Past Loves....any Bikes You've Loved And Lost And Wish You Still Had..

The trouble is your Ducati was the SP, it was a road legal race bike, made perfect sense when properly 'on it' but when trying to poodle through town or keep under the speed limit anywhere it became painful to ride. My RSV-R Factory was similarly painful at sedate pace when compared to my original RSVR,
V twins are an acquired taste, you have to ride in a different way to an inline 4 (or even 3), I have had a few & would describe myself as a V twin style rider, I love the way they deliver power & the engine braking, I find on the track I hold more corner speed than when I ride an IL4.

When I changed from a Aprilia RSV-R Factory to a GSX-R 1000K5 it took 3 months for me to get my head round how to ride it, you keep the later upright longer then brake like feck, get it turned then let it get up on the fat part of the tyre before giving it the beans, so different to the big sweeping lines I was used to on the V2.

I think you are right in that had you chosen a slightly less focused V2, you would have been happier, when down in the Alps a mate swapped from his 2004 R1 & had a go on my Superduke 990 & another mates Tuono Gen 2 for a couple of hours, he loved them both, when riding his R1 I found it harder round the roads we were on, tight hairpins, 2 gears then another hairpin, seemed to just come on power when I was braking again.

 

Loved this until i was a twonk in france and didnt look where i was going
before

after

Written well and truly off

 

Had to come back and carry on the holiday on this which I should never have sold

 

This.....

And this...

And this..

 

Well, this one goes way back before many of you were even born.

Here's my 1963 BSA Rocket Gold Star, the first bike I owned after passing my test (on a Royal Enfield Continental GT).

It had loads of race-developed bits on it and was actually built by Eddie Dow. It had an Eddie Dow front brake and double damped forks, flowed head, end-fed balanced crank and of course the famous RRT2 close ratio gearbox (60mph in first gear!). I fitted the alloy tank. To start it, you had to retard the ignition with a lever on the bars. If you didn't, it could throw you over the bars when you tried to kick-start it.

Rode that to college every day pretending to do my A-levels, then to work all through the hot summer of '76. Even went to Mallory Park on it to watch the Transatlantic Match Race series and other great races. Seeing Barry Sheene arriving at the track in a Rolls Royce was quite cool.

Stupidly, I part exchanged it for a Honda CB 500/4 after I got a job as a motorcycle courier. The BSA's high first gear wasn't great in London traffic, neither were the clip-ons and rear-sets! Should have kept it and bought an old clunker for work. You live and learn.

 

I buy FAR too many motorcycles, and there have been a number I wish I’d kept. Some were dumped due to problems, many just me being fickle/stupid.
Here are a few I wish I’d kept. I suspect my garage isn’t big enough to hold my list!
1995 Trident. My first Triumph.
2008 XR1200. Part of first run of 750. Unfortunately it had expanding tank problems.
2018 HD FatBob. Sold in a snit after oil sumping problems. Still, should have kept it.
2000 Thunderbird Sport.
2011 Victory Kingpin. I hate that Victory was shutdown.
1999 Legend. Actually my wife’s bike. Should have kept it just because it was our last old T300 bike. It was showing its age but still a cool old bike.

Probably others, but those are the ones that popped up in my alleged memory.

 

Did you do the work on these must be many hours in there

 

.........my ‘75 CB400F . I had the most fun on that bike .

 

READ ALL ABOUT IT: THE THICKEST DUMB-ARSE IN HISTORY


This isn’t about the bike I regret selling.

It’s about the bike I missed... TWICE.

Same bike. Not same make, not same model, SAME BIKE.

Ladies and gentlemen, charge your glasses and drink to the thickest dumb-arse in creation.

I give you…

(Applause, of a sort…)

Y-o-u-u-r-s T-r-u-u-l-y.


Johannesburg, South Africa, 1980s (sound of sirens and gunfire).


Your resident dumb-arse rolls a spliff and settles down to hallucinate and fantasise.


Not about chicks with bombshell tits and lacy knickers, though.


The subject of this fantasy is something even sexier.

This.



I’ve been drooling over this Moto Guzzi 850 Le mans 3. The lines, the sound, the clocks dominated by the oversized tacho.



This thing is scorching hot sex, without the dreaded wet spot.

Alas, it doesn’t happen. I wind up on a BMW.


Quite a few years pass.

I get that itch. The gotta-buy-a-bike-or-I’ll-bust itch.


There are 20-valve Yamahas and aluminium-framed Suzukis (“aloominum”, if you’re Amurcan); lime-green Kawasakis and V-four Hondas to choose from.

But I can't get that Guzzi out of my head.


That Guzzi, with its pushrod engine, its wafer-thin tyres and its heart-racing feel.



I briefly co-owned a Mk 2 with a then-family-member; we each had a half share.



When it ran, which was now and then, it was most enjoyable. Steering geometry straight out of a battleship. Uncomfortable. Unpredictable. Quirky. Everything I love in a bike.

I learnt why Guzzi owners brag about the speeds they can do. Guzzi speedos may not be quite truthful, but they do wonderful things for the ego!

