikes for the better. Highly recommended but in the end was not enough and I traded it in for my next steed and my second Ninja a Kawasaki ZX9R.
Kawasaki ZX9R Year Bought Feb 2002
It’s funny but I never planned the Ninja Invasion, looking at the bikes I have owned you would assume that I am a great Kwaka man, but none of it was planned it just happened.
I went to a showroom in Edinburgh to look at a couple of ZZR 1100's, when I came across this bike, Low mileage, B4 Model. The sale's staff informed me I was too young to buy and old man’s bike (ZZR) and this was more suited to me. It did appeal to me more as I like my handling, so the trade in went ahead and I drove it of that afternoon.
The first thing that hit me was the cramped leg position; I was worried I would seize up and fall over. The front brake was also very poor. Now I know what you are thinking, the dealer sold me what he wanted and left me with a duff bike.
But to the dealers credit he took the bike back in and stripped and sorted the bike FOC. This was to be the start of 16 months of ownership.
I bought the bike in February, not a very good time of year in Scotland. It was a new bike and I was keen to go adventuring, appropriate word in the Highlands at that time of year. I had an idea of going up north for a long weekend. Well we set of enduring the winds and cold and rain all the way from Kirkcaldy to Braemar.
I remember us stopping at a cafe, soaked to the bone, hogging the cafe heater like our life's depended on it. After warming up and drying out we made the way to our destination in Dinnet.
What followed was a lovely weekend in a beautiful part of Scotland, the rain disappeared and for the next two days we had sunshine as we trekked between the different villages.
The bike behaved like a new toy should. I remember going into a book shop in Ballater and coming across a whole collection of bike magazines from the 40's. I was going to buy one, but it dawned on me that these probably belonged to someone like me, someone's entire collection that they probably poured hours over, deciding on the bike they would buy, or what they dreamed they could have.
Now that person is most probably dead was my thought, and for the first time I thought about my own mortality. A very strange moment that has stuck with me, I could not buy the single magazine as I could not bring myself to split the collection.
The trip back was much like the trip there, cold and wet and bloody freezing, I got stopped by the police and warned to slow down but we must have looked so miserable that they waved us on our way.
It was a good trip and the start of something new, touring this great country that I love so much.
The next trip was to a little village called Plockton (Hamish Macbeth country). We had watched it in the show and thought it would be a nice place to stay. This time it was a beautiful summer’s day, we made our way up the A9 and stopped off at a petrol station in Dalwhinnie, for some fuel and I bite to eat.
This was more like it, dry summer weather, nice cup of tea and some sandwiches. We headed of for Plockton; we arrived there but were unable to get a place to stay as a couple of wedding party's where in the village. We had our look around, I had to ride the bike between these highland cows with huge horns and I have to say it was scary. A couple of weeks later some one was hurt by one of them. It’s a beautiful place and well worth a visit and if you are a biker these roads are heaven.
We decided to keep going and head across to Skye, the Skye Bridge is one scary bridge to cross on a bike, would not recommend it in a strong wind. We headed into the Island and eventually stopped off in Broadford. By this time it was getting nearer 7 PM so we basically looked for the first available stopping point. We got a nice bed & breakfast owned by a Dutch couple.
The next day we woke up feeling a bit sore but ready for the next trip. We decide to head towards Loch Ness. This has to be one of the best biking roads around. Sustained high speed riding was on order as it was a Sunday morning and not a sole in sight. It was one of those rides you don't forget.
By the time we got to Loch Ness we were beginning to ache, this was only after about 70 miles riding.
We had planned to stop of in Loch Ness but it was just too busy and hectic with it being bang in the middle of the tourist season, that and the rip off prices aimed at the tourists prompted us to move on.
However getting to the end of our tether and when Inverness came into view we headed for the first bed and breakfast we could find.
The next day we felt very much revived and made the trip back home, we stopped off at Loch Ness ready to take our picture of Nessie but you would not be surprised by the outcome. The only eventful thing that came up that morning was my breakfast behind a bush. We stopped off at another few places on the way home. As always home is a welcomed sight but it had been a great two days and the bike did its job more than well.
Ok that idea I had on the last trip, well my ambition since being very young was to own a Honda Goldwing, and I got to thinking that I might look for an older one as a second bike for us to tour on.
I began the search but trying to get a decent old wing for the budget I had was proving to be impossible, but on my search I found this older VN1500 for sale, I did not jump to it but it was there in the back of my mind. After a few months I had given up hope of finding the wing so I decided to make an offer on the VN and to my surprise the owner accepted it. So I arranged to see it before I was going to part with the cash.
So what about the ZX9R, well it is a great bike but of course I did eventually trade it in, But it was a great machine, more performance than most of us could handle and with the right exhaust note was one of the best sounding bikes I have ever owned.
Comfort was not bad for a sports bike and not much went wrong with it, it needed a front wheel bearing and that alarm left me stranded but other than that I would recommend one to anyone.
Forget the Bike magazines they hate it because it is not a track bike, so what, how many people really do track days to that level. As an everyday good all round bike it’s a bargain and there are a lot out there to snap up. Some of the alloys are typical Kawasaki of that era and can go off a bit but other than that decent machine.
