Recently I've had a whole heap of business at work and some other major things to organise. I'll be back updating in August.
Keep it rubber side down.
Monday, 23 July 2007
Monday, 9 July 2007
How to Start an SV...
when it doesn't want to.
The simple answer is that you can't. It'll start when it's good and ready.
If you refer back you'll notice a mention of this problem in the Ride to Cornwall at Soltice Services on the A303, it's happened once or twice more, however due to the great British Summer, I assumed it was just water getting into the ignition/starter switch. On Thursday however, it was dry, and the loud silence once again accompanied the starter button. I left it a while, nothing. Over the space of 4 hours it didn't start once. Eventually I called the recovery company, who unusually sent a guy who knew what a motorbike was, rather than someone in a flatbed truck expecting to see a Ford Fiesta broken at the side of the road.
Naturally the bike was so fearful of this that it decided to fire up first time when he arrived. I reassured him that the bike really wasn't starting earlier, and he seemed to believe me. He found a botched clutch switch override from a previous owner, and we assumed that this was the cause of the issue. Despite the fact that the bike was obviously working, he offered to take me to BAT, for a warranty repair job, and off we went. We had an hour to cover the 13miles, but through London traffic it was touch and go, we arrived right at the last moment and wheeled in. Before even hearing the recovery guys findings they all said "Clutch Switch". So I felt quietly confident that they were right.
Fast forward to Saturday morning and I picked up the bike. I got as far as my parents house trouble free, but it wouldn't start once there. Another frantic phone call to BAT and it was decided to pinch the solenoid from a brand new SV in the showroom, and Spidermonkey would fit it at his house on Sunday morning. The bike behaved for the rest of the weekend, and once the new solenoid was fitted it carried on, so fingers crossed it's solved. The solenoid is a little square box that lives behind the right hand side panel, under the front seat if you ever have this problem and need to fix it, but check your clutch switch first.
Intermittent problems are so hard to pin down, so there's no way BAT could've known about it. If the bike started everytime they tried, they'd never have known there was a problem there; and they've been superb with helping to fix it as soon as possible, so again, all credit to them for working so quickly on the machine!
The simple answer is that you can't. It'll start when it's good and ready.
If you refer back you'll notice a mention of this problem in the Ride to Cornwall at Soltice Services on the A303, it's happened once or twice more, however due to the great British Summer, I assumed it was just water getting into the ignition/starter switch. On Thursday however, it was dry, and the loud silence once again accompanied the starter button. I left it a while, nothing. Over the space of 4 hours it didn't start once. Eventually I called the recovery company, who unusually sent a guy who knew what a motorbike was, rather than someone in a flatbed truck expecting to see a Ford Fiesta broken at the side of the road.
Naturally the bike was so fearful of this that it decided to fire up first time when he arrived. I reassured him that the bike really wasn't starting earlier, and he seemed to believe me. He found a botched clutch switch override from a previous owner, and we assumed that this was the cause of the issue. Despite the fact that the bike was obviously working, he offered to take me to BAT, for a warranty repair job, and off we went. We had an hour to cover the 13miles, but through London traffic it was touch and go, we arrived right at the last moment and wheeled in. Before even hearing the recovery guys findings they all said "Clutch Switch". So I felt quietly confident that they were right.
Fast forward to Saturday morning and I picked up the bike. I got as far as my parents house trouble free, but it wouldn't start once there. Another frantic phone call to BAT and it was decided to pinch the solenoid from a brand new SV in the showroom, and Spidermonkey would fit it at his house on Sunday morning. The bike behaved for the rest of the weekend, and once the new solenoid was fitted it carried on, so fingers crossed it's solved. The solenoid is a little square box that lives behind the right hand side panel, under the front seat if you ever have this problem and need to fix it, but check your clutch switch first.
Intermittent problems are so hard to pin down, so there's no way BAT could've known about it. If the bike started everytime they tried, they'd never have known there was a problem there; and they've been superb with helping to fix it as soon as possible, so again, all credit to them for working so quickly on the machine!
Sunday, 8 July 2007
Karma
I was waiting at a set of red lights on Hayes Lane in South East London when a learner turned left from the lights on the left hand side. Almost immediately another car swung around after him and started beeping and being very aggressive.
Arsehole.
I pulled away from the lights a little quicker than usual, over took the idiot and backed off to about 20mph, ensuring that the learner got some distance, and also that he was forced to stop at the next set of lights, with just enough time left on amber for me to squeeze through.
A little wave over my left shoulder and mission complete.
What a prick.
Arsehole.
I pulled away from the lights a little quicker than usual, over took the idiot and backed off to about 20mph, ensuring that the learner got some distance, and also that he was forced to stop at the next set of lights, with just enough time left on amber for me to squeeze through.
A little wave over my left shoulder and mission complete.
What a prick.
Tuesday, 3 July 2007
The River Effra Rises again
I was running late, I had a doctors appointment at 5:45 and due to starting issues with the bike, I didn't leave until 5:20pm. I was in a hurry. I was taking my usual route South on the A23 towards Brixton when the heavens opened, and it bucketed down. Torrents of water falling from the sky.
As I approached the Junction of Stockwell Road and the A23 a wall of water 18 inches high rushed towards me, and within seconds the water was over the wheelhubs of the bike and sizzling around the bottom of the engine, then I noticed the smell, sewerage. The flash flood had lifted it from the sewers. No way I was hanging around in this, especially not in slow traffic guaranteed feet down at some point. I pulled off on to a side turn and was greeted with a floor as white as snow or spring blossom. I nearly lost the bike. It was hail, half an inch in diameter.
There are some photos here, I wouldn't recommend riding in it. Eventually I found my way home through the back streets of Brixton, and got to the Doctors just 15 minutes late.
It was July, and this was totally unexpected, like the apocalypse had arrived. Sadly I didn't manage to snap any pics myself.
More about the starting issues later.
As I approached the Junction of Stockwell Road and the A23 a wall of water 18 inches high rushed towards me, and within seconds the water was over the wheelhubs of the bike and sizzling around the bottom of the engine, then I noticed the smell, sewerage. The flash flood had lifted it from the sewers. No way I was hanging around in this, especially not in slow traffic guaranteed feet down at some point. I pulled off on to a side turn and was greeted with a floor as white as snow or spring blossom. I nearly lost the bike. It was hail, half an inch in diameter.
