18-04-2000, 09:35 PM
An intelligent and amuzing member of our excellent site claimed this forum was the most interesting of the lot. I'm not sure I can believe that - the action isn' that great, but anyway - here's something more to bore you silly with ;)
I thought I would let you in on my own two-wheel background, although not requested by any of you. And remember - you don't have to read it :D
It all started when I was two years old and for the first time realised what a bike was - sort of. Shortly after, my mom gave be a tin racing bike with sidehack and wind-up engine. The poor thing didn't last very long, but I can still to this day remember how it looked like. Ever since, motorcycles have been the most important part of my life.
Throughout my upbringing, I tried to get close to as many bikes as possible. Not easy living out on the country, but I was lucky enough to have a neighbour who raced Speedway and had several street bikes as well. I always took myself seriously and was afraid to make an arse of meself in public, so I waited almost until I was a legal 16 yrs old before making my first attempt. That was on a Norwegian made Tempo moped with Sachs engine and a gearbox with 3 neutrals for every gear. It also had two nicely flat tyres, making the 200 dash rather interesting. Was to the spectators as well, witnessed by them all rolling around on the wet tarmac laughing themselves silly on my behalf. Bastards!
On my 15th birthday, I was given what appeared to be a half-pornographic magaine by my parents. I thought perhpas it was a sick joke, them trying to tell me to get laid ASAP, but it turned out that it was a motorcycle special edition and the only indecent about it was a naked leg swung over the bike on the cover. Inside, the pages where packed with pics and specifications over each bike sold in Norway in 1979, plus a test of the CX500, GS550E, Z1-R, XS1100 and Z650. Within weeks, I new every technical detail (cc, bore x stroke, number of valves, acceleration times, top speeds etc etc etc) for every single bike by heart. Fun times (although some will claim I lacked a life).
Just before I turned 16, I bought my first motorcycle. It was a Suzuki A100, already run into the ground helplessly several times, despite being only 6 years old. I pile of crap, but with some useable parts scattered around in various boxes. My dad helped me, but it soon turned out I'd have to learn fixing the thing by myself pretty fast, a my dad would wrench to the tune of 3 beers per hour. After 3 hours, his performance had rather deteriorated to a point of no help.
In three months, I had the engine open 21 times. At that point, both me and my dad was sick of it and he lent me money to buy a sparkling new CB100. It was a 4-stroke and sounded like a real bike, for crissake! I had the bike for one and a half year and 10,000 miles, riding mostly to and from school. From that I learned that shops do ****poor work and that I did it better myself (like adding 3mph top speed and reducing fuel consumption with 30% each time the chief mechanic had laid his useless hands on it. All for the sake of keeping the warranty :mad: )
Then came the most embarrassing period of my life; another Tempo moped, albeit a bit cooler looks and carrying a Panter moniker, but with the same dreadful Sachs engine. Pedal bikes would outrun me, even up hills. Particularly up hills. But I saved enough money in that short time that it was worth it - sort of.
Then came my first big bike, a Honda CX500, aka Plastic Maggot. Wonderful bike on which I did wonderfully crazy things (like almost ending up in a ditch doing 95mph in a corner the bike refused to take above 80 normally, or going through a traffic light at over 90mph just as it turned green or doing 90 in a 20-zone carrying a terrified cousin on the pillion). Just as I began to ride more sensibly, I crashed it. I came around a blind bend, doing less than usual (70 in a 40 zone) only to discover a tractor with trailer blocking the road. The only part undamaged on the bike was the front wheel which slid under the trailer. Even the engine broke, and one muffler was so flattened it was shaped around bolts and even the swing arm behind. The 10 feet tall trailer built up with wooden panels and a 2-by-4 steel frame rails was smashed. The motorcycle fairing, made from ABS plastic (same as used in helmets) was reduced to a bunch of broken pieces. I used the family jewels to smash the fuel tank flat. Everything was a wreck, including me. The doctor patched me up after letting me wait for 4 hours when he walked his round and sent me home the same evening. 8 days later, a control revealed I had to have surgery on my destroyed wrist. 8 years later it was discovered I had suffered a ruptured spleen as well - no wonder my belly ached!
I was in no condition to ride for a while, so I had to get a car. I'd been riding through two snow-filled winters and was sort of looking foreward to another, but that wasn't to be. Instead, an old SAAB had to take over transportation duty. Boring, but a lot warmer.
