Motorcycle Quote of the Day

[Biggles]

I have found that in my time riding in the US there are two clear groups of people. The first lot know nothing at all about motorcycles and, perhaps understandably, they don't need to know about them or even care about them. Then there is a second group of people who also seem to know nothing about bikes or riding apart from the fact that they do know of someone who was fatally injured, dismembered, suffered brain damage or had some truly frightful injury inflicted upon them because they chose to ride on two wheels. Not once has a single member of this latter group ever told me a great story about someone they knew who had a tremendous motorcycle ride across an empty desert, or rode up a lonely mountain road, or just went out for a ride and still came back with their limbs intact.
There And Back Again To See How Far It Is Tim Watson p234

[Biggles]

PCH was literally dug into the side of the California cliffs in the 1930s, and as well as hugging the coast it has some fantastic bridges spanning deep canyons that run into the ocean. It was extreme nature spanning deep canyons that run into the ocean. It was extreme nature at its very best. I had never seen a road like it and it was certainly one of the best I had ever ridden - dramatic scenery, craggy shorelines, crashing ocean waves that are so close you feel you could reach out and touch them, and an empty, fast, twisting road that compelled you to ride faster and faster. It ticked all the bike-riding boxes for me and was a superb few hours of riding. I had to stop every 20 minutes to pull into lay-bys just to peer down at the Pacific Ocean and try and take in all this astonishing scenery. It really was nature gone wild.
There And Back Again To See How Far It Is Tim Watson p251

[Biggles]

Anne slammed on her motorcycle's brakes and I could hear her shouting in surprise as she slid towards the pavement, but she managed to bring her bike to a halt without hitting the Mercedes or some nearby pedestrians waiting at a crossing. It was a very close thing and I was incensed - so angry, in fact, that I went charging after the Mercedes driver. He whipped past me, back into the left-hand lane, and tried to get away. I began shouting profanities at him while chasing him up the road, and then the traffic lights turned to red and he had no option but to stop. He looked very sheepish, and was clearly trying to avoid eye contact with me, but he had left his passenger side window down.
“You idiot!” I shouted. “What the hell were you thinking? Didn't you see that motorcycle? Why did you pull out like that without looking?”
I was furious on two counts. First, because he had nearly knocked my wife off her motorcycle, but second, because we had spent the past few months riding through eight US states on some wickedly dangerous roads, covering many thousands of trouble-free miles (although I'd caused a few problems) only to get almost within sight of our house for something as stupid as this to happen.
There And Back Again To See How Far It Is Tim Watson p255

[Biggles]

The Mercedes driver was a young guy, about 30 years old. He looked across at me and said: “I'm really sorry, dude. I didn't mean to do that. I'm in a hurry and J am really late. I am though really, really sorry. Please don't make this out to be a big deal.”
I got a glimpse of myself in one of my bike's mirrors. I had six weeks' worth of beard, I was filthy dirty on a great big black Harley- Davidson and I looked very angry, even to me. Heck, I'd be sorry if I saw myself in my rear-view mirror coming up the road and shouting and cursing.
“Well it is a big deal,” I said. “Use your frigging mirrors, man, if you are going to pull out like that. Just don't drive around without looking. You could have killed her.”
There And Back Again To See How Far It Is Tim Watson p255-6

[Biggles]

If I'd been in a car I would never have seen some of these things or met some of the people we encountered along the way. From the saddle of my motorcycle I got to see, up close and personal, the real, raw beauty of the American landscape and it's far, far better and more diverse than anything you will ever see on film or in a photograph. I'll remember those broad horizons, staggeringly beautiful mountains and the silence of the deserts for the rest of my days.
I also learned to ride a motorcycle just a little better. If I could just get those right-hand corners sorted I might find I'd stop going round and round in left-hand circles all the time. As I pushed my bike back into my garage in Santa Ana, California, at the end of the final leg of our journey, I stopped for a second to take a look at it.
It was really dirty. It was absolutely covered in layers of road grime and dead insects. And so was I. In the twilight of that Californian evening I started to think to myself that I could do that road trip, every single mile of it, all over again, beginning tomorrow morning.
There And Back Again To See How Far It Is Tim Watson p257-8

