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Miss Adventure
In which Ms A junior collects her first motorcycling war story…
How time flies. Ms A junior seems to have graduated from barely reaching the pegs on the pillion seat to taking over the front seat in the blink of an eye. I swear it was only last week that we were belting up through the Snowy Mountains together on Shaun the faithful ST1100 (RIP). At that stage she was about a metre tall and had just done a few laps of a paddock on her 50cc minibike.
Back in the here and now…a year into her road riding career she happily tossed the keys to the long-suffering 1980 CB250 in my direction and snatched the Janettemobile – the even longer-suffering 1979 BMW R65.
Now the R65, for the newcomer, is not the easiest thing to fling around on first meeting. While a lovely toy to ride once you get your head around its quirks, it’s nowhere near as responsive as modern kit and takes some learning to get the best out of it.
Like all older Bimms, there’s a fair bit of torque reaction from the powerplant, the gearshift has a long throw that requires a patient and firm left hoof, while the brakes require a bit of determination to get the best out of them.
This example, once owned and modified by Gyro of Ecco Engineering (a famous name in superbike circles in past decades), is a bit more lively than stock and, fortunately, handles quite acceptably.
Young Miss is just delighted to be on something (finally!) that has enough power to keep up with the traffic, without having to wring its neck. Not that this has been enough to curb bigger ambitions – every now and then she corners me in the shed, stabs one finger in my chest and another at Hannibal the Hayabusa, declaring, “You have to learn to share!”
My reply of, “Dream on, toots,” is not winning any friends…
We went for a first ride together and established she was comfortable enough to take the Bimm out on her own. Hell, she’s got a plane licence, so how hard can an R65 be? Not at all – until some clown tries a new addition to his act.
Like the elderly gentleman, waiting at an intersection in his Commodore. Ms A was just behind and was flabbergasted to see the old boy fling the Commode into reverse and drive – literally – up her front wheel. Now there’s something they don’t warn you about at riding school.
Ms A managed to put the bike on its stand, suggested the old boy park elsewhere, and surveyed her freshly smashed front mudguard. Far from being scared, she was bloody furious.
Is there something in the motorcycling gene that makes us throw our gloves on the ground when we’re having a tantrum? GP riders do it, I’ve done it, and you probably have too. Where does that come from? Anyway, Ms A did the ritual glove toss and gave the old buffoon an earful. Until her boyfriend (who had by now arrived on the scene and knew the old bloke) suggested she’d better stop yelling at him as he had a heart condition and it was best that this was not continued in hospital – or worse…
Surprisingly the damage to the bike is minimal – just a busted guard – and we’ll all live to fight another day. In the meantime, Ms A’s got a nice war story to share at the next Lemmings MC (motto: death before courtesy) lunch.
You’re always welcome to get in touch via the palatial Motorcycle Trader offices at locked bag 12, Oakleigh 3166; Or on the wire at guy.allen@traderclassifieds.com.au.
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