Ride With HarryD
  • Home
  • Adventures
    • River Adventures
    • Mountain Adventures
    • Travels
  • Motorcycles
    • My Motorcycling Journey
    • My Motorcycles
    • Motorcycling Stories
    • Motorcycle Reviews
  • Ramblings
  • About
    • HarryD
    • Ride With HarryD

The Commute

7/7/2016

 
I’m a nice guy. No, really. Most people find me pleasant and friendly. I’m patient, empathetic and reasonable. I play the joker at kids parties, give up my seat on the train to the elderly and am moved to tears by emotional stories.

And then I start my bike. 

It’s like the noise of the engine triggers latent aggression buried deep inside me and it bubbles to the surface with the vibrations. My heart rate quickens, my hands twitch in anticipation of holding the handlebars and I start the Stop Clock. I time my commute you see. It wasn’t always like that, I only started doing this when I got the CBR600RR 12 months ago. I have been commuting for many years of course but never like the mad bastard I became on the CBR. The commute was never a race, it was a treacherous obstacle course to be completed safely. But the CBR, with its manic, revvy nature, cat-like agility and uncanny ability to fit into the tightest of spaces took commuting to a whole new level for me. It became a predatory, hunting experience and I became addicted to it. Even if I was in no hurry to get anywhere, I still HAD TO ride like my family had been taken hostage and the only way to keep them alive was to break the existing commuting speed record. I live in southern Sydney 18 KMs from my office in the CBD. In a car, it would take me around an hour at peak traffic time from my garage door to the car park boom gate. My best time on the CBR was 18 minutes. This is in peak hour traffic with stop lights, some 50KMPH suburban streets and the average speed of cars on the Eastern Distributor being 10KMPH. That time is a bit insane and I don’t do that regularly as it takes me 15 minutes to stop shaking after. The average is more like 30 minutes but some days my hand twitches more than others.

I ride my motorcycle every day, hail or shine. Here’s how a typical commute flows for me. 

I snick it into first, release the clutch and ease out of the garage. I stop outside, press the garage door remote button in my right trouser pocket to close the door behind me. I then wave bye to my kids who always come out to the balcony to see Dad streak away on his bike. I look at the bike clock and make a mental note of the starting time.

Accelerating slowly down the street I let the bike warm up a bit. Stop at T junction to turn left. There’s a car coming down the hill on my right but he’s still 20M away. I cut in front of the approaching car and accelerate swiftly to get away from it. The genial, accommodating Harry who gives up his seat to the elderly is already gone. 50M ahead is a traffic light 5 cars deep. I filter to the front and watch the traffic lights in all directions to be able to predict when my lights are about to turn green. I look into the car on my right to see if they’ve taken offence to me splitting to the front. There’s a burly man in a ute looking agitated so I take off hard from the lights and am clear of the intersection before he has even moved. Hang a left at the roundabout and take back streets to avoid the big lights to get onto The Grand Parade. Get onto The Grand Parade further up the road. The fun begins. 

The morning sun rises over Botany Bay to my right and the water shimmers. I see old people walking along the foreshore on their morning walks and hot chicks in tight pants try to distract me with their calisthenics on the beach but I stay focussed on the task at hand. I come up fast behind a Garbage Truck in the right lane with a slow L plater blocking the left lane. I ride bang on the centre line between the 2 lanes to try to glimpse the road ahead from between both vehicles and plan my move. There are many cars up ahead but they’re all moving and in my mind I visualise virtual LEDs lighting up a zig zagging path through the traffic. If only I can get past this damn truck now. I could split between the truck and the L plater but I can see the young, Asian female L plater is freaked out by the huge truck next to her and is struggling to maintain focus and line. Too risky. I wait till the L plater drops just behind the truck, bang it down a gear and take the truck on the left before the L plater has any time to panic. For a split second I register the negative effect the howling CBR has probably caused to her heart then I quickly change focus to my breathing. My breathing is slow and measured, my back is taut, my hands hold the grips only lightly, my eyes are wide and my brain is attuned to my surroundings like a Cheetah scoping its prey. I carve up the next 10 cars keeping a margin of at least 2 feet between myself and all vehicles front,  back and sides. I also always have an escape route if the car in front brakes or the car behind speeds up or the truck on the side merges into my lane. I am constantly checking my mirrors, looking through car windows at the drivers to gauge the level of attention they’re paying to the road. Then I make my moves. 