There are some photos here, I wouldn't recommend riding in it. Eventually I found my way home through the back streets of Brixton, and got to the Doctors just 15 minutes late.
It was July, and this was totally unexpected, like the apocalypse had arrived. Sadly I didn't manage to snap any pics myself.
More about the starting issues later.
Monday, 2 July 2007
A Quiet Weekend
Not much biking this weekend due to other commitments, hangovers and really, really bad weather. I did manage to get out on Saturday afternoon to Westerham with a banging hangover and a pillion, again the bike handled the pillion well, and he was by far the largest person I've taken; he also remained quite comfy for the 3 hours we were out, so the jury is out on the comfort level. The poor bike was filthy and soaked, and I can really feel the chain needing replacing now, it's lost the smoothness under acceleration.
Unfortunately it'll have to wait until next payday, though I have found the cheapest chains around from Busters Accessories, only £57 for chain and sprocket set, so i'll do that then.
"Each kit comes with front sprocket, rear sprocket and chain. Prices quoted for 520, 525 and 530 kits. Supplied with OE quality DID, Regina, RK or EK chain. "
I'm sure that's good, but I'm not a chain expert. Anyone?
Also I've taken to liberally applying WD-40 as part of the cleaning process around the engine (to make it all pretty and shiny) and to remove chainlube etc from the undertray and swingarm. It's the only stuff I've found that'll get it off, and I can guarantee that it'll be cheaper than specialist products.
If you use aerosol style WD40 do keep it away from the chain, though I'm told the 5litre "non spray" bottles of it are excellent for chain cleaning, the solvent needed in the aerosol style is really bad for chains, but is absent in the bottled stuff. Stick to Paraffin or muck off for that.
Unfortunately it'll have to wait until next payday, though I have found the cheapest chains around from Busters Accessories, only £57 for chain and sprocket set, so i'll do that then.
"Each kit comes with front sprocket, rear sprocket and chain. Prices quoted for 520, 525 and 530 kits. Supplied with OE quality DID, Regina, RK or EK chain. "
I'm sure that's good, but I'm not a chain expert. Anyone?
Also I've taken to liberally applying WD-40 as part of the cleaning process around the engine (to make it all pretty and shiny) and to remove chainlube etc from the undertray and swingarm. It's the only stuff I've found that'll get it off, and I can guarantee that it'll be cheaper than specialist products.
If you use aerosol style WD40 do keep it away from the chain, though I'm told the 5litre "non spray" bottles of it are excellent for chain cleaning, the solvent needed in the aerosol style is really bad for chains, but is absent in the bottled stuff. Stick to Paraffin or muck off for that.
Monday, 25 June 2007
A Soggy Ride.
After having the chain adjusted at FWR in Kennington (Free as promised on the phone, they're lovely, really go buy stuff from them) I pointed the bike Westwards towards Cornwall and opened the throttle. The weather was soggy but nothing major that got through any of my clothing. I negotiated the A4 out to the 316 and eventually onto the M3. My brother had told me how uncomfortable this weekend would be, 600 miles in a day and a half, he always takes the car if he's heading too far now.
This being the first "long" trip on this, and indeed any, bike I had printed out the route for the first leg to Kingsbridge in Devon (despite knowing the way) so I could plan petrol stations and breaks. I figured it would take a while to get out of town so the first one was at Fleet, just 40miles in, then another on the A303 for fuel, followed by another just after Exeter for more petrol.
As I hit the A316, my back started to Spasm, painfully; I thought that was it, turn around and go right home. I persevered and it went away after a few minutes; never to return again. It took just over an hour to get from Southwark to Fleet, pretty much as expected. Pulled up and had a stretch, then got right back on.
It started to drizzle a bit at this point, and this pretty much set the tone for the rest of the ride down. I was impressed with the bike on the M3, and made full use of the fairing, partly because I was tucking in to take the weight off my wrists, and it allowed me to stretch out my back; but also because it kept the worst of the weather off. Although without the airflow through the lower vents on the helmet, my visor and glasses soon began to mist up; though this was easily resolved by peeking over the top every now and again.
By this stage I had settled into the groove, the restricted engine seems to like a steady 6k rpm, which in 6th gear was between 85 and 90mph (indicated), this speed was also perfectly comfortable without too much windblast, even when sat up. I really do like having a screen.
I pulled off onto the A303, my favourite road, ever. It disappointed me this time though, instead of a steady stream of long sweeping curves and great vista it was full of Caravans and traffic heading South West for the weekend, and completely ground to a halt in places. I'd been worried because it's Glastonbury weekend and thought that all the middle class kids would be heading down there to rough it with the hippies, but I saw very little evidence of this. I suppose the moral is don't head South West on a Friday afternoon in the summer.
Pretty soon I decided to get out of this for a moment, and pulled into Solstice services, just past Stonehenge (as you'd probably already worked out). I rolled into the car park and put the stand down with the bike in gear. It cut out, as it's designed to do. However, it wouldn't start again. The starter button didn't do anything, it didn't even turn the engine over, just a loud silence. I checked the electrics, everything else worked, the horn was loud, all lights were fine. I checked the kill switch, I even double checked the immobiliser (having learnt my lesson last time). Still nothing. I began to worry at this stage. I'd had the foresight to bring my breakdown number this time, but really didn't want to have to use it. I began to form the idea that water had worked into the ignition system. A quick phone call to the lovely *spidermonkey* at BAT revealed the same opinion, so I went and bought some WD40 from the petrol station. On a whim I tried firing her up again before using the WD40, spluttered into life first time. I gave it a few squirts in anything that looked like a connection or switch anyway just to be on the safe side. I then rode back over to the petrol station to fill up. This had all taken about 45 minutes by this stage and I was losing time, I had a deadline to arrive in Kingsbridge to meet my Uncle for a drink. So headed off again.
The journey continued much as before, though the slower I was going the more stress it put on my poor wrists, so I was keen to get back up to speed, the 303 denied me this though, and it turned into a procession of vehicles, with the odd opportunity to blast by a few. The rain hadn't let up, though neither had my waterproofs, so the only real problem was vision. The Maxxis Rear Tyre was supreme, once it's up to temperature it'll cope with anything I chose to throw at it, even in the wet.
