Motorcycle Quote of the Day

[Biggles]

Fast forward another six or eight months and we find Marty in his local 7-11 gas station paying for some goodies, when a motorcyclist walks in to pay for his petrol. Marty can't believe his eyes.
"Hey mate, that's a nice bike jacket. Where'd you get that?" he said, with perhaps just a hint of aggressive suspicion in his voice.
"Had it for years, bought it in one of the bike shops up in Elizabeth Street," was the careful reply, with perhaps just a hint of defence in his voice.
"Bullshit! That's my bloody jacket, 'cos I put that rip in it right there!" Marty was by now a little agitated.
So the guy's swung a quick punch into Marty's face, then bolted out of the door without paying, jumped on his bike with his helmet (Marty's helmet!) still on his elbow, and made good his escape.
Except, the whole incident was captured by the CCTV security cameras on the premises. The proprietor called the Police, and after viewing the footage they said, "Yep, we know who this guy is and where he lives. We've been after him for a while but we've never had any concrete evidence. Do you have any way to prove conclusively this is your bike jacket?"
Marty smiled through a fat lip and invited the coppers back to his home, where he sat them down with a coffee to watch his VHS copy of the 1995 Himalayan Heights Motorcycle Safari.  They pissed themselves laughing, got a search warrant issued, and busted the guy for several break-and-enter offences and various burglary charges. And just for good measure, one of assault.
Free Back Issue  Mike Ferris pp135-6

[Biggles]

India
Kerry was still initially unable to recall what had happened, but eventually many weeks later she was able to reconstruct what happened. She had just overtaken a car and the road had then narrowed suddenly, just as a light truck appeared around a corner, coming the other way. She had braked, but the driver now behind her had failed to respond. The car hit her from behind and knocked her off, and into the path of the oncoming truck, which then ran over her. We have no way of knowing whether either driver stopped to evaluate the situation, but she was alone on the road when Andrew came upon the scene a short time later.
Her injuries were horrendous. Both her legs were broken, with multiple compound fractures. An ankle was shattered and her hips and pelvic girdle were crushed. Her spleen was ruptured, she had severe other internal injuries, a wrist was broken, and she suffered many deep cuts and abrasions. She had lost an enormous quantity of blood; her blood pressure completely failed to register. Her pulse was extremely weak. Kerry had been very close to death.
Free Back Issue  Mike Ferris p156

[Biggles]

On another occasion, a Kiwi couple were having an issue with their bike and found themselves rolling quietly to a standstill jnder a tree, where they had no option but to wait patiently for our support crew in the minibus behind them. They had not been there two minutes when a local farmer walked up out of his field and, again very much in sign language, enquired as to whether there was a problem. Our couple did their best to explain motorcycle was indeed giving trouble but help was on its way.
The Turkish farmer nodded and remained silent for a moment, then walked to his little cottage about fifty metres way. By the time the support crew arrived, he had returned with three cups of chai, and stood under the shade of the tree quietly drinking tea with his new friends.
Free Back Issue  Mike Ferris p192

[Biggles]

So we completed the Himalayan Heights tour and Pottsy was happy to have seen Kashmir at last. He returned home to commence a pretty aggressive course of chemotherapy, but nothing was going to save him by this stage. As the end drew near, I went to visit him in the hospital. His beautiful wife, Isabel, was there with him, and the two of them were describing to me the list of drugs and chemicals which were being poured into his body. Graeme saw an opportunity to share one final joke with me.
"They've got me on everything except Viagra at the moment," he said with a smile.
"Well, that's probably a good thing!" I replied, fully realising he was just setting the scene.
"Of course, they're not allowed to call it that any more, are they?" he mused.
I happily walked into his trap. "Really? Why's that?"
"Because it's a brand name. They have to use the generic pharmaceutical term.... Mycoxaflopin."
Isabel hooted with laughter, even though she had probably heard his joke a dozen times already. If anyone ever deserved to live another thirty years on this planet, it was Captain Graeme Potts. But it was not to be. Graeme died just a few weeks short of his 70th birthday. He was old enough to be my father, and young enough to be my kid brother.
Free Back Issue  Mike Ferris p198

