Well it's Monday Afternoon as I type this from my nice warm office, still basking in my Triumph-ant return from Whyalla.I flew in mid morning on Friday, and Sue and Jamie picked me up from the airport and took me back to the Motel so I could sort out my stuff and get some coffee in to me, I'd been up since 0430 and needed a caffeine fix bad.
We then went to the "SA Services" office (DMV) so I could pay the registration fee, South Australia has a much better system than here in Victoria, you can just let your registration run out, if say, you can't ride the bike for awhile, then you can just wander in and pay for 3, 6, 9 or 12 months worth of registration, and it starts when you want it to, amazing!
Time to collect the bike. It had been sitting in the local Triumph dealer's shop for almost two years, but in a small outback town like Whyalla, he was never gonna sell it. The dealer, Pat, struck me as a "bullshiit artist", friendly enough, but just didn't know his product, and he told some lies that weren't "life threatening", but annoying.
He said he'd prepared the bike for collection by "topping up the oil" (why? The bike had only done 36 Km total, or 22 miles, so why did it need more oil?) "topping up the battery flluid" (bit hard, it's a gel-cell and there are no "caps") he'd "drained the old fuel and refilled it with fresh gas, and it was now about 3/4 full" (in fact the gas in it smelled like death, and it was almost empty)
On top of that, I asked what fuel to use and he said "95 Octane or better, as the engines run 11:1 compression" (Triumph manual says 8.9:1) both mirrors were looses, and finally, when he installed the fairing he didn't tighten the bolts on one side, and the rear crash bar that uses the passenger footpeg bolt to mount on was attached with the footpeg upside down! Faaaark...........
I fixed all that back at the motel, then took it for a shakeout ride to flush out the last of the stale fuel. I filled it with 98 Octane and did a quick 120 mile round trip to a little seaside place between Whyalla and Port Lincoln (where some of the White Pointer shark scenes were filmed for "Jaws" back in the 1970's) and filled it up again when I got back.
The bike is just awesome. It's definitely a cruiser, it looks a little like a 1930's era Henderson 4, it's a nice relaxed sitting position, and it's low centre of gravity makes it easy to maneuver around at low speed, once you get used to the footboards. Crack the throttle though, and that's where any similarities end. Faaark!
I'd been talking to a mate about the best break in procedure, and he reinforced my thinking that to properly seat the rings, you don't want to be too gentle, but instead you've gotta "give it the berries" whenever an opportunity allows, and also, be able to back it off real quick using engine braking, making sure of course, that nothing is gonna slam you in the asss........... BTW, This is a very interesting article:
http://www.mototuneusa.com/break_in_secrets.htm The nice straight road I was riding on was pretty much empty for the whole trip, the sun was shining, and it was around 70 degrees F, so pretty much perfect conditions. After 10 or 15 miles I was cruising along at around 60 Mph in 3rd gear (4000 Rpm) feeling like I could maybe give that throttle a little twist, but when I did, I certainly wasn't prepared for what happened next!
I cracked the throttle wide open, and in a nano-second the engine took on a nasty "Jeckyll and Hide" personality change, the front end got really light on me, my hemet's visor slammed down like a guillotine and the bike literally "Rocketed" forward (pardon the pun) with such force that all I could do was try to hang on as I automatically started shifting up, everything was happening so quickly, changing up was my only contribution to this self induced maniacal drama! Within seconds I'd roared ("scream" is not in a Rocket 3's mechanical vocabulary) past 120 Mph and while the bike was quite stable, I wasn't, so I backed off. Jeebus...............
When the color returned to my face I did attempt a few more "breakin" activities on the rest of the ride, and was shocked each time at how quick this "Cruise Missile" was able to react to the right wrist, and also, just how lazy the gearing is. For example, there's not much point engaging 5th (top) gear under 60 Mph, as this will result in a drop to just 2300 RPM! At 80 Mph it's pulling a shade over 3000, and at 100 Mph it's doing 4000 Rpm, or what my CB750 K0 does, at 50. I got back to Whyalla and refueled the bike, and considering my antics, was happy that the fuel economy was actually pretty good, around 15 kilometers per litre, or 40 miles per gallon.
As a "thank you" for their hospitality, I took Sue and Jamie out for dinner, then after a few drinks I had a great nights sleep and woke up to another fine, warm day. Not really what I'd had in mind when I packed my riding gear though, so it wasn't long before I was sweating. Bugger. If I'd known it was gonna be 70-ish, I'd have packed my "Marlon Brando" leather jacket and my open face helmet, but of course it's winter here in Melbourne, so it should be bloody cold everywhere, right? Wrong..........