Another quick splash and dash and I was on the A30, which was much clearer and I made good time to Exeter. I'd decided to avoid the Exeter services, as I don't think I've ever actually passed them, I've always stopped, so I waited for the A38 at Kenwood before my final fuel stop. I was surprised at the economy, I was getting 60 - 70mpg at speed, presumably because it was low revs and constant, rather than the stop start usual to my daily ride in London.
Soon I was on the twisty, high hedged B roads of South Devon for the last 15 miles into Kingsbridge. The sun came out and it was instantly how riding was meant to be. Fun, fast, grippy and exhilarating.
I arrived just before 7, a total of five and a half hours after setting out, not great time for 213 miles on fast roads. No real discomfort despite the heavy backpack and hunched up position, I did need to stretch the knee out quite often, much to the probable bemusement of other motorists as a bike passed them with the rider apparently cocking his leg.
The next morning saw me up at 6 and ready to head off further west, first to Saltash, then on to Liskeard. Again, awesome fun between Kingsbridge and the A38, then onto the fast flowing Devon Expressway all the way to Plymouth and the Tamar Bridge. I wish I could have stopped and had a closer look at Brunell's railway bridge alongside, but I had a meeting with the Mayor of Saltash at 9, and I wasn't going to be late. Saltash is immediately the otherside of the river to Plymouth and I was soon parked up at my destination.
An hour or so later and it was raining. Hard. I pulled the gear back on, heart a bit heavy. I knew that however wet I got now was likely to last all the way until I got back to London in the evening. As I hit the A38 again for the short hop to Liskeard it became torrential, rivers running across the road and my right Frank Thomas Aquasprint (guaranteed bone dry) full of water. The left one was ok though, i'll change them. It got so bad that I couldn't see anything, I had no choice but to pull over, but with no shelter for miles around it just made me wetter. At least I wasn't riding blind anymore. A brief respite in the deluge and I was back on the bike, desperate to cover the last three miles before it started again.
Upon arrival I was drenched, but not inside the gear too much. I can't praise Richa Monsoon trousers enough, even my cheap Spada jacket held up, and only let in a little water through the zip. My wallet in the pocket was not so fortunate though, and everything had to hit the radiators for a while. I was very disappointed with the boots though. The right one must be faulty, as the left held up fine. My crap summer gloves are still wet.
I spent a few hours in Liskeard before heading back down the A38 towards Kingsbridge. It rained solidly, again until the turn off for Kingsbridge, which has it's own weather. It's on a peninsula hanging off the bottom of Devon so is often missed by the main weather systems and bright and sunny when all else is drenched.
When I got to my uncle's couldn't face riding straight off, so I mooched for an hour or so before heading off at Quarter to Six.
When I left it was glorious sunshine and I stopped at a place called California Cross for a fill up. I then hit the road, determined not to pull over until the bike was in need of more fuel.
This riding was great, the roads were dry and riding towards London on a Saturday afternoon is a much better idea than heading South West on a Friday afternoon, there was barely any other traffic.
As the bike went further and further on the one tank I whooped inside the helmet - at the first sign with London less than 100 miles away; as I passed Stonehenge, all little milestones that the bike just ate up, frugally sipping at it's go go juice.
2 hours later and I was nearing the M3. I'd averaged 70mph, including the 20 minutes of slow twisty roads to get out of Kingsbridge and the villages along the A303. The fuel light still hadn't come on. I'd done 145miles on the tank and began to worry that the light wasn't working. I was also desperate for a pee and a stretch after two solid hours in the saddle. When I filled up, the bike only took 12 litres to full, I had enough for at least another 40 miles. My bladder had let me down before the petrol ran out. I'd managed 65mpg, running on magic seemingly, from hard and fast riding, and home was only 70 miles away now. I was looking at the possibility of being home within 4 hours of setting off. I'd not ached during this whole part of the trip, bar the knee which is a special case and always aches. I seemed to lose the groove on the second part, and the aches set in, a niggle here, an ouchie there; nothing serious though.
It started to rain when I hit the M3, but as before, just some light drizzle, before I knew it I was on the M25. Riding along in puzzlement as each of the flashing overheard signs lit up to display "Animals in Road -Slow", all the way from Junction 13 to Junction 6. I didn't see a herd of wild Boars or even a horse, so I guess they were faulty. I was soon on the also-traffic-free A25 heading to Westerham, Biggin Hill and home. It had only taken me three and three quarter hours to cover the 220 miles.
The bike was filthy, the exhaust encrusted in a layer of grime so thick that you could see it around the end of the pipe; and the rear tyre was squared off from 600 miles of hard riding. I just couldn't be bothered to wash it though. I was sore and tired; I resolved to find a jet wash in the morning and treat it to a full rub down and spa treatment.
I've covered 1200 miles in 2 weeks since buying the bike. I might have to back off some so I don't have to fork out for new tyres every month. The Chain and Sprockets already need doing! My brothers warning about the discomfort was unfounded. The SV didn't give me sore buttocks or anything making me wish I as somewhere else the whole weekend, his TT must have seat made of steel. I'd rather have been on the bike, though maybe in the dry.
This being the first "long" trip on this, and indeed any, bike I had printed out the route for the first leg to Kingsbridge in Devon (despite knowing the way) so I could plan petrol stations and breaks. I figured it would take a while to get out of town so the first one was at Fleet, just 40miles in, then another on the A303 for fuel, followed by another just after Exeter for more petrol.
As I hit the A316, my back started to Spasm, painfully; I thought that was it, turn around and go right home. I persevered and it went away after a few minutes; never to return again. It took just over an hour to get from Southwark to Fleet, pretty much as expected. Pulled up and had a stretch, then got right back on.
It started to drizzle a bit at this point, and this pretty much set the tone for the rest of the ride down. I was impressed with the bike on the M3, and made full use of the fairing, partly because I was tucking in to take the weight off my wrists, and it allowed me to stretch out my back; but also because it kept the worst of the weather off. Although without the airflow through the lower vents on the helmet, my visor and glasses soon began to mist up; though this was easily resolved by peeking over the top every now and again.
By this stage I had settled into the groove, the restricted engine seems to like a steady 6k rpm, which in 6th gear was between 85 and 90mph (indicated), this speed was also perfectly comfortable without too much windblast, even when sat up. I really do like having a screen.