[Biggles]

The following morning however, my throat was visibly swollen and it was painful to consume breakfast. Someone suggested and produced some antihistamines and Denise said, "That's a good idea," so I threw a couple of them down and jumped on the bike. An hour or so later I had the worst accident of my life, and I have no real idea whether or not the antihistamines played a role, but it was then pointed out to me they've been known to cause drowsiness and it's advised not to operate machinery when taking them. The actual mechanics and the impact of the incident have been wiped from my consciousness, I suspect for ever.
But the two guys immediately behind me described how I was thrown high over the handlebars. Maybe I impulsively touched the front brake, I don't know (I'd like to think I know better than that), but I launched, and came down hard on my back. The side of my helmet showed scars from a decent whack.
Other group members were now gathering around me and one of them, Brian Heaton, was a trauma nurse who'd been on a couple of previous trips with me. He asked me if I would like him to remove my helmet, to which I replied I'd like to try doing it myself, in order to see which bits of me were still working. I was able to do so without any difficulty, so I knew my neck, shoulders and spine were okay. But it was at this moment a sudden horrible realisation hit me.
I have a preference for the modern flip-up lid, where you can fold the jaw-piece up and lock it into place in order to get some airflow into your face at low speed, and maybe chat to another rider at the traffic lights, for example. But at speed, you can (you are supposed to!) close it up to give the security and safety of a full-face helmet. I had neglected to close my helmet, and was stupidly barrelling along a gravel road at about 80kph with effectively an open-face helmet, offering not much by way of protection. I had taken a big hit on the side of my helmet, which had then simply flexed sideways and snapped my jaw in three places.
Free Back Issue  Mike Ferris pp233-4

[CallMeSteve]

Ouch. Seriously Ouch.  I’m waiting to hear  what comes after the ad break!

[Biggles]

Ouch. Seriously Ouch.  I’m waiting to hear  what comes after the ad break!

Gotta buy the book for that!   

[Biggles]

The following day we were still in Montenegro, and people had already commented we'd seen several police cars but wasn't it wonderful none of them seemed remotely interested in motorcycles. I was enjoying a hilly road, at nowhere near the warp speed we'd been doing the day before, but still at a pace exciting enough to get the adrenaline flowing. I came haring around a corner in the noisy end of the power band in fourth, cranked over, and there was a policeman leaning against the bonnet of his patrol car in a layby on the side of the road. He could not have failed to hear me coming from some way off, and he certainly could not have failed to hear me kick it back a gear into third while sitting up straight and pretending not to brake. But he became totally fascinated with the back of his fingernails and chose to completely ignore me - he didn't even look up to acknowledge my presence! I should perhaps have felt slighted or offended, but I just smiled inside my lid and thought, "What a fantastic little country this is."
Free Back Issue  Mike Ferris p267

[Biggles]

I called upon an analogy I am fond of using when we're in the desert sands of Morocco or Bolivia and people are having a challenging time of it; a simple exercise involving a baseball bat. If you've ever tried to balance a baseball bat vertically on the tip of your finger, you'll find it almost impossible to achieve if you have the heavy end at the bottom, in contact with your finger. This is because you have most of the weight at the same point as the fulcrum - your finger.
Turn the bat up the other way however, with the heavy end up high, and you'll find you immediately have much more control and can maintain balance quite readily. This is not so much because you are raising the bat's centre of gravity (but rest assured you are), it's more because you are shifting the weight away from the fulcrum. This allows you to reflexively move the fulcrum around much more readily beneath the weight and thus maintain overall balance.
"If we apply this concept to riding, Henry," I went on, "the fulcrum in question is where your body touches the bike. We grip our bike with our knees, calf muscles, ankles and feet, yes? If you also have your bum on the seat, this keeps your entire body weight in contact with this fulcrum and you'll not easily be able to throw the bike around below you. If you stand up however, you are releasing your body weight from the fulcrum which you can then move around underneath you with quicker reflexive actions."
Free Back Issue  Mike Ferris pp283-4