Anyway, you gotta work with what you've got, so I suited up and took off. I managed to do around 500 miles before it got too dark to continue, although I was enjoying the cooler weather once the sun went down. Now I don't know what you guys do on long and lonely roads when riding big distances on your own, but to maintain some semblance of awareness, I sing. Of course I'm rubbish, but at these speeds no-one else can hear me anyway, so I find it takes my mind off my numb asss (and for some reason I couldn't really understand, sore wrist)
Being as I was on a Rocket, I was singing a medley of Elton John songs, like "Rocket-Man", "Benny and the Jets", and "Don't let your son go down on me" as the last rays of the sun disappeared over the horizon, on route to another country that needed it more than Oz, but this song-fest came to a screeching halt when a hand full of "Midges" (little black flying bugs) were sucked into my voice box. After pulling up on the side of the road and flushing them out with some bottled water, I tried singing thru my nose, but that only made me sound like Gene Pitney, so I shut up, and started to look for a place to crash, er, I mean, a nice motel.
I found a nice place in Bordertown, an older pub that had been redeveloped into quite a large establishment with a seperate motel, bottle shop, poker machine venue and a large bistro serving reasonably priced meals. I ordered a "Chicken Parmiagana" with chips and salad, and washed it down with several alcoholic ciders, for a change. After losing 30 bucks on the slot machines I retired to my reasonably priced room (with the rocket parked right outside my door) and watched cable TV in bed, while downing a couple more glasses of Jack Daniels. No wonder I slept like a baby...........
An unfamiliar noise woke me up in the middle of the night, twas rain beating down on my bike cover! I sneaked outside, naked, to check that the cover was secure (it was) and beat a retreat back to my nice warm bed, the weather had taken a turn for the worse.........
My mate Pete rang from Melbourne at around 7am to see how I was going, by then I was loading up the bike in the rain, ready to depart. I still had 300 miles to go and the sky was black, the wind was cold, and my spirits were slightly lower than the previous day.
I rode on into the rain, and after 100 miles, decided that breakfast was in order, so had a hot "brekkie" at Macdonalds in a little town called Horsham, not far from where my Grandfather lived. I thought about riding over to the cemetry to see his grave and pay my respects, he was an old biker too, I've got a pic somewhere of him on his new Indian "Power Plus" taken in 1919 when he came back from fighting in Gallipoli and France in WW1, but it was too wet and I wanted to continue on, so I'll have to catch up with "Pop" another time.
I made it back to Melbourne around 2.30 pm, it was still raining, and I couldn't believe that by 3pm it was warming up, the rain had stopped completely, and Melbourne was lit up with brilliant sunshine! Oh well, the bike was filthy, my wife and son had gone out, so I rode it around to pete's place to show it off, then back home to give it a wash, the rain and slush had "dulled" it's appearance somewhat, so I did the typical new owner thing and gave it a good wash. Annoyingly, I discovered a scratch on the tank made either by the zipper or a button on my jacket, or maybe the tank bag, but I think I can polish it out, but it sucks, nonetheless.
The only scary things that happened to me were two weird instances when I was riding way above the speed limit in the South Australian "outback" 20 Mph or more over the posted speed limit and highway patrol cops drove straight past me in the opposite direction and didn't even attempt to pull me over, (the speed limit ranged between 60 amd 66 Mph and on one occasion when I saw the cop too late I was doing close to 100) but what really frightened me (for just a moment mind, everyone knows that I'm so tough that when the Boogeyman goes to bed he checks in his closet and under his bed for me....) was when I was almost home, I stopped for gas at a big gas station close to the freeway on-ramp, and anyway, I was re-entering the freeway (66 Mph) and was accellerating up to the speed limit, but to get in front of a couple of cars I "gave it the berries" at around 60-odd Mph in third gear, and the rear wheel spun! Sheee-it!
The bike started to "snake" across the freeway at close to 80 (I'm only guessing, I think there was something in my eyes.........) so I backed it off then gradually accellerated again, and everything was fine, but I've got to say, my sphincter was a-puckering! Anyway, I got home unscathed, washed the rocket, changed outta my (slightly) damp clothes, and poured myself a drink. Oh, and I did take some pics along the way, and I'll post them tonight when I get home from work.
All in all, it was a great adventure, and I'd recommend it to anyone. My only problem now, is that I have way too many bikes in my garage, the 30 foot by 20 foot garage I had built 8 years ago is really cramped to the point where I have to take them outside just to work on them, so it's time to "thin the herd". My dilemma is, which bikes do I keep, and which bikes do I sell off to make space in my garage, and to put my bank account back into the black? Eenie, meenie, miney, mo! Cheers, Terry.