I pulled off onto the A303, my favourite road, ever. It disappointed me this time though, instead of a steady stream of long sweeping curves and great vista it was full of Caravans and traffic heading South West for the weekend, and completely ground to a halt in places. I'd been worried because it's Glastonbury weekend and thought that all the middle class kids would be heading down there to rough it with the hippies, but I saw very little evidence of this. I suppose the moral is don't head South West on a Friday afternoon in the summer.
Pretty soon I decided to get out of this for a moment, and pulled into Solstice services, just past Stonehenge (as you'd probably already worked out). I rolled into the car park and put the stand down with the bike in gear. It cut out, as it's designed to do. However, it wouldn't start again. The starter button didn't do anything, it didn't even turn the engine over, just a loud silence. I checked the electrics, everything else worked, the horn was loud, all lights were fine. I checked the kill switch, I even double checked the immobiliser (having learnt my lesson last time). Still nothing. I began to worry at this stage. I'd had the foresight to bring my breakdown number this time, but really didn't want to have to use it. I began to form the idea that water had worked into the ignition system. A quick phone call to the lovely *spidermonkey* at BAT revealed the same opinion, so I went and bought some WD40 from the petrol station. On a whim I tried firing her up again before using the WD40, spluttered into life first time. I gave it a few squirts in anything that looked like a connection or switch anyway just to be on the safe side. I then rode back over to the petrol station to fill up. This had all taken about 45 minutes by this stage and I was losing time, I had a deadline to arrive in Kingsbridge to meet my Uncle for a drink. So headed off again.
The journey continued much as before, though the slower I was going the more stress it put on my poor wrists, so I was keen to get back up to speed, the 303 denied me this though, and it turned into a procession of vehicles, with the odd opportunity to blast by a few. The rain hadn't let up, though neither had my waterproofs, so the only real problem was vision. The Maxxis Rear Tyre was supreme, once it's up to temperature it'll cope with anything I chose to throw at it, even in the wet.
Another quick splash and dash and I was on the A30, which was much clearer and I made good time to Exeter. I'd decided to avoid the Exeter services, as I don't think I've ever actually passed them, I've always stopped, so I waited for the A38 at Kenwood before my final fuel stop. I was surprised at the economy, I was getting 60 - 70mpg at speed, presumably because it was low revs and constant, rather than the stop start usual to my daily ride in London.
Soon I was on the twisty, high hedged B roads of South Devon for the last 15 miles into Kingsbridge. The sun came out and it was instantly how riding was meant to be. Fun, fast, grippy and exhilarating.
I arrived just before 7, a total of five and a half hours after setting out, not great time for 213 miles on fast roads. No real discomfort despite the heavy backpack and hunched up position, I did need to stretch the knee out quite often, much to the probable bemusement of other motorists as a bike passed them with the rider apparently cocking his leg.
The next morning saw me up at 6 and ready to head off further west, first to Saltash, then on to Liskeard. Again, awesome fun between Kingsbridge and the A38, then onto the fast flowing Devon Expressway all the way to Plymouth and the Tamar Bridge. I wish I could have stopped and had a closer look at Brunell's railway bridge alongside, but I had a meeting with the Mayor of Saltash at 9, and I wasn't going to be late. Saltash is immediately the otherside of the river to Plymouth and I was soon parked up at my destination.
An hour or so later and it was raining. Hard. I pulled the gear back on, heart a bit heavy. I knew that however wet I got now was likely to last all the way until I got back to London in the evening. As I hit the A38 again for the short hop to Liskeard it became torrential, rivers running across the road and my right Frank Thomas Aquasprint (guaranteed bone dry) full of water. The left one was ok though, i'll change them. It got so bad that I couldn't see anything, I had no choice but to pull over, but with no shelter for miles around it just made me wetter. At least I wasn't riding blind anymore. A brief respite in the deluge and I was back on the bike, desperate to cover the last three miles before it started again.
Upon arrival I was drenched, but not inside the gear too much. I can't praise Richa Monsoon trousers enough, even my cheap Spada jacket held up, and only let in a little water through the zip. My wallet in the pocket was not so fortunate though, and everything had to hit the radiators for a while. I was very disappointed with the boots though. The right one must be faulty, as the left held up fine. My crap summer gloves are still wet.
I spent a few hours in Liskeard before heading back down the A38 towards Kingsbridge. It rained solidly, again until the turn off for Kingsbridge, which has it's own weather. It's on a peninsula hanging off the bottom of Devon so is often missed by the main weather systems and bright and sunny when all else is drenched.
When I got to my uncle's couldn't face riding straight off, so I mooched for an hour or so before heading off at Quarter to Six.
When I left it was glorious sunshine and I stopped at a place called California Cross for a fill up. I then hit the road, determined not to pull over until the bike was in need of more fuel.
This riding was great, the roads were dry and riding towards London on a Saturday afternoon is a much better idea than heading South West on a Friday afternoon, there was barely any other traffic.
As the bike went further and further on the one tank I whooped inside the helmet - at the first sign with London less than 100 miles away; as I passed Stonehenge, all little milestones that the bike just ate up, frugally sipping at it's go go juice.
2 hours later and I was nearing the M3. I'd averaged 70mph, including the 20 minutes of slow twisty roads to get out of Kingsbridge and the villages along the A303. The fuel light still hadn't come on. I'd done 145miles on the tank and began to worry that the light wasn't working. I was also desperate for a pee and a stretch after two solid hours in the saddle. When I filled up, the bike only took 12 litres to full, I had enough for at least another 40 miles. My bladder had let me down before the petrol ran out. I'd managed 65mpg, running on magic seemingly, from hard and fast riding, and home was only 70 miles away now. I was looking at the possibility of being home within 4 hours of setting off. I'd not ached during this whole part of the trip, bar the knee which is a special case and always aches. I seemed to lose the groove on the second part, and the aches set in, a niggle here, an ouchie there; nothing serious though.
It started to rain when I hit the M3, but as before, just some light drizzle, before I knew it I was on the M25. Riding along in puzzlement as each of the flashing overheard signs lit up to display "Animals in Road -Slow", all the way from Junction 13 to Junction 6. I didn't see a herd of wild Boars or even a horse, so I guess they were faulty. I was soon on the also-traffic-free A25 heading to Westerham, Biggin Hill and home. It had only taken me three and three quarter hours to cover the 220 miles.