It took me almost a year to get another bike. I'd just finsihed school and started on a regualr job, and went out and bought a brand new Yamaha XJ750. That bike lasted even less than the Maggot - after less than 1,000 miles I was down. It was a bend on my way to work, and I increased the speed .5mph every day until I found the limit rather abruptly one morning and ended up twisted around a lamp post. Might right femur had exploded into little pieces, but the rest of me was basically fine. The bike was fixed, and I began riding soon after, one crutch at home and one at work. Doc wasn't pleased when he saw all the screws and plate he had implanted failed to keep the remainder of the bone steady enough for it to heal and told me park the two wheeler. Sod it, I thought, and had another spill a few days later. SO I decided to get rid of the bloody thing and give the leg a chance to heal. It took the better part of a full year.
My next bike was a CB350F. Very slow, but very fun. Painted it Laverda Orange and it drew larger crowds than any Harley or what'av'u. No accidents, but handling was interesting due to severely bent forks and rigid rear shocks. The only bike I've had that ran out of traction before anything scraped, helped by the stiff suspension and me removing the two lower mufflers. I sold it to by a stupid Vovlo when I met the woman that later would become my wife.
It was to be almost two years before I bought another bike, a Suzuki GS550E. It made no power at all below 7,000rpm, but worked decently from there up to about 10,000rpm. Redline was 9K, but I didn't care. The thing was ultra-reliable, but the rear shocks were shot. Cornering clearance was also less than perfect, and when I sold it I had virtually ground through the engine cases. Amazingly, the bike was utterly predictable even scraping everything and sliding both wheels. I had lots of memorable rides on that thing, and no accidents.
I then decided I wanted more power, so I bought a CB1100F. Just so I didn't have to change gears all the time. Instead, I found myself changing gears constantly, always using all the available acceleration and NEVER taking it to the road doing less than 125mph. When 100mph powerslides in suburban areas became the order of the day, I decided to sell it while everything still went OK. No accidents, but a few narrow misses at very high speeds and a lot of luck.
Next came another worn-out Suzuki, a GSX400 four. Everything connected with charign was broken and cost a fortune to rectify. Then I totalled it, destroying everything I had fixed and the frame as well. I really smasehd up my body that time, but repaired the bike and sold it to a friend who still has it almost 10 years later.
Next came a CB250 Superslow. No accidents, but a few close calls when I tried to ride away from bikes having 3 or 4 times the power of mine. F
I thought I would let you in on my own two-wheel background, although not requested by any of you. And remember - you don't have to read it :D
It all started when I was two years old and for the first time realised what a bike was - sort of. Shortly after, my mom gave be a tin racing bike with sidehack and wind-up engine. The poor thing didn't last very long, but I can still to this day remember how it looked like. Ever since, motorcycles have been the most important part of my life.
Throughout my upbringing, I tried to get close to as many bikes as possible. Not easy living out on the country, but I was lucky enough to have a neighbour who raced Speedway and had several street bikes as well. I always took myself seriously and was afraid to make an arse of meself in public, so I waited almost until I was a legal 16 yrs old before making my first attempt. That was on a Norwegian made Tempo moped with Sachs engine and a gearbox with 3 neutrals for every gear. It also had two nicely flat tyres, making the 200 dash rather interesting. Was to the spectators as well, witnessed by them all rolling around on the wet tarmac laughing themselves silly on my behalf. Bastards!
On my 15th birthday, I was given what appeared to be a half-pornographic magaine by my parents. I thought perhpas it was a sick joke, them trying to tell me to get laid ASAP, but it turned out that it was a motorcycle special edition and the only indecent about it was a naked leg swung over the bike on the cover. Inside, the pages where packed with pics and specifications over each bike sold in Norway in 1979, plus a test of the CX500, GS550E, Z1-R, XS1100 and Z650. Within weeks, I new every technical detail (cc, bore x stroke, number of valves, acceleration times, top speeds etc etc etc) for every single bike by heart. Fun times (although some will claim I lacked a life).
Just before I turned 16, I bought my first motorcycle. It was a Suzuki A100, already run into the ground helplessly several times, despite being only 6 years old. I pile of crap, but with some useable parts scattered around in various boxes. My dad helped me, but it soon turned out I'd have to learn fixing the thing by myself pretty fast, a my dad would wrench to the tune of 3 beers per hour. After 3 hours, his performance had rather deteriorated to a point of no help.