[Biggles]

The road over the Andes doesn't disappoint. Around every corner (and there are plenty of them) there's a vista that takes our breath way. Brian is thriving on it and there's no chatter between us. Brian is at one with the bike and I relax into the groove.
Brian: This magnificent piece of road is as I imagined it would be. The road surface is just about perfect. The bike's handling the tight corners so well I forget that we're fully loaded and would probably tip the scales about 500 kilos.
There's snow on the peaks that tower above us as we take on the 50 or more switchback corners. Looking back down into the valley the trucks look like toys, slowly making their way up the Andes. It is truly amazing. As we head higher and higher the temperature drops from mid 30°C down to a comfortable 21°C.
The Cristo Redentor Tunnel that takes us to the border between Chile and Argentina is 3,080 metres long. At the Los Andes Paseo Libertadores, the mountain pass, we're more than three kilometres high, remarkable when you think Mt Kosciusko, Australia's highest peak, is about 2,228 metres.
Circle To Circle  Shirley & Brian Rix  p15

[Biggles]

Last night the wind howled across the desert but just as dawn breaks there's an eerie silence, as if Mother Nature is taking a break. Today will be tough so we want to hit the road early. Just as we're getting dressed, the wind picks up again and keeps getting stronger. I soften the front suspension dampening, which will hopefully make the bike soak up the corrugations. I also let some air out of the tyres to allow them to grip a little more.
The wind is gusting and continually tries to push the bike into the loose stones. You get used to the front end skipping sideways. I try pick my way through as best I can but get caught out every now and then. We pass a tip truck, its trailer blown over onto its roof. We take a break and rest behind the only poor excuse for a tree we've seen for over 250 km, have a bite to eat and get back on the bike. Just standing in the wind is tiring so we might as well push on.
Circle To Circle  Shirley & Brian Rix  p28

[Biggles]

It's a normal work day so Avenue 9 de Julio is teeming with traffic. Negotiating it and the city's system of by-passes, freeways and tollways is a little tricky and stressful. We get bamboozled, even with the GPS, and end up going on and off the tollway and then back on again when we miss a turn.
Eventually we find Dakar Motos in a tiny, leafy street in the suburbs. Plenty of travellers begin or end their South American odysseys here. Javier is big, powerful man who's ridden many of the roads we're travelling. Sandra, his very glamorous Mrs Fix-It wife, helps travellers through the bureaucratic maze of shipping bikes in and out of the country. They even offer a bed and a hot shower. Their generosity to total strangers is a lesson to us all.
There's no rushing to get things done here. Everything works on Argentinean time. There are breaks to chat with friends, or sip on a Mate (pronounced mar-tay), the herbal tea concoction that so many constantly drink in this part of the world. It's an acquired taste that we don't acquire.
Javier changes the tyre by hand, using the side stand of another bike to break the bead, then three tyre levers. Putting the tyre on is a real struggle, and it takes Javier, his son and I wrestling tyre levers to get it mounted in the correct position.
Circle To Circle  Shirley & Brian Rix  p58

[Biggles]

Negotiating the border with the motorcycle is easy. After the obligatory photo at the Argentina, Brazil and Paraguay border we head to the border post. It's a drive-through - just like McDonalds.
Within minutes we're riding across the bridge spanning the Iguazu River. The border is in the middle: one side is painted with the Argentinean national colours of blue and white; the other side is in the Brazilian national colours of yellow and green. Theoretically you shouldn't stop in the no man's land between borders but we can't resist this majestic river and the multi-coloured bridge.
 Now we're in Brazil the only map we have is the one in the Lonely Planet’s guidebook. Luckily our hostel is in the same street as the Paraguayan Consulate so I manage to get there without a hiccup.
Circle To Circle  Shirley & Brian Rix  p76

[Biggles]

We know we're high in the mountains but we're not sure how high. This is altitude sickness for sure. The pass over the Andes to Mendoza was about 3,500 metres and we both handled that well. This must be higher.
In the restaurant we meet Pepe and Valentina who are riding their single-cylinder BMW 650. They don't speak much English but we work out they're locals taking a short break to Machu Picchu. I notice they don't seem to be having any trouble with the altitude and let us in on their secret - coca leaves. Valentina kindly gives me some and shows me how to roll up a leaf and put it under my tongue. You don't chew it or swallow it. Your saliva breaks down the leaf and you swallow that.
Circle To Circle  Shirley & Brian Rix  p86