The bike was filthy, the exhaust encrusted in a layer of grime so thick that you could see it around the end of the pipe; and the rear tyre was squared off from 600 miles of hard riding. I just couldn't be bothered to wash it though. I was sore and tired; I resolved to find a jet wash in the morning and treat it to a full rub down and spa treatment.
I've covered 1200 miles in 2 weeks since buying the bike. I might have to back off some so I don't have to fork out for new tyres every month. The Chain and Sprockets already need doing! My brothers warning about the discomfort was unfounded. The SV didn't give me sore buttocks or anything making me wish I as somewhere else the whole weekend, his TT must have seat made of steel. I'd rather have been on the bike, though maybe in the dry.
Friday, 22 June 2007
Riding to Cornwall
I leave in an hour. I think I'm going to get very, very wet. Four and a half hours of Thunderstormy Goodness.
I'll be sure to let you all know how it goes.
In other news...
Big Praise for FWR in Kennington. I realised my chain needed adjusting last night when *spidermonkey* told me after we put my new plate on, and thought I'd best get that sorted before heading to Cornwall. I phoned them and they said pop in at 1pm and they'll do it for free.
They're lovely, go and buy stuff from them.
I'll be sure to let you all know how it goes.
In other news...
Big Praise for FWR in Kennington. I realised my chain needed adjusting last night when *spidermonkey* told me after we put my new plate on, and thought I'd best get that sorted before heading to Cornwall. I phoned them and they said pop in at 1pm and they'll do it for free.
They're lovely, go and buy stuff from them.
Tuesday, 19 June 2007
A Plan for Summer 2008
I'm not participating in the usual summer event next year, that's kept me busy since I was 16; and a recent visit to friends in Germany revealed the answer to my "what to do next summer" dilema. My friend (who has requested I call him Baaastard for old times sake) and I hatched a cunning plan. Both keen to try motorcycle touring, both with the cash to burn and the desire to go. One based in Leipzig, one based in London. Him on a Honda Revere (or NTV, or Bros depending on where you live)
We rallied ideas between us, such as a round trip of Europe, with me riding to meet him in Leipzig, then heading off. This was scrubbed when we decided that for the first one we'd want to go somewhere where we could both speak the language and know that a petrol station would always be just around the corner in case anything went wrong.
A plan was born, and we named it the lap.
We decided to do a 2200 mile lap of Britain over ten days. An afternoon was swiftly consumed whilst we poured over maps, distances, timings, Youth hostel and camping websites, kit lists and budgets. It was seemingly all organised already. Perfect Planning Avoids Piss Poor Performance, or something.
See the attached map for a rough guide of where we're heading, it's not accurate as I knocked it up in "paint" in about 10 mins, but it's good as a rough guide.
The Plan
August 13 – 22, 2008
day 1 13th August: London to Kinross
To give Baaastard a chance to catch up with a few friends over here before we leave, we'll be leaving from South London, early in the day so we can cover the 440 miles before nightfall. This is a very long day, and we're torn between camping for cheapness, or hostelling, for cleanliness. We're guessing it'll take
day 2 14th August: John O’Groats
This is going to be one of my highlights, as a Brit, hitting the top of the country. It's 260 miles from Kinross, and nice Twisty A and B roads all the way, we reckon 6 hours. Camping if it kills us.
day 3 15th: Fort William
day 4 16th :
day 5 17th:
Our shortest day yet, just over 4 hours and 160 miles to Snowdon in Wales, unmissable and definite camping.
day 6 18th: via
day 7 19th: Lands End via
day 8 20th:Kingsbridge, Devon
day 9 21st: Beaulieu via Dorset
We're drawing to a close now, this will feel like the home leg. Along the South Coast from Devon to Beaulieu in the New Forest. Dear to my heart as an old haunt when I was at Uni in Southampton. We'll get a chance to visit the Motor Museum and Camp in some of the prettiest scenery in the UK. We'll try not to run over any wild ponies. This leg's about 150miles, maybe 3 and a half hours.
day 10 22nd: South London. Home.
Baaastard will have a few extra days riding time, he's giving himself 2 days to travel each way between Leipzig and London. That's as far as we've got. If anyone has experience of those routes, tips for the journey, must see's, luggage ideas, must miss places or any comments we'd be glad to hear them. It's 13 months away and already I'm too excited
Monday, 18 June 2007
South on the '23
Sunday morning greeted me with glorious sunshine and a plan. I was going to fight through my hangover and ride to Burgess Hill to visit an old school friend, JW, at her house. Having not seen her for a few years I was a little nervous, understandably.
I left home at about 10:30 and took the South Circular around to the start of the A23, pointed the bike south and basked in the the weather.
The journey was about a 90 mile round trip, and the first 10 miles passed in minutes, over the dreaded Purley Way flyover with barely another car on the road. As I passed Croydon airport that all changed, the traffic was solid, not merely moving slowly, but not moving at all. I filtered past seemingly endless miles of this until I got to the front of the hold up at Russell Hill. There was a police car blocking the road. I asked the officer how long would be shut for, and why it was shut and just as I was getting the usual non-commital answer I heard his radio chirp into life, the road was being reopened. I jumped back on to the SV, hit the starter and. Nothing. It was cranking over but not catching. I turned the lights and other electrics off and tried again. Still nothing. The PC stopped the traffic for me to push to the side of the road, where I stood baffled. A new battery went into it a week before, it was certainly warmed up. What was going on? I grabbed my mobile phone and began to think of options. I didn't have the breakdown service's number, it was at home, but FlatMate was away for the weekend. Scrub option one. I could call directory enquiries, but they never have the right number. Scrub option two. I could phone a friend with the internet and ask them to look. Viable, but it was early on a Sunday morning. Scrub option three. Then it hit me.
The fucking immobiliser.
Oh yes, it self arms after 20 seconds. I wasted 10 minutes because I forgot about it. Fires up first time and I sheepishly continue my journey, cursing myself obscenely.
It's glorious now, the tyres are gripping, the bike's on form, the sun is blazing and before long I'm at the start of the M23, the short motorway, seemingly built just to go round Gatwick Airport. I work up through the gears and sit the bike at a nice steady 85mph or so. It likes this territory on the speedo, a bit more pull if needed, not too windy and some good comfort. I pull over at Pease Pottage services to strap the tankbag strap around the headstock, just in case, as I'm still a little paranoid that it'll fly off the bike at speed taking my mobile, my wallet, my life with it.