In three months, I had the engine open 21 times. At that point, both me and my dad was sick of it and he lent me money to buy a sparkling new CB100. It was a 4-stroke and sounded like a real bike, for crissake! I had the bike for one and a half year and 10,000 miles, riding mostly to and from school. From that I learned that shops do ****poor work and that I did it better myself (like adding 3mph top speed and reducing fuel consumption with 30% each time the chief mechanic had laid his useless hands on it. All for the sake of keeping the warranty :mad: )
Then came the most embarrassing period of my life; another Tempo moped, albeit a bit cooler looks and carrying a Panter moniker, but with the same dreadful Sachs engine. Pedal bikes would outrun me, even up hills. Particularly up hills. But I saved enough money in that short time that it was worth it - sort of.
Then came my first big bike, a Honda CX500, aka Plastic Maggot. Wonderful bike on which I did wonderfully crazy things (like almost ending up in a ditch doing 95mph in a corner the bike refused to take above 80 normally, or going through a traffic light at over 90mph just as it turned green or doing 90 in a 20-zone carrying a terrified cousin on the pillion). Just as I began to ride more sensibly, I crashed it. I came around a blind bend, doing less than usual (70 in a 40 zone) only to discover a tractor with trailer blocking the road. The only part undamaged on the bike was the front wheel which slid under the trailer. Even the engine broke, and one muffler was so flattened it was shaped around bolts and even the swing arm behind. The 10 feet tall trailer built up with wooden panels and a 2-by-4 steel frame rails was smashed. The motorcycle fairing, made from ABS plastic (same as used in helmets) was reduced to a bunch of broken pieces. I used the family jewels to smash the fuel tank flat. Everything was a wreck, including me. The doctor patched me up after letting me wait for 4 hours when he walked his round and sent me home the same evening. 8 days later, a control revealed I had to have surgery on my destroyed wrist. 8 years later it was discovered I had suffered a ruptured spleen as well - no wonder my belly ached!
I was in no condition to ride for a while, so I had to get a car. I'd been riding through two snow-filled winters and was sort of looking foreward to another, but that wasn't to be. Instead, an old SAAB had to take over transportation duty. Boring, but a lot warmer.
It took me almost a year to get another bike. I'd just finsihed school and started on a regualr job, and went out and bought a brand new Yamaha XJ750. That bike lasted even less than the Maggot - after less than 1,000 miles I was down. It was a bend on my way to work, and I increased the speed .5mph every day until I found the limit rather abruptly one morning and ended up twisted around a lamp post. Might right femur had exploded into little pieces, but the rest of me was basically fine. The bike was fixed, and I began riding soon after, one crutch at home and one at work. Doc wasn't pleased when he saw all the screws and plate he had implanted failed to keep the remainder of the bone steady enough for it to heal and told me park the two wheeler. Sod it, I thought, and had another spill a few days later. SO I decided to get rid of the bloody thing and give the leg a chance to heal. It took the better part of a full year.
My next bike was a CB350F. Very slow, but very fun. Painted it Laverda Orange and it drew larger crowds than any Harley or what'av'u. No accidents, but handling was interesting due to severely bent forks and rigid rear shocks. The only bike I've had that ran out of traction before anything scraped, helped by the stiff suspension and me removing the two lower mufflers. I sold it to by a stupid Vovlo when I met the woman that later would become my wife.
It was to be almost two years before I bought another bike, a Suzuki GS550E. It made no power at all below 7,000rpm, but worked decently from there up to about 10,000rpm. Redline was 9K, but I didn't care. The thing was ultra-reliable, but the rear shocks were shot. Cornering clearance was also less than perfect, and when I sold it I had virtually ground through the engine cases. Amazingly, the bike was utterly predictable even scraping everything and sliding both wheels. I had lots of memorable rides on that thing, and no accidents.
I then decided I wanted more power, so I bought a CB1100F. Just so I didn't have to change gears all the time. Instead, I found myself changing gears constantly, always using all the available acceleration and NEVER taking it to the road doing less than 125mph. When 100mph powerslides in suburban areas became the order of the day, I decided to sell it while everything still went OK. No accidents, but a few narrow misses at very high speeds and a lot of luck.
Next came another worn-out Suzuki, a GSX400 four. Everything connected with charign was broken and cost a fortune to rectify. Then I totalled it, destroying everything I had fixed and the frame as well. I really smasehd up my body that time, but repaired the bike and sold it to a friend who still has it almost 10 years later.
Next came a CB250 Superslow. No accidents, but a few close calls when I tried to ride away from bikes having 3 or 4 times the power of mine. F