[Biggles]

The Road King has sizeable panniers, one which is for the luggage bag, and the other is pretty much permanently packed with bike gear including our waterproofs, a small tool roll, a first aid kit and one of those aerosol puncture repair things that are full of gunk. I'd owned the puncture aerosol for so long that all the paint, including the instructions, has worn off from constant rattling round in the pannier, so it's probably well past its sell-by date. Still, this just goes to prove my theory that, if you carry such things with you, you'll never need them, but if you don't have them with you then, in the remotest place possible, where there's no phone signal, you'll get a puncture or some other disaster for which you're not equipped, and you'll suffer a lingering death. Well, I'm still alive, so it's worked out OK so far.
The Furthest Points  Andy Hewitt  p26

[Biggles]

[On a previous trip by car to Gibraltar]
Parking, as you might imagine in such a densely populated area, is a bit of a nightmare, so after failing to find anywhere, I eventually parked in a ticketed car park and accepted that, two-and-a-bit days later, when we were due to leave, we would be looking at a hefty fee. Returning to collect the car, I noticed that, on the sign displaying the car park rules (how very British), it clearly stated that, if you lost your ticket, you would have to pay for a full day. Hmm! At the exit barrier, I made a display of searching the car and my wallet and, eventually, smiling sheepishly up at the bloke in the kiosk, said, "I can't find my ticket."
"In that case," came the smug reply from Mr. Jobsworth, "I will have to charge you for a full day's parking. It's the rules, and it says so on the sign."
"That's OK, mate," I replied, handing him a tenner instead of the best part of forty pounds. "It's my fault for losing the ticket. You're only doing your job."
I was still sniggering about my victory as we drove off Gibraltar and into Spain. Kim thinks I'm easily amused by such things, but in this day and age, I see such matters as major victories for we ordinary folk against the rules and regulations of an increasingly bureaucratic state. Saving thirty pounds was pretty good too.
The Furthest Points  Andy Hewitt  p33

[Biggles]

[On a previous trip by bike by himself...]
"¿Esa es su Harley?" he asked and then, realising I wasn't Spanish repeated his question in very good English. "Is that your Harley?"
I explained it wasn't exactly mine but a rental. It turned out that my new friend was Dutch but had lived in Spain for most of his life. He was also a Harley rider and the local HOG director. He owned the estate agent's across the plaza, and we spent the next hour or so sipping coffee in the sun and talking bikes. When he realised I had no real plans for my ride, he insisted on paying my café bill, took me to his office, got out a map, photocopied a section and highlighted a circuitous route that would eventually take me back to Benidorm. This sort of thing is typical of the biker fraternity. It was doubtful we would ever meet again, but we'd spent an enjoyable hour in each other's company, and he'd gone out of his way to be helpful. I was later very happy that I followed his advice because the route took me deep into the Alicante countryside, through sleepy villages, along winding roads, over hills and down dales- a far cry from Benidorm. The weather was perfect, and his kindness resulted in me having a truly memorable day's ride.
The Furthest Points  Andy Hewitt  p63

[Biggles]

So far, although the day had remained overcast, the rain had mercifully held off. This was about to change, however, and about an hour after leaving Valencia, in the vicinity of Castellon de la Plana, I could see we were heading towards an unbroken wall of black, angry-looking clouds. What I usually do in such a situation is employ optimism to keep me dry, i.e. I keep riding in the hope that it won't rain. Of course, by the time I realise my optimism is misplaced, there's no suitable place to stop to put on my wets, and it's already raining. Consequently, I'm usually soaked before I get my waterproofs on, which kind of defeats the object of having them in the first place. Today, however, I decided the sky was so black, it was inevitable we were going to hit some rain, so I pulled over next to a small supermarket where we donned our waterproofs. It didn't take long to get togged up, and before long, we were indeed riding through torrential rain.
The Furthest Points  Andy Hewitt  p85

[Biggles]

