Blame the
Hawaiins
Sometimes extremes
bring out the worst and the best in you. One day I was out buying electric fans
for Chez Guido because it was hot. Damn hot, forty-two friggin degrees. And
the next it was 25 and raining. Wet, damn wet.
Meteorlogical lunacy like that brings out the Hawaiin shirt in all of us. Or
at least that's my excuse.
A couple of things happened, and you'll have to bear with me on this. First,
I got my sidecar back from Dr Gange. It's now a weird-looking silver thing with
truck horns, CD-player, and a depth of thought and design to die for. No, really.
Gange has had the outfit for a year, which isn't bad for a brief, back in October
1997, that said "give it a quick paint job – the use of a broom as
a paintbrush is fine". Twelve fuggin months later it has been re-upholstered,
re-wired, re-glassed in many places, repainted to a stunning standard and, well,
it would take hours to explain.
There is a Valiant throttle cable working the boot lid, a Mack truck clock,
an Austin 1800 lock, a VN Commodore battery, some unobtanium aircraft bolts
holding the seatbelts, a four-speaker stereo with custom-built sound towers
at the rear, some removable upholstery that deserves an ergonomics award of
some sort, and electric wiring that is inspired and protected by its own bash-plate.
Then there's solid engineering for the third wheel...
Inevitably, after leaving a bike standing for a year, there were a few bugs
to sort out. But the problems I faced in getting it running smoothly seemed
pipsqueak compared to Gange's efforts.
Getting into sidecar technology at this end is weird science and I wouldn't
recommend it unless your patience is long and your wallet is relatively deep.
The end product is good, but suffering the expense of having hand-made engine,
pipes, wheels, front suspension, wiring and cosmetics (with a project that is
by no means finished) is a long term commitment.
Then again, a three-wheeler with a very healthy powerplant, lowered chassis,
lots of grip and an aggressive level of negative camber has to be thrown around
to be appreciated. All-wheel, opposite-lock, drifts and some aviation of the
passengers are things you won't find at every set of handlebars.
Which brings me back to the hibiscus theme. We had the first of two days (and
not the last) of 40-degree-plus weather locally and I was looking for a cool,
cotton, open, shirt. What I found was a Hawaiin job, subtle for its kind, with
a bold hibiscus motif. For those wondering what the hell I'm on about, the hibiscus
is a tropical flower with monster petals and a bold male thingy in the middle
– Queenslanders will understand.
I initially got the sidecar to carry daughter number one to bike events and,
years later on the second of the forty-plus days, it was a joy to chauffer both
the gals around town in the newly-finished outfit. Sir's ensemble comprised
of slacks, Nikes, hibiscus shirt, gloves and open-face lid. The girls were strapped
in with seatbelts and were wearing whatever you do on such days (not much, apparently).
No helmets, which is legal in a chair at this end of the world, and safe in
this case.
We were cruising. Down to St Kilda beach, to see Danny and Megan of Cafe Racer
for a killer coffee and a stroll down the beach. D&M came for a spin in
the chair, literally. Then it was up to Carlton for an ice-cream in Lygon Street,
and a long stretch of window shopping while we gave the frozen cow juice a work-out.
If it sounds over-relaxed and homey so far, it's meant to. I usually go for
rides on solos, with or without daughters. But that particular afternoon, with
the chair, the heat, the gals, the subtle Hawaiin shirt (spot the oxymoron),
was relaxing. Going anywhere with the girls usually isn't, and there's mostly
some handlebar-brain connection on solos that makes the whole adventure pleasurable
and tense.
This wasn't and I blame it on the shirt. Now there's a thought – a set
of Hawaiin leathers...
Guy "Guido" Allen
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