Where is the Back-Lane Behemoth?

Understandably, when people learn that I have obtained this…

…they assume that I swapped in the Back-Lane Behemoth as part exchange for something lighter, more manageable, and better suited to the predominantly rural type of riding I do. I mean, why would a retired gent, such as I, require one motorcycle – let alone two? But they would assume wrong – on both counts. One: why wouldn’t a retired gent want two – utterly disparate, chalk and cheese – motorcycles? Two: Nah, look, there it is…

After all, why would I want to deny myself this?

I Like a Bit of Domination…

…just as long as it’s of the Yamaha kind.

Watching the 2022 German Motocross Grand Prix on TV, I was delighted when the three factory Yamaha riders finished 1-2-3. So delighted, in fact, that I snapped this picture of my Samsung Smart TV…

A few weeks later they did it again at the Grand prix of Finland. Better still, Yamaha mounted riders also finished fourth and fifth! Now why would anyone consider buying another brand? If you didn’t know already, I’ve been a fan since my first Yamaha in 1976!

My Four-Fendered Friend

Okay, I took the title from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, but that’s how I feel my ‘modern classic’ Toyota Corolla treats me. Yet again – for the  eighth time in a row – it has passed its annual safety and emissions test, known in Britain as the (dreaded) MOT. Guess it was a “thank you” for all the money I spent on it during the past year. Or maybe it enjoys sitting on the hardstanding beside it’s cousin – the Yamaha XJR1300 – another ‘modern classic’. Yamaha make many of Toyota’s engines you know: maybe their hearts came from the same factory.  Happy Nipponese buddies, watching the world go by through my car port opening…

Spend Spend Spend – What, Some More?

The left-hand front indicator on my fabulous Yamaha had always waggled slightly in the 85MPH breeze. I had attempted to attach it more firmly with superglue, but to no avail. So it came as no surprise when this happened…

My first reaction was “Gonna need some better glue.” So I spent a few pounds on some Araldite, which (if you’re unfamiliar with the name) is one of those adhesives that combine two tubes of goo together to make a fast-acting glop that sets like iron. Well it worked: the indicator was back on and not going anywhere. Unfortuately it didn’t work either. Obviously something must have broken inside the indicator whilst it had flapped around like a startled duck as I rode home. Why didn’t I check that the light actually illuminated before I spent money on expensive glue? Duh – stupid old duffer!  

Two days later…

Not the genuine ‘Yamaha’ article, but an excellent ‘pattern’ part that matched the ‘real McCoy’ perfectly. 

But when I placed it beside the right-hand indicator, I realised that the abortionist who had converted the standard XJR1300 into a semi-street fighter had, for some unaccountable reason, swapped out the original indicators for some half-sized inferior kind…

Two days later, and now fifty Pounds poorer, Tooty the Wrench Wielder is happy again…

Fitting them to the machine couldn’t have been easier. One spanner and some cable snips was all it took. But discovering the cables to which they needed to be attached was another story. They were nowhere to be seen. Conspicuous by their absense, I think they call it. The new lights should have been ‘plug and play’. But, as I was to discover, there were no plugs – at all…

But eventually I was able to locate some spindly wires protruding from beneath the fuel tank. So taking some block connectors (that I always seem to have somewhere in one of my tool boxes – don’t know where they come from), I relocated the electrical unions inside the headlight shell. Luckily there was just enough room inside there to allow me to reassemble the headlight and refit it to the bike without stressing or breaking anything. Et voila…

Bigger. Brighter. Safer. So then it was just a matter of chucking some fuel in the beastie’s tank…

…and taking it for a test ride that, somehow, managed to last three times as long as it needed to. But that’s bikes for you: once you’re on-board, you don’t really want to get off again.