All too soon is was pulling off onto the Burgess Hill road and arrived at my friend's a short distance from the motorway.
I stayed for a few hours, had a fantastic time catching up with the last few year, had a delightful lunch in a village pub and reminisced over some old photos, until it got late in the day and I had to bid a very fond farewell.
On the way back I decided to avoid the nightmare of the A23 and took the M23 up to the M25, then followed it one junction to the A22 at Junction 6, a quiet little road that takes me most of the way home, up to Purley, through South Croydon up to Shirley, then Elmer's End and up the hill to Crystal Palace, down Gipsy Hill admiring the simply stunning view of London it offers; and home.
The bike was looking pretty grubby after yesterday's rain session so she got the works, wash, scrub and a rub down till she was gleaming like new again. I really need to invest in a paddock stand soon, the chain is in need of a scrub and relube, after 600 miles it really should be done soon. I'll pop it on the wish list.
I left home at about 10:30 and took the South Circular around to the start of the A23, pointed the bike south and basked in the the weather.
The journey was about a 90 mile round trip, and the first 10 miles passed in minutes, over the dreaded Purley Way flyover with barely another car on the road. As I passed Croydon airport that all changed, the traffic was solid, not merely moving slowly, but not moving at all. I filtered past seemingly endless miles of this until I got to the front of the hold up at Russell Hill. There was a police car blocking the road. I asked the officer how long would be shut for, and why it was shut and just as I was getting the usual non-commital answer I heard his radio chirp into life, the road was being reopened. I jumped back on to the SV, hit the starter and. Nothing. It was cranking over but not catching. I turned the lights and other electrics off and tried again. Still nothing. The PC stopped the traffic for me to push to the side of the road, where I stood baffled. A new battery went into it a week before, it was certainly warmed up. What was going on? I grabbed my mobile phone and began to think of options. I didn't have the breakdown service's number, it was at home, but FlatMate was away for the weekend. Scrub option one. I could call directory enquiries, but they never have the right number. Scrub option two. I could phone a friend with the internet and ask them to look. Viable, but it was early on a Sunday morning. Scrub option three. Then it hit me.
The fucking immobiliser.
Oh yes, it self arms after 20 seconds. I wasted 10 minutes because I forgot about it. Fires up first time and I sheepishly continue my journey, cursing myself obscenely.
It's glorious now, the tyres are gripping, the bike's on form, the sun is blazing and before long I'm at the start of the M23, the short motorway, seemingly built just to go round Gatwick Airport. I work up through the gears and sit the bike at a nice steady 85mph or so. It likes this territory on the speedo, a bit more pull if needed, not too windy and some good comfort. I pull over at Pease Pottage services to strap the tankbag strap around the headstock, just in case, as I'm still a little paranoid that it'll fly off the bike at speed taking my mobile, my wallet, my life with it.
All too soon is was pulling off onto the Burgess Hill road and arrived at my friend's a short distance from the motorway.
I stayed for a few hours, had a fantastic time catching up with the last few year, had a delightful lunch in a village pub and reminisced over some old photos, until it got late in the day and I had to bid a very fond farewell.
On the way back I decided to avoid the nightmare of the A23 and took the M23 up to the M25, then followed it one junction to the A22 at Junction 6, a quiet little road that takes me most of the way home, up to Purley, through South Croydon up to Shirley, then Elmer's End and up the hill to Crystal Palace, down Gipsy Hill admiring the simply stunning view of London it offers; and home.
The bike was looking pretty grubby after yesterday's rain session so she got the works, wash, scrub and a rub down till she was gleaming like new again. I really need to invest in a paddock stand soon, the chain is in need of a scrub and relube, after 600 miles it really should be done soon. I'll pop it on the wish list.
Sunday, 17 June 2007
A Wet Ride and Some bad driving
Friday night saw me gearing up to leave work and head off to High Halstow, a tiny village in the Isle of Grain in Kent. I already knew the route from driving before, but this was the first time on a bike.
From my office it's the A2 all the way, from Elephant and Castle to the start of the M2 when you pull off towards Strood and take the smaller roads. Things started well enough, and I was experimenting with a tank bag, borrowed from my brother, ahead of the Cornwall Ride next weekend. I'm not sure what happened to me, I was filtering well enough, and lane splitting where necessary, but at one set of lights in New Cross I decided that a Scooter had left enough of a gap for me to squeeze past between him and a car. Not quite and my brake lever clipped his top box. I apologised profusely, and he was fine with it, but what was making me ride so stupidly. I tried to avoid going "On Tilt" for the rest of the journey, and took it easy. Up over Blackheath, past the excellent Tea Hut, and down onto the A2 proper, the three lane A road. I accelerated up to around 70 on the slip road only to spot the dreaded yellow of the gatso on my right hand side. I slammed the anchors on and bled a lot of speed instantly, but still exceeding the 50 limit when I passed it. I only hope that it doesn't monitor the slip road and concentrates on the A2 itself.
The A2 is a dull road, especially at evening rush hour when it is so slow moving and covered in Speed Cameras. I progressed steadily on my way east, to the point when the road becomes "National Speed Limit". That's 70 on roads of more than one lane. Almost immediately it became a car park. Mile after mile of roadworks. I managed to make a lot of progress lane splitting, and following the lead of a Yellow Speed Triple that hooned past me.
Not soon enough I saw the start of the M2 and my exit off to Grain and Strood and the last 10 miles or so passed in blissful exhaust noise and limited traffic.
Saturday
I left my friend's house shortly after lunchtime, trying to beat the wet weather. The words of my hostess ringing in my ears. "I'll laugh if it starts raining as you leave the driveway". It did. Nothing major at first, just some very light mist; which all but cleared up by the time I got onto the faster roads.