Sell the 850 Le Mans 2. Seek an 850 Le Mans 3.

This sets the stage for my dumb-arsed supernova to flare up into its full brilliance.





At the time, believe it or not, I own a motorcycle accessories boutique. Not that I’m a spanner; I’m the suit in the office, making spreadsheets of what helmets and tyres and gloves to order.

All this being pre Internet, I buy a copy of a classified ad compilation.

There’s an 850 Le Mans 3 for what would then have been about 2 000 quid in your money.

Good ones started at twice that.

And it’s in Pretoria, a city 60 km/35 mi from my native Johannesburg.

At that price it’s got to be a wreck. I’m not schlepping 60 kilometres to see a piece of junk.



Weeks pass.

I go into the storeroom.

The tyre bay is right next to the storeroom.

There’s an 850 Le Mans 3 in the tyre bay, getting Michelins fitted.

I pause to admire it.

The owner saunters over and enlightens, “Picked it up in Junk Mail for £2 000”.

I go into my office and reflect on this development.




Returning to the tyre bay I give the owner my card, in case he wants to sell.

Weeks later, my phone rings.

“Wanna buy my bike?”

And the timing is perfect.

Perfectly wrong, that is, coz I’ve just ordered a @#8{}!! tanker load of leather jackets and boots and vrs other stuffs for the Xmas season, and I haven’t a bean left to buy luxuries like food or bikes. In addition to this I have an aversion to credit, and besides, I prob’ly wouldn’t qualify anyway.

So once again, I miss out. Can’t buy the bike. F-a-a-r-k.

So my mate buys it for his collection.

All these years later he’s still got it.

The met office records a deafening roar of thunder over Johannesburg that day, and yet we were under perfectly clear South African summer skies.

Fact is, the thunder is The Man Upstairs, canning Himself with laughter as He watches me squirm.



Wait till I get my claws on Him...

 

I miss every single one of them. (Apart from the SV thou which had a very fit engine but a chassis reconfigured for a midget straight liner)
The missus would love the BROS (that’s a Hawk, cousins) and I really miss having a stink wheel. I have seen our local bike haunt (Carbeth Inn, RIP) descend into silence at the sound of an approaching paraffin wee-wee machine.
A mint KDX200 or CRM250 is on the want list.

 

The day i got it

 

What i did , good memories

 

In 1975 good fishy year dad said get yourselves something bro got a Rolex ( poser to the last) I bought the Ducati 900 pr version ( mag wheels 40 delorto carbs truncated seat only thing was I bought it in North Shields from KAM bike’s his workshop was a stinky cat infested garage so I had to take it to Carnells in Donnie. Now I see they are very collectible but hey like a Rolex that meant nothing to me at that time ( still doesn’t) second best Vellocette Venom good bike after looking back on the Brit rubbish I had bought.

 

2006 Victory Vegas. Fast, sleek, sexy...everything I'm not.

100 CID, six speed, stage1 kit and gray is my favorite color (a nod to the Counting Crows).

I walked into the dealership and they were just putting it up on a platform in the front window - don't bother. I want it.

I was doing some long-hauling at the time. I had bags and a windscreen for the trips, but after three years and 18k, I gave up trying to make it work. I needed something bigger, with more storage, and more comfort, but she was a head turner!

 

That's a good looking motorcycle.

 

This one - sadly not mine but identical. Sold after too brief a dalliance for an FZR600 which was (in my own tiny brain) more suited to a daily 50 mile commute. I paid £3,500 for it. Almost fell out with a very dear friend about it (she didn't want me to buy it - turns out she'd sold one a month before to a lad who killed himself on it a week later, I never knew until a month or so back). On Ebay now they're going vertical of £6k
When I retire i'll find the money somehow & buy one again, just to look at - and smell (Castrol R anyone....... like Bisto for bikers)
#fridaynostalgia

 

I bought this back in the 90's, so it was already 20 years old by then and the myth and legend of rocket ship acceleration were easily put to bed by anyone on (for example) a CBR600, but I suppose it was quick back in mid 70's. It was fun to ride though and of course they command a very high price tag now. The handling actually wasn't that bad, but then if you look closely, that particular bike was equipped with Koni rear shocks which kept the rear end fairly stable. The fuel consumption was horrendous circa 20 mpg iirc

 

Little story about Castrol R
In my teens I had a Suzuki Hustler T250R and a mate who had a can of Castrol R. I used to spend quite a few evenings at his house as his Mum (lovely woman) used to keep us well supplied with tea and sandwiches. Anyway, when I left late at night he used to pour a bit of Castrol R into my fuel tank. I would start the bike and let it idle for a few minutes to warm. Then I would slowly ride about a quarter mile down the road, stop and turn round. Then blip the throttle a few times, then set off at full tilt. By the time I reached my mate and his brother I'd be doing 60 or so and leaving a thick plume of smoke. Next time I saw him he would always wax lyrical about the aroma of Castrol R.
Personally I think it beats griddled steak.

 

KTM 950SM was my best bike ever. Had it for 8 years but it suffered from ethanol issues with the carbs and pipework due to less use than I should have given it.