Spend Spend Spend – One More Time…

Okay, yes I know I said I’d bought enough ‘goodies’ for the Yamaha – but really, at speed, the aerodynamics leave something to be desired. Windblast shoots straight off the raised ‘clocks’ and tries to lift my helmet from my head. A small screen is clearly in order. So I put one ON ORDER. And lo, verily it hath arrived…

Spanish too. Can’t be bad. Then, following a half-hour’s ham-fisted tinkering by Tooty the Wrench-Wielder – and another three-quarters of an hour test riding it (why not, it was dry and sunny), this is the result…

Spot-on. Looks nice: does the job required of it. And it was cheap too. Happy days again.

P.S you’d think I’d have put on something rather more fetching for the photograph. Aargh, you’ve seen me in my Slob Gear!

 

Spend Spend Spend!

A continuation of Tooty’s return to the two-wheeled fold.

Oh, I don’t know; when I swapped my dinky little Yamaha 125 for its  brother on steroids, I promised myself that I wouldn’t add anything to it: that money would only be spent on essentials – like tax, insurance, oil, tyres, etc. But very quickly I added a new headlight and a fender extender. Now I’ve decided that, perhaps, a little luggage-carrying capacity would be nice. Nothing ostentatious, you understand. Just a neat little rack. But, flipping heck – are they expensive! So, having trawled through Ebay, I spent £42 on a used item. Another £8 for fittings from the local D.I.Y store, and there’s another £50 lost from the bank account. But it does look nice…

…and makes hauling the behemoth on to its centre stand easier for this sixty-five year-old idiot. 

But then there’s my very expensive (and exceedingly groovy) ‘adventure’ crash helmet…

Apart from the fact that its huge and heavy, that jutting mouthpiece gives my vast nose plenty of room to breath, and the beaky peak is excellent for shading my eyes from the sun. But at the speeds the 1300 is capable of, it’s like  wearing a brick. And that peak becomes an aerofoil. Not fun when you turn your head for motorway lane-changes. On a 125 it was fine. Behind the tall screen of an ‘adventure’ bike it is also probably fine. But not on a ‘muscle’ bike. So, for anything other than my rural photographic trips it has been replaced by…

…this rather fetching blue item that cuts through the air so much better. It’s more like the type of helmet I used to wear. No more hanging on for dear life, or rolling off the throttle because my neck muscles are going into spasm.  It’s like I’m forty years younger – and £60 poorer.

But when the world outside looks like this…

…you don’t want anything to detract from the ride. Happy days.

I Expenda on a Fenda Extenda

Back in late 2020, when I was rediscovering the joys/pains of motorcycling, my boots often looked like this…

And the bike’s engine was even worse. So I trawled the Internet for an answer to my muddy problem. I found (and fitted) this…

My Fenda Extenda (terrible name, but very discriptive) was a Godsend, and it made the bike look nicer too…

So when I stepped up to its replacement, I was ahead of the curve. I didn’t wait until my header pipes and engine casings were all covered in shit: I bought another Fenda Extenda first…

Now if it’s any bloody good I have no idea: but it  certainly looks  nice…

Of course, on a machine this handsome, a rusty bucket would probably look fabulous.

P.S I am in no way affiliated with the Fenda Extenda’s manufacturers – Pyramid Plastics; I just like the product.

P.P.S The magnetic tank bag featured here is the same one on both bikes – made by Oxford (and really neat). It just shows the vast difference in the size of the bikes.

P.P.P.S It may be a coincidence, but don’t you think that the bikes (although very different) look rather similar in their stance and bearing? I must be a fan of modern retro.