Quick check on the mileage, I'm showing 110 since last fill up, easy for the 30 miles home, maybe with change to spare for tomorrow. 10 miles later the light comes on, as I pull onto the M25, and the heavens open. A further 15 miles and the light goes constant. Arse. Where's the 40miles I had in reserve last time gone? This is bad, I know the range is 15 miles on a good day with the constant light, but I've just used what should have covered 40 miles in 15, and there were still 5miles to my junction (the next junction) and a drink for the bike. At this stage the rain was actually painful, hitting my jacket with such ferocity that each one felt like a pin prick. It wasn't turning out to be the best day. I kept the gears high and the speed low, and slowed to 60 on the inside lane, thankful for the bit of weather protection the lorries in front gave me.
Junction 4 finally came around and I coaxed the SV up the slip road and onto the A21, could I make the petrol station at Pratts Bottom, just 2 miles away now.
I coughed it's last at the entrance to the petrol station and I pushed it to the pumps. Lesson learned. Never take anything for granted. Fill her up when you get the chance.
I stopped of at my parents for a cup of tea and a chance to get out of the rain, as they're on my way home from the M25, and sat out the rest of the weather before heading home in glorious sunshine.
From my office it's the A2 all the way, from Elephant and Castle to the start of the M2 when you pull off towards Strood and take the smaller roads. Things started well enough, and I was experimenting with a tank bag, borrowed from my brother, ahead of the Cornwall Ride next weekend. I'm not sure what happened to me, I was filtering well enough, and lane splitting where necessary, but at one set of lights in New Cross I decided that a Scooter had left enough of a gap for me to squeeze past between him and a car. Not quite and my brake lever clipped his top box. I apologised profusely, and he was fine with it, but what was making me ride so stupidly. I tried to avoid going "On Tilt" for the rest of the journey, and took it easy. Up over Blackheath, past the excellent Tea Hut, and down onto the A2 proper, the three lane A road. I accelerated up to around 70 on the slip road only to spot the dreaded yellow of the gatso on my right hand side. I slammed the anchors on and bled a lot of speed instantly, but still exceeding the 50 limit when I passed it. I only hope that it doesn't monitor the slip road and concentrates on the A2 itself.
The A2 is a dull road, especially at evening rush hour when it is so slow moving and covered in Speed Cameras. I progressed steadily on my way east, to the point when the road becomes "National Speed Limit". That's 70 on roads of more than one lane. Almost immediately it became a car park. Mile after mile of roadworks. I managed to make a lot of progress lane splitting, and following the lead of a Yellow Speed Triple that hooned past me.
Not soon enough I saw the start of the M2 and my exit off to Grain and Strood and the last 10 miles or so passed in blissful exhaust noise and limited traffic.
Saturday
I left my friend's house shortly after lunchtime, trying to beat the wet weather. The words of my hostess ringing in my ears. "I'll laugh if it starts raining as you leave the driveway". It did. Nothing major at first, just some very light mist; which all but cleared up by the time I got onto the faster roads.
Quick check on the mileage, I'm showing 110 since last fill up, easy for the 30 miles home, maybe with change to spare for tomorrow. 10 miles later the light comes on, as I pull onto the M25, and the heavens open. A further 15 miles and the light goes constant. Arse. Where's the 40miles I had in reserve last time gone? This is bad, I know the range is 15 miles on a good day with the constant light, but I've just used what should have covered 40 miles in 15, and there were still 5miles to my junction (the next junction) and a drink for the bike. At this stage the rain was actually painful, hitting my jacket with such ferocity that each one felt like a pin prick. It wasn't turning out to be the best day. I kept the gears high and the speed low, and slowed to 60 on the inside lane, thankful for the bit of weather protection the lorries in front gave me.
Junction 4 finally came around and I coaxed the SV up the slip road and onto the A21, could I make the petrol station at Pratts Bottom, just 2 miles away now.
I coughed it's last at the entrance to the petrol station and I pushed it to the pumps. Lesson learned. Never take anything for granted. Fill her up when you get the chance.
I stopped of at my parents for a cup of tea and a chance to get out of the rain, as they're on my way home from the M25, and sat out the rest of the weather before heading home in glorious sunshine.
Friday, 15 June 2007
The Wish list
I've had the SV 6 days now and already i'm looking at upgrades.
A new end can: most of these seem to require the exhaust to be chopped before they're installed, which is something I'm always wary of. The contenders are currently;
Scorpion
Scorpion have a great range of products, and the one I've got my eye on most is the Oval, though the street extreme or Carbon Fibre models have a certain appeal.
Akrapovic
Akrapovic have a limited supply for the SV, and sell whole systems only. They sound amazing though.
Carbon Can Company
CCC are sold mainly through ebay at the moment, though they are a lot cheaper than the competition. Well worth considering. A friend has just fitted one and i'm waiting for a little tester.
Blue Flame
I just love the double breathing Oval or the Evo 3. Pricey though, but worth it.
The desicion on these is going to be based on budget at the time over anything else sadly, but anything I get will undoubtedly be upgraded over time.
A new Screen: There's a multitude of screen maunfactures out there, but the name I hear again and again is Fabbri. It's going to be a double bubble, but do I go for Clear, dark, iridium, blue? (Ok, no one would have blue unless they were a bit simple)
Heated Grips: Ok, so I'm a pussy. Again, the word on the street is all for one brand. Oxford. Used them on a friends borrowed CBF, toasty warm.
New Lid: This is already on it's way. I've gone for the Caberg Justissimo frontal opening, sun visor, affordable and above all else, comfortable. Matt Black is the only colour a lid should be.
New Boots: Again, already on their way. Frank Thomas Aqua Sprint. Unbeatable comfort and waterproofness. No fiddly zips either for us fat fingered types.
New Gloves: No idea about theses yet. I have some cheap, clunky summer gloves at present, which I wore throughout winter, but the lining is beginning to fail so further investment required. Happy to take some glove advice.
Luggage: I'm in the market for a Tank Bag and Tail pack. J&S do a lot of good luggage deals, but nothing beats a hands on review from someone using them.
That's probably it for the moment, but there'll be more. There's always more.
A new end can: most of these seem to require the exhaust to be chopped before they're installed, which is something I'm always wary of. The contenders are currently;
Scorpion
Scorpion have a great range of products, and the one I've got my eye on most is the Oval, though the street extreme or Carbon Fibre models have a certain appeal.
Akrapovic
Akrapovic have a limited supply for the SV, and sell whole systems only. They sound amazing though.
Carbon Can Company
CCC are sold mainly through ebay at the moment, though they are a lot cheaper than the competition. Well worth considering. A friend has just fitted one and i'm waiting for a little tester.