It did manage one more trip before I sold it, a trip to Durham where I traded it in for the next bike after the VN, the GL1500.
Kawasaki VN1500 SE Bought 2003
The viewing of the bike went well, the bike was very impressive, dressed in lots of extras and as clean as could be expected for its age. So I agreed to come back and buy it when I could try it out in the daylight. So I came back with the cash and took it for a road test. My Ex was already sold on it, when I returned I noticed an oil leak from the top of the engine around the cam cover. It looked like no big deal so I decided to go for it.
If ever a bike has been a head turner or made me feel like I was in an episode of CHIPS then this was the bike. It’s hard to describe riding something like this but it is a totally different riding experience.
There are just bucket loads of torque that make you realise that you have one serious engine beneath your bottom.
We decided to take it for a trip the following weekend down south to visit one of my Ex's friends in Blyth. The bike came with a set of throw over panniers, so we loaded them and of we went for a day trip to Blyth. It was 270 mile round trip.
Sixty Nine miles into the trip and the bike began to splutter, I knew the feeling right away, but could not bring myself to believe that it was running out of fuel. Fingers fumbling I found the reserve lever and flipped it over, within seconds the bike resumes normal operation. This was bad with over 200 miles to do.
Fuel range was going to be a serious issue. I had no idea how long reserve might last but fortunately I didn't have to find out as we came across a filling station.
The oil leak was heavier than I thought as my boot was soaked with oil, as was the bike. Oil spreads like nothing else, what looked like the entire contents of the sump, proved to be 200 to 300 mls. Not a great start to the ownership, but worst was to come.
We made our destination and I decide to do two things. First was to buy a petrol can to fit in one of the panniers to give me more range, not the safest thing to do. The second thing was to look at this oil leak and see if I could find out where it was coming from.
The bad news for me is I did this when we had arrived and of course the exhausts were still very hot. I was so busy trying to locate the leak and from the corner of my eye as I thought I had grabbed the engine guard rail, but yes you will have guessed it, instead of that I had grabbed a roasting exhaust. The worst thing is I really gripped it and needless to say I left a good bit of my skin behind. It was quite a serious burn and on part of my hand I would have to use.
We made the trip back with my hand killing me and my first adventure on the bike was full of incident but all for the wrongs reasons. However putting things into the context, the oil leak was no big problem and I carried out the repair.
The petrol tank is tiny and you only have about 2 gallons in the main tank. You can fit a later tank give you more range. Burning my hand was my on stupidity but be warned the exhausts are quite dangerously placed.
It was a great bike but somehow I still could not get the Goldwing out my head and so after 9 months I advertised the bike, not really expecting to sell it, but I did.
Honda Goldwing GL1500SE
I started writing up ‘me and my bikes’, a full charge into the past, digging up the memories of how it all started. That was about 4 or 5 years ago. Then I stopped.
A lot has been bought and ridden since then, in fact a ridiculous amount of squandered money and indecision.
However I found my original notes and rehashed them as my circumstances were very different now. But here I sit looking to continue the story and now I know why I stopped, the Goldwing.
It is a bit like childhood or watching your own kids come home bumming up their latest greatest best friend. You know what I mean, friend said this, friend does that, friend said I should, friends dad is cool.
Bladdy bladdy bla and then one day you ask about the friend and they look at you like you have crawled out the sewer and in that exorcist voice their head swivels and mouths start foaming and snapping jaws squawk that it’s not their friend anymore and that they hope they burn in the flames of internal hell.
Well after getting rid of two bikes, the VN1500 and the ZX9R and a pot load of cash, I brought my new friend home, a friend I had longed for since childhood.
Ever since I saw my first GL1000, it registered that this was the biggest and greatest bike on the planet and that one day I would own a Goldwing.
This was a 10 year old GL1500 with only 10,000 miles on the clock, immaculate and fully kitted. I drove the Goldwing, yes I said drove the bike up from Durham, I just did not realise it at the time.
The bike was minted but I paid way over the odds for it but it did not matter it was my best friend and it was all mine.
Two years and 1200 miles later I sold it, cold that I drove it and I never felt I had ridden it. I spent 6 hours changing a rear tyre, every other week charging the battery.
The Starship Enterprise came crashing down, the dream was over, the acres of plastic, the car dash, the tan interior, the gladiator bulk required to keep it upright, the complexity of the electrics and electronics, also the fact that changing the rear tyre meant sailing it into dry dock.
I just did not drive it anymore; I had become lifeless, soulless, and anti-wingish. Ironically I sold it and put the money towards another car, this time with four wheels.
I know. People love them and to be fair I think all the wings before the GL1500 were more in the bikeland and I also can see that although the GL1800 is a Starship on Steroids with a price to scare off all but the wealthy, that it also is a better prospect for someone who like riding rather than driving.
Like I said before in my blog, sometimes you should never meet your hero's.
Suzuki Bandit 1200 (2005)
A special motorcycle, in fact at the time a great buy, it was my first new motorcycle my only previous new vehicles being scooters.