 

Two-Wheeled Tooty: Confidence Regained

Once upon a time, five years before he was named Tooty (in 1981), a young country bumpkin was talked into switching from Honda motorcycles to Yamaha. Here he is posing  with his mighty steed – a Yamaha RD125DX…

He and the Yamaha gelled instantly and he would become a life-long fan of the brand. But life being life – that is unknowable and often incomprehensible – in time his situation changed, and motorcycling  became a thing of the past. Then, in 2020 (21 years after quitting bikes), he took the plunge and returned to the fold…

Of course his mount was a Yamaha. A YBR125 to be exact. But it wasn’t the best that ever escaped that manufacturers stable. It wasn’t Japanese for a start! But he didn’t know that when he bought it. And he never really forgave the machine, despite the fact that it was totally reliable and never let him down. But he never felt entirely confident upon it – especially in traffic. Poor suspension: lack lustre brakes: feeble single cylinder engine were its major bug-bears – though Tooty had hoots of fun rushing down gravel-strewn, muddy-as-heck, and cow shit-ridden back lanes on it. Look at the picture above: does that really say “Confident rider”? Nah. What he really needed was something that would give him back the two-wheeled exuberance of his long-lost youth. Something with a bit of oomph. Another Yamaha obviously. But one built in Japan.  Regardez vous por favor…

Ten months later. Yup, I’m back – and on a cult classic too! But I think I might pass on the gravel-strewn, muddy-as-heck, cow shit-ridden back lanes for now. Maybe an off-road bike for those. Might have to get some motocross boots though. Hmm, sounds fun…

Impetuosity isn’t reserved for the young.

For the past year I’ve done several things on impulse. My carelessness has reminded me that I was once young and did all the stupid things impetuous young men do – often with regret when they went painfully wrong. So, if I have any sense, you would think that I might have learned something as I’ve grown older. Namely that it’s usually safer if you think something through before acting. But, as I approach the second half of my sixth decade, impetuosity seems to be taking control again. Recently, whilst out walking in the English countryside I was smitten by a sudden thought. An inquiry really. I don’t know why, but I had to know the answer. So I acted on impluse; and now I know that my willy is impervious to the common stinging nettle, but my scrotum is not. It’s not important, and it won’t enhance my life; but it’s good to know. But that paled into insignificance at my latest bout of impetuosity. Bored with the limited performance of my (shabbily-built Chinese-produced) Yamaha YBR125…

…I began trawling through the dreadfully limited stock of my local motorcycle dealers. I was looking for something affordable in the 300-500cc range. Instead I bought this…

Flipping heck it’s a monster. It’s a 2002 Yamaha XJR1300. It has three more cylinders than my 125; ten times the cubic capacity; and, I reckon, weighs more than all my previous bikes put together. What was I thinking? And I’m afraid that it’s going to hurt a lot more than that patch of stinging nettles did. But it’s my dream-bike: with impetuosity in control, how could NOT buy it?

Oh, Tooty: What Have You Done?

Back in the mists of time – or 2001 as it was known then – I won a competition. Actually I won two competions in the same magazine at the same time. One prize was used over and over until I was sick of it. It was a computer game, which I (much) later gave away to charity. The other prize has never been used. But so enamoured with it was I that I kept it and took it with me wherever I lived – where it simply took up space, and in one case went slightly mouldy. It was a genuine Kawasaki motorcycle jacket. Now bear in mind that I had given up motorcycling two years previously, and had promised my wife that those two-wheeled days were in the past. And they were. But I couldn’t let that jacket go. Then today a four-wheel drive Mitsubishi arrived outside my house. It was pulling a trailer. And upon that trailer….

Here’s a clue to the identity of the item that was on the trailer…

Now I finally get to use that jacket. It now has a purpose. It is no longer a waste of space. But I didn’t buy a Kawasaki. Of course I didn’t. I was once (long ago) known as The Yamaha Kid, you know. I couldn’t let the side down, now – could I! Now all I have to do is remember how to ride my Yamaha. It’s been a while. I don’t think muscle memory is gonna cut it this time. As my daughter put it to me: “I was seven when you crashed your yellow bike.” (the day I quit) “Now I’m twenty-eight!”

This is going to be horrible.  I can imagine my wife looking down at me from wherever she is now. “Oh, Tooty,” she’ll say, “what have you done? You silly old bugger.”