There’s a jam up ahead near the airport, I sneak in between a Hertz Rent-a-truck and an AMG Mercedez. The truck suddenly moves left to block me, maybe inadvertently. I was expecting that so quickly clench the front brake to stop inches behind the AMG’s flashy driver side mirror, probably worth a few grand. The mature blonde lady driver looks sternly at me. I smile at her in my open face helmet then look away. I paddle walk the CBR between the truck body and the AMG mirror with maybe a centimetre to spare either way. I can feel Blondie’s disapproving stare fixed on the back of my helmet, which has a sticker that my mate Madart made for me. It has a sword crossed skull with a latin phrase scribbled across it “Oderint Dum Metuant” – “let them hate, so long as they fear”. I wonder if it applies to Blondie. I then create my own highway between 2 wide lanes, dodging and weaving through SUVs, sportscars and sedans. Some people make space for me. I stick out my left hand as thanks, if I can. Then I get honked at. I pay no attention. I get to the tunnel under the airport runway just as a giant 747 crosses it, carrying people full of the anticipation of far away places. I relax and wave at the translucent airplane windows, maybe someone can see me. Maybe I made someone smile. Then I make the CBR wail in the tunnel and split the narrow space between lanes. Exiting the tunnel, the 2 left lanes are always blocked, so I head over to the third lane and gun it swiftly past a ute that’s about to turn right into my lane. He hasn’t indicated or made any movement to turn right but I just KNOW he’s going to turn right. He’s got the telltale look of a tradie heading to the Mascot industrial area. I look in my mirror to satisfy my curiosity and smile smugly as I see him change lanes behind me. I store that information in my ever growing database of motorist behaviour.

I streak past the 2 lanes of stopped traffic on my left, watching out for the smart arse who will try to suddenly pull out right and try to jump the queue further up. I spot him 20M ahead, a second before even he knows he’s going to pull out in front of me. I give him a wide berth as he pulls out exactly as I had expected. Just as the Grand Parade curves left up onto the flyover over Botany Road I spy a tiny spot and tuck in behind a car that’s just moved forward. Then I swing left between lanes and split all the way over the flyover. As we reach the bottom of the flyover, a lane joins us from the left and I know, from experience, that this is the quickest lane so cross the solid white line and jump into the left lane. This one comes to a crawl about 200M up the road and there’s a tiny stretch of asphalt between the lane and the kerb. I head into this “lane”, which is about a foot wide and full of cracked and swollen tarmac. I consciously slow my breathing, tighten my core, my hold on the grips light and my vision far in front of me as I guide the CBR at 50KMPH, straight as an arrow with my front left brake disk less than 6 inches from the kerb and my right mirror 6 inches from car mirrors and truck bodies. A couple of places I need to jump over gutters, fallen debris and sticks. I stay on throttle to keep the front wheel light and the CBR remains composed.

I hit the Eastern distributor, which is crawling at snail’s pace, and quickly shoot up the emergency lane maintaining a constant 60KMPH. I scan constantly to my north-east for possible cop cars or bikes and inattentive drivers who may drift into the emergency lane. I know there are cop bikes usually lurking here to pull rule breaking motorbike hoons over but I roll the dice. The alternative is to crawl along in traffic but that is not why I took up motorcycling. You see, motorcycling has a flowing rhythm, it only works when you’re moving at a certain pace, otherwise it just feels awkward and silly. Motorcycling makes no sense at 10 kilometres an hour. I decided a long time ago that I will ride my way or I will not ride at all. I will not be dictated to or cowed into submission with threats of my own safety. I ride smooth, safe and in a state of hyper alertness. What I’m doing may appear dangerous but it certainly doesn’t feel like that to me and I feel in complete control. My right index finger is always hovering over the front brake lever while I keep the throttle constant. Sometimes I drag the rear brake through really tight spots, I find this stabilises the bike when you need to be straight and stable at walking pace. You can carry a higher rpm and don’t need to feather the clutch as much. Not great for your rear brake, of course, but it’s hardly used anywhere else and I haven’t found any excessive wear on it.
Then we (Casey and I) hit the Eastern Distributor Tunnel, which is fairly easy to split through and doesn’t hold me up at all. I cut off at the William Street exit and a couple of stop lights later, I’m at my car park. I look at the bike clock and calculate my time. 18 minutes.

I park the CBR next to the other bikes in the lot and stroll through checking out the bikes. I then walk to the office, decompressing. My fellow pedestrians are unaware of the adrenaline pumping through me. I am indistinguishable from them as I show no overt signs of being a motorcyclist. No jacket, no boots, no helmet, no swagger.

I work amiably with my colleagues, designing enterprise grade software systems that help my company sustain their phenomenal growth. Evening comes and another uneventful day has passed. I text my wife I’m on my way home and check if she needs me to pick up any groceries.

Then I start my bike.