Blue Flame
I just love the double breathing Oval or the Evo 3. Pricey though, but worth it.
The desicion on these is going to be based on budget at the time over anything else sadly, but anything I get will undoubtedly be upgraded over time.
A new Screen: There's a multitude of screen maunfactures out there, but the name I hear again and again is Fabbri. It's going to be a double bubble, but do I go for Clear, dark, iridium, blue? (Ok, no one would have blue unless they were a bit simple)
Heated Grips: Ok, so I'm a pussy. Again, the word on the street is all for one brand. Oxford. Used them on a friends borrowed CBF, toasty warm.
New Lid: This is already on it's way. I've gone for the Caberg Justissimo frontal opening, sun visor, affordable and above all else, comfortable. Matt Black is the only colour a lid should be.
New Boots: Again, already on their way. Frank Thomas Aqua Sprint. Unbeatable comfort and waterproofness. No fiddly zips either for us fat fingered types.
New Gloves: No idea about theses yet. I have some cheap, clunky summer gloves at present, which I wore throughout winter, but the lining is beginning to fail so further investment required. Happy to take some glove advice.
Luggage: I'm in the market for a Tank Bag and Tail pack. J&S do a lot of good luggage deals, but nothing beats a hands on review from someone using them.
That's probably it for the moment, but there'll be more. There's always more.
A new Bike
After DJing 'till 2am in Vauxhall before riding out to my parents in Kent I wasn't as fresh as I might have been when I pitched up at BAT Motorcycles in Biggin Hill at 9am on Saturday morning, Lump of Cash in my sweaty Richa Monsoon trouser pocket and excitement about the weekend ahead. After almost 3 weeks of waiting the finance had turned up and I was collecting my new Pride and Joy, the 1999 Candy Blue Curvy SV650s. It's a great bike and has loads of "love" already installed. Fender Extender, Hugger, Undertray and Tail tidy. Along with that BAT did a full service, replaced the rear tyre and the battery and gave me an extra 12 months warranty. A real beaut.
I handed over the cash, grabbed the keys and pointed it out towards the Weald of Kent for a test ride. Immediately I was worried, why wouldn't the indicators cancel? I was pressing the button but nothing. It slowly dawned on me that unlike my SRX (God Rest it's soul) the indicator lights are green on the SV dash, and I was in fact looking at a plea from the bike for some Go Go juice, that could wait until the light went solid. I was busy.
The test route took me through Biggin Hill, down Westerham hill and through Westerham itself. It's got a bit of everything, Twisties, hills, long fast National Speed limit bits, town bits. I thought it would do the business, about 10 miles in all, every one of them perfect. Someone before me seems to have upweighted the fork oil, the rear preload is just right, the seat is comfy, the bars aren't too much of a stretch, side stand's easy to find with a boot when you're not looking. All Perfect, everything I wanted from my dream bike, the bike I saw one day, not so long ago, that prompted me to take my test.
I got back to BAT, breathless wanted to sign the paperwork, fill her up and go for a blat, first things first though, I needed to get to a Post Office before 12 to tax the beast. 11:40am saw me at the post office, docs in hand. I get to the counter, hand over my docs with the cheapskate line "6 months please"...
"Your MOT is out of date"
"eh?"
"Look here it expired in January".
"ah, cock."
I arrived back at BAT, ignoring the advice about running the tyre in for 60 miles before hooning it and the bike was straight into the MOT area. 40 minutes later I have my certificate, but the Post Offices are now shut. I was now an illegal, but no chance was something like that going to stop me, I had all the certificates and new owner slips, I could blag my way out of not having a tax disc, the time on the MOT showed it would have been impossible for me to get one on Saturday.
I bimbled around the mother land dropping on old friends for a while before deciding that it was time to have a bit of fun. Picked up my flatmate and headed straight for the M25 towards Sevenoaks, took the A25 west wards and eventually arrived in the Village of Chipstead, narrow roads, houses right on it, perfect for the echo of the exhaust. I started heading for home, and quickly realised just how shite riding through London is, I stopped of in Crystal Palace park for a Ciggie, despite the fact that it's less than a mile from home. Stuck in traffic, sweat pouring off me and my recently rebuilt and metal worked knee complaining that 2 and a bit months probably wasn't long enough after surgery to sit in one position for so long, I just had to stop. I sat on the grass behind the bike, and just admired it, even the hot bike smell was right. I knew I'd made the right choice. I finished my ciggie and rode the rest of the way home. Only breakage so far, one number plate, shattered when I hit a comedy sized pot hole and the back wheel shattered it, now held together with sellotape until I get a new one.
Sunday morning, 8am and I'm pulling on the gear again. I'm meeting a friend as his GS1100 for a bit of a run. My flatmate's also coming along, we both kit up and hop on, heading for Chelsfield Lakes Golf Course car park at Junction 4 of the M25 for meet *SpiderMonkey* and his Big BMW GS.
2 up the bike is great, doesn't wallow a great deal, a minor mirror adjustment and it's perfect, though apparently it's not particularly comfy on the back, and flatmate had soon sat herself on the armchair like Pillion seat on the Big beemer, which was great for me as it meant I could continue getting a feel for the machine. We headed for Rye, the long way and stopped for some dirty burgers at the cafe there. Back on our steeds we made out way around to Camber, Lydd, Dungeoness, Dymchurch and Hythe stopping at each for a look about or an ice cream, before picking up the A20 and heading for home. Hit a patch of diesel just as we were joining the M20, fortunately kept it upright, but a reminder of how easy it is to screw up.
We pulled in at the Oakdene Cafe, the legendary biker haunt for a debrief. The bike runs fantastically, it's stable as a mountain, the acceleration is there, despite the restriction and it's at 60mph in 4.5 seconds, a 650cc Porsche beater. It tops out at 90, but frankly that's enough for the moment and runs out of puff at 7500rpm. 150 miles and the fuel light still hadn't come on, it eventually came on at 160miles and I'm going to run it till the light goes solid indicating 1.5 litres left (~13-15 miles) before filling her up so I can get an idea of the economy.
Got home and washed her, then tucked her into her cover gleaming for the evening.
300 miles and the right bike. It's Friday now and i'm itching for another weekend in the saddle. I'll keep you posted.
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