[Biggles]

The road to Bolivia takes us into the foothills of the Andes and back through the valleys to the coast. It twists and turns and requires some concentration. I love these roads.
Back on the coast we get to Arica and find the on-site parking promised by the hotel is actually in a building site on the corner. I just stand back and let Shirl take on the staff in her monosyllabic Spanish.
 'Parque aqui,' (parking here) she says determinedly. 'No, parque esquinal (No, parking on the corner) is the reply. She's not going to back down. Finally the owner is called and organises for the bike to spend the night at a parking area across the road that'll be locked at dusk. I'm impressed with her negotiating skills, considering it was all done in Spanish.
Circle To Circle  Shirley & Brian Rix  p94

[STeveo]

Loving the stories Biggles, keep 'em going please.

[Biggles]

A lone black dog trots along the side of the road, his matted fur covered in snow. He doesn't seem to notice. My left hand is so cold I can't feel my fingers. The right one is constantly on and off the throttle so the blood's still circulating. It stays like this for a good 50 kilometres and there's nowhere to stop under shelter, so we push on.
The front of the bike slides out on an oil patch on the slippery road. I save it, but strain my back. I guess a strained back is better than sliding down the road.
A bit further on I dodge a pothole big enough to do some real damage to the front wheel by crossing onto the wrong side of the road in a hurry and we slip again. One thing about the riding here, there's never a dull moment.
Circle To Circle  Shirley & Brian Rix  p113

[Biggles]

After spending a day and a half at Bogota airport trying to organise the bike we arrive at the passenger terminal convinced this will be a breeze.
We get called up to the check in counter only to be told that can't get on the plane because we don't have a ticket out of Panama. Of course we don't. We have a motorcycle in Panama and will be riding out of the country.
The very pleasant young lady behind the counter is adamant. The fact we have a motorcycle in the freight terminal, and probably on this very flight, accounts for nothing. We still have to have a plane ticket out of the country. It is something to do with travelling on Australian passports.
Oh, you've got to be kidding. I'm angry. I get pissed off. I shout. I cajole. I demand to see the supervisor. The supervisor tells me she's rung Panama and they tell her we may be refused entry to the country if we don't have a ticket to leave.
No matter what I say they will not budge. Shirl goes and buys two tickets from Panama City back to Bogota. I hit the roof when she tells me they cost $800 until I find out they're fully refundable.
“Thank you, Sir. That's perfect.”
Circle To Circle  Shirley & Brian Rix  p139

[Biggles]

We've battled plenty of borders with our very average Spanish. When Rae, our taxi driver who speaks English, offers to help us through the customs process for a few extra dollars we readily agree. It turns out to be money well spent.
The airport freight area is a jumble of small buildings and warehouses with no signs. Without Rae's help it would have taken ages to find the customs and freight offices, let alone get the paperwork done. The bike is brought out and I try to start it. It won't kick over. I can't believe the battery is flat after just a couple of days. There's no option but to try and push start it. I get a run up on the driveway and the Woody thing overbalances. Next thing I know it's lying on its side and Shirl is running towards me, panicking.
 The bike is fine and I'm fine, but a little mystified. I didn't need to disconnect the battery for the flight. Then it dawns on me. I put the kill switch on when I lodged it at Bogota. It's something I rarely do. How embarrassing. A flick of the switch and it starts first time and we're on our way to the petrol station.
Circle To Circle  Shirley & Brian Rix  p141-2

[Biggles]

There's a fair bit of lightning about while we have dinner, but rain. We need an early night after organising a wake-up knock on the door at 3.45 am. We've been asleep for a while when the rain comes, by the bucket load. The bike is parked right outside the room, but we can't see it from the window, the rain is that heavy.
We've been listening for a while when we hear an almighty crash. We get dressed, sort of, with just T shirts and undies to check it out. The bike was on rock hard dirt when we parked it outside the room this afternoon. That dirt is now mud and the bike is lying on its side against a stone fence. The bike has rolled forward making it difficult to undo the front of the bike cover. Once we manage that, Brian balances the bike while I get the disc lock off so we can move the bike. We shift it onto the stone path at the side of our room. We can't see if there's any damage, it’s pitch black and it's pissing down. We put the lock and cover back on and go back to bed, listening to the rain until we eventually fall asleep.
Circle To Circle  Shirley & Brian Rix  p155