We saw quite a lot of Harleys on the road that day. Possibly, this was due to it being a public holiday, but I'd also noticed a few groups of riders on non-Spanish registered bikes, so I wondered what was going on. We'd already passed a large group of Polish-registered bikes on our way out of Barcelona, and when we stopped for gas and coffee at a service station, there were several Harleys parked up, including a group of guys with Swedish plates on their bikes. Wandering across and saying hello, 1 asked them if they were having a good trip, and we swapped a few bike stories. I found out they'd attended a Harley rally in the vicinity over the weekend. I had to take my hat off to them because Stockholm to Barcelona is a trip of 2,800 kilometres (1740 miles). We'd been on the road for ten days and had only so far done around 1,800 kilometres (1,118 miles). The Swedish bikes were heavily customised which is something that's fairly normal for Scandinavian bikes. This is because of the long winters and the short riding season which mean that bikes are usually off the road during the long, dark winters, and their owners get their biking fix by working on them. One of the guys was riding a hard-tail chopper. Hard-tail means bike has a rigid frame and no rear suspension and is usually only seen on bikes that are primarily for show rather than go. This guy was obviously from pure Viking stock because a 5,600-kilometre (3,480-mile) round trip wouldn't be something that many people would attempt on a touring bike, much less a hard-tail. Big respect.
The Furthest Points  Andy Hewitt  p110

[Biggles]

I have to sing the praises of Kim, who is an amazingly good motorcycle passenger. In fact, riding with Kim is just the same as riding with no Kim. In other words, I don't really notice she's there. If you think that being a good passenger on a motorcycle is easy, it isn't. A bad passenger is hard work for the rider. Kim leans with the bike at exactly the right time and uses her own body language to help me balance when we're moving at walking pace in heavy traffic. She's totally comfortable on the back of a bike, and it's even been known for her to fall asleep on a few occasions. I notice this when I feel her helmet bump against the back of my own. She's never once asked me to slow down or had a go at me for anything, even after some enthusiastic footboard-scraping along roads such as the one we'd just traveled.
Given how good she is on a motorcycle, it's totally weird that she's completely the opposite when in a car. I enjoy my cars as much as my bikes, and I've had some nice vehicles in my time, some of which have been rather quick. Phrases such as "You're going far too fast", "Watch that truck!" and "For God's sake, slow down!" are often accompanied by Kim flinching violently in the passenger seat when I'm enjoying myself. I've consequently learned that the time to enjoy, shall we say, spirited driving, is when Kim isn't with me.
The Furthest Points  Andy Hewitt  pp131-2

[Biggles]

Satnav Woman: In one hundred metres, take the next turning on the left.
Me, making the turn: "Thank you so much."
Satnav Woman: Recalculating.
Me: "What?"
Satnav Woman: Recalculating.
Slowing down and collecting a few cars behind me: "Bloody get a move on will you! Where next?"
Satnav Woman: Recalculating.
Car behind: Beep!
Me: "Piss off! I'm lost, and your Spanish road systems are useless."
Satnav Woman: At the first opportunity, make a U-turn.
Me: "Have you seen the size of these streets? There's not enough room to swing a cat, let alone make a U-turn."
Satnav Woman: "Make a U-turn.
Me: "Bloody hell. Hang on a bit, will you? I'm trying to find a place to turn around."
Satnav Woman: Make a U-turn.
I eventually manage to negotiate a few streets, and we're heading back towards the original junction from the same direction as before.
Satnav Woman: In one hundred metres, take the next turning on the left.
Me: "I don't bloody believe it! You said that last time, you stupid woman, and then you immediately told me to make a bloody U-turn because it was the wrong bloody direction!"
Kim: "There's a road sign there for where we want to go. Why don't you just go that way?"
The Furthest Points  Andy Hewitt  pp153-4

[Biggles]

