Chewton
Café Lunch
Ride:
This was my second ride with the Motorcycle ‘Go Along New Roads’
Association of
Since then I have been threatened enough to welcome good riders
and corner bad ones later in the café. I
had an absolute ball the first ride out on the Economy Ride. I thought it was
going to have to have some reasonably slow sections to it. But as it turned out, not that many of us
care about considering economy when the weather is good. I went slowly and cautiously and conserved my
energy so much that by lunch time I was stuffed but still had a lot more riding
to do.
My
second ride with the group. This is a
self obsessed tale as I usually have no idea what anyone else is doing.
Who:
1.
Dave Ward Ducati 620ie who went to work.
2.
Kate Stewart - rear rider
till lunch, yellow F4I
3.
Pete Pondeljak
on matching yellow F4I, , Pete's 1st Club ride.
4.
Rob Langer, leading, BMW R1150GS. Small
guy, big bike, scoots upright at speed.
Probably fools police.
5.
Greg Hales, tricolour Fireblade, currently on
a high protein diet, but watches too many videos.
6.
Martin Hastie (blue CBR1100XX) Blackbird
7.
Aaron Karmiste
(maroon Blackbird), first ride back- something about moo poo
and falling off.
8.
Mario Ibeas
– R6 – the new tricolour Yamaha.
9.
Ron Johnston, CB400
(waiting to fix his Bandit 1200 with coloured forks,
rims and various.)
10.
Daniel Kosinski with Jenny Burns on back – bike started day off
with slow leak in rear tyre from the Hill Climb the
week before.
11.
Jenny rode her
12.
Wayne and Joanne Nimmo on gold/rusty Hayabusa
13.
New guy on blue and white
Hayabusa (1st ride)
14.
Tamzin Knight on the blue R6- it’s a YaHa as the
engine case scraped off in the middle.
15.
Ben Warden – Fireblade - yellow
16.
Ian Payne, navy blue 929,
el presidente
17.
Simon, same navy blue
929, second ride
18.
Paul Southwell, grey
beard, bright, shiny, very clean red CBR954
19.
Ken Wright, red Aprilia RSV1000
T’was a beautiful, bright,
cloudless, perfect winter day. Oh, hang on …that was
Saturday…
T’was a dodgy, clouded sky morning promising light to bloody dumping
rain. With a forecast of clear skies, top of 16 and light evening showers… I
have been lied to again.
Collection
of strays…
The group collected their
wits at Whittlesea. A line up of winter
coats talking about it being cool and I was freezing in a not-so-skimpy
leather jacket. (Skimpy really goes out
of fashion after a few kilos and years.) So I stuffed a Trading Post down my top.
Now that really added style and kilos and a bit of humour for everone else. I am not one to fuss too much if it means
looking like an ass or freezing; I will prefer to be warm.
I don’t like riding in that onepiece straight jacket called a rainsuit. I use it purely for prevention. As a
rule I am not superstiious, however after riding for
4 years, I have developed odd paranoid ‘ticks’.
One of them is, in order to prevent rain, carry lump of a rainsuit around. It
generally works.
Rob, with a Beemer, told
us politely where to go. I try very hard to understand but usually forget
within minutes. I do usually remember a
few names of towns, so I may not know how I got there but at least I know I am
in the right area. I hoped that I would see all the corner markers and
remembered to bring a map anyway.
Winding out of
Whittlesea to Kinglake West. In front of me I can see Paul on the clean CBR and a Dave on the Ducati, which looks kind of odd, with indicators sticking
out to the sides along with Dave’s knees.
Mick, on the Kwaka, was around there too
Then along
through the slippery soggy patches of Flowerdale. Then I saw a Busa whizz past with a very balanced, confident pillion. I noticed this because I turn into a nervous nelly on the back. Then a few more riders on big bikes go
past.
We zoom along and I think “I
know that there is a turn off somewhere here.” Oops, on the front brake, off
the front brake, watch
that gravel which enjoys hangin out on corners on
country roads. We turn down some road just outside of Flowerdale onto this rockingly good fun bit of fast road.
The bikes are pretty noisy
and I noticed the cows didn’t care so I gather bike riders blat
quite often down here, or the cows are now deaf. So I open throttle and the R6 happily sings
along, bouncing and chattering to itself until WHOA!,
50!!! Strath Creek and a lovely, gravel hairpin…. Whoops, that is me down to 30
and tip toeing through Strath.
After Strath Creek, up the first bit of
wiggles, cranked
over, I lost the front end with a quick squeak.
After those turns there are
lots of gum trees. Honestly, I have no idea where I am. (Heading
for Broadford …Ed.) Most of the time I spend not
knowing if I have passed people or if I am holding everyone up at the next
corner. If I am not lost, why haven’t I seen people in front or behind
for the last 20 minutes? My R6
bucks its way along, shaking its head due to a bad suspension set up, but still
saves my occasionally dumbass mistakes.
Weather at
Broadie, not raining, clouded and still cold. Might even be colder than before but the
fear-heat has warmed up the Trading Post.
I wonder if I could use this in an advertising campaign?
Quick drink, then most tootle down to the petrol
station in case we run out of fuel before Chewton…off again…
Somewhere on the other side
of Broadie: I had the scenery of sheep and green pastures, a Scots dream
eh? I thought of the Fins, Swedes and Pols which saw the potential in
Next vision was rocks, sheep
and green fields. A screeching cockatoo
sailed overhead, then a duck in straight line flight
flew in front of me. Bike front end
dived rather dramatically. Think I might
set that front end a bit harder. Duck
fine, rider un-nerved again. No wonder
they are called Duck *‘snort!# ’Giggle!’ ’Giggle!’ (My god, 32 and still no
idea.)
Chew tonne…
At Chewton. Lunch was
delicious!!! Great soup, great coffee. I was so
impressed! Normally acidic drip coffee is served as gourmet. The soup, too, was superb. I know that some had to wait for their soup
to be made! Well, that makes a change
from out of a can with a few added extras and garnishing (trying to put a
positive spin on it).
At least I get to gas-bag to people when we stop. I enjoy this as after a few hours of talking to myself in the helmet; I feel a bit relieved. My own company is fine with me. However, it is nice to get a new opinion. I sing too, so please don’t interrupt if you see my toes bouncing along on the pegs as the R6 bounces along on its hoops. We are in-sync.
After Chewton we go umm,
somewhere. I remember a wrong turn and wall to wall lichen. I have slowed down by this stage because I am
tired, cold and did I say, tired? The lichen really doesn’t do it for me. I am
watching all these experienced riders zoom along like it is nothing. Now, I
know, either it is nothing or it is a performance. With this group, methinks it is nothing and I
feel inexperienced.
This is really a lot of fun.
I know I am not bike fit but I feel the safety in numbers regarding the
police. I am also happy to ride with a
group where no-one (yet) has scared me by their riding.
I have been bounced and
bumped along some more wonderfully scenic and varied roads. All I can eat today
is Nurofen as I am essentially incredibly unfit and
push the muscles on another wonderful ride with the Motorcycle Touring Sport
Loony Association of somewhere in the South.
( I am yet to get the acronym right.) As usual I
remember faces, not names, but all the red wind burnt faces look serene by the
end of these rides.
Tamzin
Knight (Yamaha R6)