[Biggles]

Brian is getting sick. He has an ear infection and a sore throat. It's been a long six months on the road. We've had long days on the bike. The roads are not great, the maps are not great and the bike is heavy. All in all there's a lot of pressure on him. Because of the weight in the bags I can't help him repack the bike, so he ends up doing that everyday too.
After months of battling with the language, the bad roads and bad drivers, we're both looking forward to getting to the US. Just about every town in Mexico is guarded by speed bumps every 10 or 20 metres. They slow us down and they're not good for the bike or Brian's good humour. Each one seems to be a different size and design and they're in different states of repair and disrepair.
While Brian sleeps I check out Monterrey, our destination for the final run to the border. On the Trip Advisor website there's a travel warning. Foolishly I click on it. It's a big mistake. The Australian Government warning is quite clear. Don't go there. In August, 52 people were murdered in the casino. They also advise travellers to stick to the toll roads and keep doors locked while driving. Well, that's helpful.
Circle To Circle  Shirley & Brian Rix  p163

[Biggles]

Shirley: The wind picks up and now there's really nowhere to stop and put on our wets. The wind's howling and the rain starts to belt down. So much for skirting the storm. We have to pull up or we're going to get saturated. The wind makes getting our waterproof jackets on a real struggle. And then the rain turns to hail, hailstones the size of golf balls. They're so big they hurt when they hit.
We crouch down behind the bike but it doesn't help. Brian says should try and ride through it. It's as black as Hades and the hail is still pelting down. I try and tuck in behind Brian but that doesn't stop the pain. And it's cold, really cold, in the blistering wind. We don't get very far before we have to stop again.
The hail stops but the road's covered in ice a few centimetres thick, making it very dangerous. Brian picks his way through following tracks made by the cars and trucks ahead of us. He does an amazing job keeping us safe at times like this.
Circle To Circle  Shirley & Brian Rix  p174

[Biggles]

Brian: There are 5,000 people at the Overland Expo and somehow we need to track down our Aussie mates, Ken and Carol Duval. They're on their second ride around the world. Ken's in his early 60s and still rides despite having two hip replacements. Carol thrives on life on the road and is the master packer. She's so good at fitting every little item onto their bike she holds packing classes. I'm wandering through a group when an Aussie voice says, 'Aren't you Brian Rix?' I don't expect to hear that, this far from home. It’s an older bloke, who tells me it's my fault he's here. He met us after our last trip and that encouraged him to get off his arse and travel. Now he's riding a bike around the US. Good on him.
Circle To Circle  Shirley & Brian Rix  p178-9

[Biggles]

Shirley: San Francisco - what a city. Our hotel’s in the Cow Hollow area. We love the houses, the bars, the restaurants. We ride the trolley cars, wander along Fisherman's wharf, eat fabulous seafood and even take in a movie.
 We love San Francisco and what better way to farewell the city than to ride down Lombard Street, the world's most crooked street. It's great fun riding down the steep street with its eight hairpin turns. I get the feeling the driver of the car in front of us is scared we're going to end up in his boot. Poor Brian is being squashed against the tank because I can't help but crawl all over his back and push him forward, the road's so steep. It's a little discomfort for massive fun.
Circle To Circle  Shirley & Brian Rix  p187

[Biggles]

