Sunday, 11 July 2010
We're getting some buffeting!
Went to sleep last night to the sound of the rain, woke up this morning to the sound of the wind. I don't care, I'm using the bike for work today. I'm working 7 days this week, this half-day Sunday is the closest thing I'm getting to a weekend. I'm using the bike.
The rain had just about dried off by the time I set out on the deserted roads this morning, and I never noticed much wind either, other than a fresh breeze in my helmet trying to compete with the Boom Boom Satellites in my ears and the rattle of my bike's tail panels. I'm sure some sellotape or blu tac or something would fix that.
Anyway, come the afternoon I've got 20 minutes to get home to catch the Grand Prix, something I know I can do in a car. As soon as I'm up on the dual carriageway, I'm belted in the face and my bikes kicked aside as the wind berates me for dismissing it earlier. Both hands on the bars, this may get a little rough.
Leaning at about 60 degrees in order to go in a straight line isn't as comically funny as it seems, and I'm soon zipping up my jacket further at the first opportunity. The waves starting to hit me in the chest trying to topple me backwards getting more frequent, I snarl at smug bastards nodding to me from their K1200s and Blackbirds as I'm struggling to hit 50mph and stay upright. I probably look like I'm nodding back, I'm being shaken about so much. I suppose this was the 'experience' I was looking for when I thought it'd be a good idea to go out in this weather on a naked 125, rather than being in a comfy car.
Soon though, I'm into nice sheltered 40 and 30 zones, tapping and singing out loud to the music only I can hear. That's probably better done in a car too, when I think about it.
So I get in and discover I've missed the first 7 laps of the grand prix, and it all now feels like a wasted struggle. The answer is lying in wait for me in a garage, give it another week to get the money together and I'll be applying for lessons and tests to get on my 400. A faired, faster, heavier, more wind-resistant bike. Oh, yes.
The rain had just about dried off by the time I set out on the deserted roads this morning, and I never noticed much wind either, other than a fresh breeze in my helmet trying to compete with the Boom Boom Satellites in my ears and the rattle of my bike's tail panels. I'm sure some sellotape or blu tac or something would fix that.
Anyway, come the afternoon I've got 20 minutes to get home to catch the Grand Prix, something I know I can do in a car. As soon as I'm up on the dual carriageway, I'm belted in the face and my bikes kicked aside as the wind berates me for dismissing it earlier. Both hands on the bars, this may get a little rough.
Leaning at about 60 degrees in order to go in a straight line isn't as comically funny as it seems, and I'm soon zipping up my jacket further at the first opportunity. The waves starting to hit me in the chest trying to topple me backwards getting more frequent, I snarl at smug bastards nodding to me from their K1200s and Blackbirds as I'm struggling to hit 50mph and stay upright. I probably look like I'm nodding back, I'm being shaken about so much. I suppose this was the 'experience' I was looking for when I thought it'd be a good idea to go out in this weather on a naked 125, rather than being in a comfy car.
Soon though, I'm into nice sheltered 40 and 30 zones, tapping and singing out loud to the music only I can hear. That's probably better done in a car too, when I think about it.
So I get in and discover I've missed the first 7 laps of the grand prix, and it all now feels like a wasted struggle. The answer is lying in wait for me in a garage, give it another week to get the money together and I'll be applying for lessons and tests to get on my 400. A faired, faster, heavier, more wind-resistant bike. Oh, yes.
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fantastic post mate
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