God if I had kept it would have been paid off 2 years ago; I put a good deposit on it too. It still would have been in great nick and reasonable mileage, a bike that could last forever with the right care.
I think a fine looking machine, I test drove the faired version but decided the fairing would rattle too much and I did not like how the clocks were placed. So I decided on the limited edition naked bike.
It had a real retro look to it. It had been a bike that the press had loved but by this time had discarded to the old hat dustbin.
However it was and still is a fantastic bike, an amazing amount of motorcycle at an amazing price, it has grown into a 1250 now and there is even a touring version that can put the cost off all other tourers to shame.
For me a new green mean ZX10R sports bike, a race bike really, my first proper track\road bike tempted me away from what was a brilliant bike that I did not give myself time to truly appreciate. I did about 2000 miles with no complaints.
Highly recommended *****
Kawasaki ZX10R 2006
Take that sock and stick it down your pants, Wear platforms shoes and gain a few inches, Dye your greying hair, put on a corset and suck your tummy in or just buy a state of the art sports bike and get it over with and be prepared to meet your maker. Its green mean and a perfect kamikaze killing machine
OK a bit over the top but accurate and this is the milder 2006 model.
It felt good initially, my first proper mad sports bike, initially the racing crouch felt horny, the sound was evil in stereo, the colour would shock my dear old Irish mother. After all those years on cheaper 2nd hand bikes, never quite having something to brag about, here it was, my medal of Honour, no one could doubt me now.
Truth be told it was so uncomfortable and it scared me sh**less, the handlebars numbed my hands to the point of serious white finger syndrome. It kept cutting out and hanging over the front wheel completely screwed up my cornering confidence. If you hammered it began to make sense but it was all or nothing.
I can't explain it, I am not really scared easy on a bike and I feel I can ride fairly well. But the deep down feeling was that to conquer this machine would take me to the edge of insanity and quite possibly into an early grave.
What was I thinking?
It was a gorgeous bike, slight nimble, nice lines, I liked the wheel barrow exhausts, its lime green was screaming Kawasaki and that's what the engine did to. Nicely put together.
I had to sit down and admit it just was not me, I had deluded myself into thinking this was a bike I could ride on the road, the reality sank in that it was beyond my needs or my skill set, I just had to get rid of it like a loaded shotgun, it scared me what it could potentially do.
As a track bike that would be a different prospect but a waste of a new bike and so it was so long my Mean Green friend we just should never have gotten married.
Kawasaki VN1600 (2007)
My near death experience in the hands of the green meanie made me want the comfort of my favourite cuddly toy; I was running scared and needed a hug, as I spun out of my middle age crisis, I required a soft landing.
I decided that I was more a cruiser kind of guy, I liked my first Vulcan and a new one would be much better. A screen, backrest and crash bar. I could see it all, long haired, done it all kind of biker, middle finger up to the speed brigade, I could resign my commission as a diehard nutter forever. Quit while I was ahead.
You see we bikers spend most of our time with the biking gremlins planted firmly on our weak shoulders. It's like this!
God of biking alter ego (Lets call him Gus); sits on the left shoulder, he is what you think you are, fast, furious and brave. He could take on the best, if he had been given the breaks he could have tamed the mountain course and shown those wet faced GP boys a trick or two.
Timorous Bashful Mite alter ego (Lets call him Tim); Sits on the right, he is closer to what you might really be but you would never admit it. He knows he is not the best by a mile; he is not frightened but is more aware of his limits and his own mortality.
Gus is what we want to be and Tim is more the way our mothers would have hoped we had turned out and so with this you spend your biking life being tormented by Gus and supported by Tim.
Gus - "What do you want a glorified handbag for, you'll be the laughing stock and it won't be long until you are running back and begging me to come back"
Tim - "Don't listen to him, think about your future, you want one don't you, why else are you running to me, go for it, you'll suit long hair"
So I dumped Gus and befriended Tim; I complimented it with a ZZR1100 just to appease Gus.
I picked it up from the dealers, my brother took me up to get it, I rode away and instantly felt at home, the stretch of twisting roads from Perth to Grief allowed me to show how good it could handle. I felt relaxed and very glad to be riding away from the ZX10R.
Eventually I rode my Vulcan into the sunset, I got fit, lost weight, moved away from my home town on my own and Tim was right I suited long hair.
The bike was really very nice, I got to the stage where I could really ride the socks of it, and even on twisty roads I could really gun it.
I remember one occasion keeping up with sportsbikes, who must have thought who the hell was hanging on their tails over the fine Highlands roads. Some deranged middle aged hippie who listened to an invisible friend called Tim but rode like Gus on a big giant handbag.
Even my brother had a hard time on the back roads getting anywhere near me on his ZZR1100.
I took the bike on a Vintage rally in the pouring rain, seemed to suit it as it blended in with all the machines of old. I rode it to Inverness. It was quite simple a grand machine but after 3000 miles the Gus in me was slowly returning as I eyed up maybe the mother of all hyperbikes.