(In Alaska)
Brian: We're cruising along about 95 kph on the lookout for bears. Apparently they graze beside the road up here. Ken and Carol are behind us. All of a sudden the bike starts to sag at the back end and then there's an almighty grinding sound, the back wheel locks up as the whole rear of the bike collapses onto the wheel. I'm sure we're going to end up sliding down the road. I grit my teeth, brace my arms and ride it to a halt, coming to a stop with a screech of things grinding and the back wheel locked up. I know it's not good before I even get off the bike.
 Ken pulls up and says, “Shit that was amazing! Bits and pieces flying everywhere! Have you blown a tyre? Is it bits of rubber?”
I wish it was that simple. When I look at the bike it's clear what's happened. The rear shock shaft has snapped in half, pushing the shock and spring into the plastic rear hugger I put on to protect the shock from mud. That's disintegrated and it’s bitten into the tyre. It's a bloody mess, to put it mildly. The whole rear of the bike is resting on the back wheel. It's something I didn't expect to happen; it's an Ohlins Shocker, the best money can buy.
Circle To Circle  Shirley & Brian Rix  p203-4

[Biggles]

John wants to take us to the town of Whittier while we're in the area. Built on the other side of the mountain during World War II, the only way to it is through the rail tunnel - on the bikes. It's only one train track wide and 4.2 kilometres long. They open the tunnel up to the town on the half hour and back on the hour.
While we wait for the tunnel to open Shirl reads the safety leaflet. She’s a good worrier so this gives her something to worry about. John and I don't bother. She'll tell me if I do something wrong.
It's narrow, slippery and slow, but it's an amazing experience. I take the track between the rail lines, riding cautiously. A sudden rush of air gives me a hell of a fright and moves the bike around. It's the air duct pumping fresh air into the tunnel. I wonder if they're mentioned in the safety brochure. This is a real one-off experience. You don't get to ride a railway track every day.
Circle To Circle  Shirley & Brian Rix  p243-4

[Biggles]

We ride the Needles Highway - a most incredible road that winds its way through pillars of granite, known as needles. It's a twisty road through narrow canyons surrounded by stone cliffs, pines and fir trees. One tunnel's a single lane wide. A couple of blasts of the horn before heading through and you hope there's nothing coming the other way.
I don't think it can get any better and then we hit the Iron Mountain Road, highway 16A. It's 27 kilometres of incredible road through the mountains and boasts 314 curves, 14 switchbacks, three pigtails, three tunnels, four presidents and two splits. The presidents, of course, is the view of presidents Washington, Jefferson, Roosevelt and Lincoln at Mount Rushmore you can see as you ride out of one of the tunnels.
The tourist authorities describe it as an historical work of art. Some people might dispute it, but for a motorcyclist it's possibly the best road in the world. I know that's a big claim, but it's awesome.
Circle To Circle  Shirley & Brian Rix  p268

[Biggles]

(In France)
Brian: The bitter cold and persistent fog make me realise we made right decision not to head to Turkey. Instead we go south to Spain for some better weather. Our first stop is a cafe in a little town just over the border. There are photos of motorcycle racing champion Carlos Checa on the walls. In broken Spanish I find out he has a villa nearby and often drops in for lunch, but not today.
 The sun breaks through late in the morning and it turns into one of those magic days on the road. The sun's shining; the road is twisty with very little traffic. We hit the edge of the Pyrenees.
There are plenty of tunnels through the mountains - two kilometres, four kilometres and five kilometres cutting down our journey time. It's not cheap, though - the longest costs €11 (over $16.00) - and we spend more on tolls than fuel today.
Circle To Circle  Shirley & Brian Rix  p295

[Biggles]

We finally get the bike on Wednesday afternoon. What a palaver. It hasn't been damaged in transit, but it won't start. After using jumper leads to crank over the battery I remember that pesky kill switch. I forgot I used it - again.
Back at the hotel everyone is keen to see the mystery bike we've talking about for days. At last we can get on the road. It feels a little like leaving home when we finally ride out the gate.
First day on the road and the rear drive seal is leaking again. BMW's head office suggests we contact BMW Hillcrest near Durban. This is the eighth time and we've only ridden about 300 kilometres since the last fix in London.
The people at BMW Hillcrest are so helpful they even organise a B&B for us for the night. There's another Aussie at BMW, David Gow from Brisbane. This lanky biker is heading into Central Africa and is loping all the troubles that kept us from the north will be resolved before he gets there. BMW fix our bike for free, as a warranty job. They've been so helpful, Dave and I do the good Aussie thing and buy them a case of beer. Thanks.
Circle To Circle  Shirley & Brian Rix  p304-5