Monster - meet MacPass. Macpass - Meet Monster

4/7/2016

 
I have put 700KM on the Monster in the 5 days that I have owned it. Around 400 of them came on Sunday. It was my first run on the open road on it and I got to know it better. It has been absolutely sensational for the urban running I've done on it till now so I was keen to see if it was just as good on a real-world country run. I was almost relieved to find a couple of chinks in its erstwhile virgin armour because I’ve been so smitten with this bike, it seemed almost too good to be true.
Picture
I went south, through the Nasho, Mt Kiera, back roads to Mac Pass, Kangaroo valley, Cambewarra and retraced my steps back home. It’s been a while since I've done a weekend run on a perfect, sunny day like today and I was gobsmacked at just how many bikes were out and about. I was also amazed that I didn't see a single cop all day. It was a very slow run through the Nasho following cars and some incredibly slow bikes. Tootling along in 1st and 2nd gear, entering corners almost upright that I'd normally be railing into at 100KMPH, the Monster took it in its stride. It wasn't fussed, no fretting or fuming, it was happy to cruise, even if I wasn't.
Picture
Stanwell Tops was full of 2 wheeled contraptions and associated humans tasting the freedom of the motorcycling lifestyle. Standing around looking cool for the asian tourists, sipping endless coffees while enjoying the climax of their day's riding, an hour from home. They reminded me why I couldn't remember the last time I was there on a Sunday. I love this place but its much better enjoyed on a weekday evening when you're guaranteed a traffic and cop free run through the Nasho and quiet contemplation on the hill. Still, I lingered longer than I wanted to as a leather clad cutie came over to chat to me about the Monster. I have a weakness for leather clad cuties. Even female ones.
Picture
Then I hit the Old Princes Highway heading south. That's where I discovered the first weakness of the Monster. Well, its my weakness more than the bike's to be honest. A weakness of my neck muscles to be even more specific. The year on the CBR has hardened my back and knees but has definitely softened my neck. The Monster is a true naked bike without any wind protection of the metallic, plastic or Perspex variety. There is no buffeting and the wind in your face is fresh and turbulence free. But there is a lot of it. Over 130, my neck was straining. I found the handlebars, which are perfect for urban riding, a bit too high for high speed touring. And the foot pegs, which again are perfectly placed for a roadster, are too far forward for higher speeds where you need to lean into the wind. This is where the Tuono would kill the Monster.

The bloody thing rips hard but. Rolling on in 4th gear from 100KMPH sees 170 come up in the blink of an eye. The suddenness of the acceleration and the exponential increase in wind pressure nearly dropped me off the back as I inadvertently twisted the throttle even more! Then I hit Mount Kiera and it all made sense again. Tight, technical and bumpy, I love Mount Kiera road. Its only short, maybe 30 corners over 5 Ks but stringing them together is hugely enjoyable and I’ve never enjoyed them more than on the Monster. Enough grunt to carry it all in 2nd gear and a couple of times I whacked the throttle hard on the exit of a 25K corner, the Monster snarled and the front lifted a foot off the ground. ​
Picture
Then I hit MacPass and it made even more sense. I overtook so many bikes going up, I lost count. The Monster came with the Michelin PR4 tyres that I’ve never used before. They’re a nice profile though not as soft as I’d like them and don’t heat up very quickly. Still, I was confident enough to lean it all the way over though I was conservative with how quickly I got on the gas. The Monster lives for leaping out of corners. I doubt there is any production motorcycle that is more enjoyable to just whack out of corners. So much grunt, it snarls, lifts the front and you feel like one of those guys from the test riding videos.

It was bike central at the Robertson Pie shop too and some beautiful bikes were getting a good tan in the sun. Got chatting to a couple of wizened gents on sportsbikes. One was on a Panigale S tricolour, the other one on a tricked Busa. I could tell, by their relaxed manner, that they were old timers at this “going fast” game and quite enjoyed chatting to them about everything from Squids to MotoGP.
Picture
I left quickly, went down to Kangaroo Valley and the Cambewarra bends before turning around and retracing my steps all the way home. Heading back down MacPass I baited some sportsbike riders and a dude on a Multistrada to see if they were up for some fun. They thought they were but naah. 
It was an epic day. Hard and fast in the twisty bits but plenty of breaks and just enjoying the day at my pace. The fuel range was fantastic though I don’t know exactly how many Ks I got as I couldn’t work out how to reset the bloody trip meter, the dash has so much information and options!

Overall, the Monster does have limitations for high speed touring. Not insurmountable ones. Sure you could fit a screen and put rearsets on it to make it more comfortable at higher speeds but that would fundamentally change the look and character of the bike. I don’t plan to do either. I love it as it is and for 90% of my riding, I cannot think of a better bike on the planet.

I am really starting to like the look of it too. I’ve ordered some bits to clean up the rear, which should help with the gag reflex everytime I walk around it.
Picture
Hail motorcycles.

    Category

    All
    Gallery
    Motorcycle Reviews
    Motorcycle Rides
    Motorcycle Rides
    Motorcycles
    Mountain Adventures
    Political
    Random
    River Adventures

    Archives

    October 2016
    September 2016
    August 2016
    July 2016
    June 2016
    February 2016
    January 2016
    October 2015
    September 2015
    August 2015
    July 2015
    May 2015
    April 2015
    March 2015
    December 2014
    October 2014
    September 2014
    August 2014
    July 2014
    June 2014
    May 2014
    November 2012
    October 2012
    July 2005
    February 2005
    September 2004
    June 2004
    May 2003
    November 1996

    RSS Feed

You can Contact Me via my Facebook Page or Email