Satnav Woman and my misted-up glasses confused me at a junction, and I mistakenly turned right instead of left at a traffic island, so we were now about to head in the wrong direction. I decided not to filter onto the road and, instead, stopped and put my left indicator on and waited for a gap in the traffic so that I could cross to the other side of the road we were joining. It was then that we encountered the second dickhead of our trip. The guy behind, who could quite easily have passed us on our right to take the filter, decided it would be a good idea to start sounding his horn in protest at my possibly illegal, but certainly not dangerous, manoeuvre. I waved an apology, but this just resulted in more beeping. By this point, I was tired, cold, wet and, consequently, wasn't in the best of moods, so when Kim leaned forward to tell me that he was videoing us with his phone, that was the last straw. I switched off the bike, leaned her over onto the kickstand, dismounted and strode towards the guy in his car with less than charitable thoughts in my mind. I must have looked as threatening as I was feeling because the dickhead suddenly stopped videoing and decided he could pass the bike after all and made a hasty exit. Still, I guess that encountering only two dickheads in eighteen days of travelling wasn't a bad statistic and definitely one that endorses my view that Spain is a very agreeable place and so are the vast majority of its people.
The Furthest Points  Andy Hewitt  p190

[hobs]

You can't buy happiness,
but you can buy a motorcycle,
and that is basically the same thing.

[Biggles]

Another thing that spoiled a perfect day's riding was that, when we reached Poio, Satnav Woman guided us up and down some very narrow village roads. When she finally announced, "You have reached your destination," we couldn't see anything that looked remotely like a guesthouse. We parked the bike and walked up and down lanes looking for Rua O Muino, which was the road on which the guesthouse, Casa O Muino, was supposedly located, but found absolutely nothing. I was forced to execute a very tricky three-point turn on a narrow, steeply sloping road, which isn't something to be recommended on a heavy touring bike loaded with luggage. As a motorbike has no reverse gear, and it's impossible to paddle a heavy bike backwards and uphill, it's necessary to make sure that all the uphill parts of the turn are done in a forward direction, allowing the bike to reverse by gravity. I was hot and sweating in my bike gear and not in the best of moods after managing to get the bike pointed in the right direction. My mood hadn't improved much when, an hour later, we had still not located the guesthouse. Further consultations with Satnav Woman kept directing us back to the same place where she continued to insist we'd reached our destination. I eventually flagged down a passing motorist and asked if he could direct us to Casa O Muino.
"Si, sigueme," he replied with a smile.
The Furthest Points  Andy Hewitt  pp200-1

[Biggles]

As we were leaving the gas station, I noticed the bike was running very fast on tick-over and hoped this wasn't going to become another expensive technical problem. Running all my other Harleys had cost me almost nothing, apart from routine servicing. Roadie, however, which was the latest, brand-new and much-improved model when I bought it, was a different story. My thinking when I bought the bike was that, because it was my intention this would probably be the bike would keep until I retired from biking, I might as well get the newest model with all the upgrades and improvements that came with it. It had, however, cost me an arm and a leg over the years due to various problems, even though I'd racked up less than 30,000 kilometres (18,600 miles).
The original front brake discs warped at quite low mileage, so I upgraded them to a pair of Harley chrome floating discs. These looked great but also warped at not very many more kilometres later. This wasn't a major expense, but three pairs of brake discs in 25,000 kilometres (15,000 miles) is a bit much. The engine control unit had died when I'd stupidly jet-washed the bike. That was expensive, but as it was totally my fault; I can't really blame Harley-Davidson.
The Furthest Points  Andy Hewitt  p205

[Biggles]

As we strolled (or teetered, in Kim's case) back to the hotel, we passed a double garage attached to a large house. The garage was adjacent to the pavement; the doors were glass-panelled, and the lights had been left on to allow people to see inside. When I stopped for a look, I saw a couple of classic cars set amongst a collection of auto memorabilia. The whole collection was set out and displayed beautifully, and I thought that sharing his passion and beautiful display with passers-by was a splendid thing for the owner to have done.
This random and unusual act of kindness gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling and provided a great end to a really good evening. I liked Cascais a lot.
The Furthest Points  Andy Hewitt  p224

[Biggles]

Apart from a few bikeless years when the family came along, biking has been a part of my life since I was fourteen and too young to hold a licence. I can honestly say that, even when I've been soaking wet, cold, tired and miserable on a bike, I've never once considered giving up biking. I've enjoyed riding bikes, working on bikes, customising bikes and dreaming about bikes, and I've particularly enjoyed the fact that, for the past several years, biking has been something Kim and I have been able to share. Over the years, I've ridden motorcycles in seventeen different countries, and on most these occasions, Kim has been with me. It's been a fantastic way for us to discover new countries and to experience all that goes with this type of travel. Motorcycling has also enabled us to meet many new people through the biking community, many of whom have become good friends. We've laughed a lot, drunk a lot and partied a lot as well as ridden a lot in the company of many, many good people, all due to biking.
The Furthest Points  Andy Hewitt  p237

[Biggles]

George is a veteran of Round-the-World by motorbike, having circumnavigated the globe 5 times as illustrated on his hard panniers. He watches as we struggle to put up the 4 x 4 metre tarpaulin in the relentless wind. We tie it to trees, we fix the poles with guy ropes and tent pegs into the sandy earth, we raise one side against the wind, we do more combinations and angles ever dreamt of to get it to stay up and eventually even with George's help we abandon the idea and pack it away. George tells us that he can put up his tarpaulin single-handed. Next we haul out the tent and 'kitchen' on a handy bench arrangement nearby. George shows us his tent, his bedding, his tent pegs, his kitchen and cooking facilities and offers a multitude of advice and tips on ways we could do better. George is certainly helpful, and certainly demoralising. We were quite happy with our lot before we met George. Anyway we have stored a written and a photographic record of all the stuff that George has and will use his expert information another time.
2up2wheels In Eastern Europe B and S Niemann p9

[Biggles]

Its almost 4 pm and we have been searching for a campsite for 2 hours, travelling ever South, being bombarded by the buffeting wind. On the 6th attempt, following the GPS's 'places to camp' category, we turned into an arched gateway down a narrow road into a vast courtyard. Oops, this looks like a private house. But no, a very enthusiastic Guiseppe rushed to meet and greet and welcome us to his family-owned campsite. How could we resist? "Please, Go anywhere, Camp anywhere, Hot showers, Moonlight walk, Bread and Coffee at the cafe, spare tables to use, Enjoy, Enjoy, Enjoy." And we did. After setting up camp, (no tarpaulin tonight), and cooking up a batch of spaghetti and pesto, we took Guiseppe's advice. We had a sunset stroll around the well-lit paths of Volcano Sulfate, peering into bubbling steam-filled holes and smelling wafting sulphur. It soon got dark and as we crept into our homely little red tent we cosied up in the warmth. Warmth! Soon we were shedding sleeping bags and opening up the vents. Why are we so hot? For underfloor heating in a tent we can seriously recommend camping in a volcano.
2up2wheels In Eastern Europe B and S Niemann p16

[Biggles]

Pietre down to Maiori was a spectacularly stunning and dangerous 9.5kms. I say dangerous because we had a close one. I had been taking photos with my right hand but decided that the steep S-bends required more than just a balancing act. I really should be holding on to Brausch. In one simultaneous moment as I leant left to tuck the camera away, Brausch swung around a right bend, I straightened up and we over-balanced skimming into a retaining wall, bouncing on the right-side pannier which threw us sharply left again. The next S-bend was immediately upon us but fortunately a small pull-off area allowed us to right ourselves and stop next to a low wall below us with a heavenly view of thousands of dangling lemons. Without thinking too much that we could have been dangling amongst them, we unpacked the lunch bag and munched on last night's left-over spaghetti pesto. Time and space for a break, indeed. Brausch is puzzled as to why the bike had veered into the wall for no apparent reason. I then realised the critical part that the pillion plays in the whole riding and cornering pattern and confessed that I'd been fiddling around at the back putting my camera away, which changed the balance of the bike. Not so good on a hairpin bend on a cliff face.
2up2wheels In Eastern Europe B and S Niemann p20