Currently the choice is very limited but here you go anyway:
Due to the change in regulations in January of 1997 restricting new riders to 14bhp(?) machines - roughly a slow 250cc. I figured if I passed before then I would be much better off, being able to choose any type of bike rather than being restricted. So off I went and booked a 2 day course and passed on the 1st September 1996.
The plan was to buy a Yamaha TZR250. That'll be fine I thought. However, after searching round all the local dealers and private sales I only located one such machine that was in reasonable condition. I arranged a test ride for later in the day, but upon return to the shop was informed it had been sold in my absence :(
After talking to the proprietor of the shop it was decided I would take another bike out for a test ride - a Kawasaki GPz600R. Due to the fact I had only been riding for 2 days on a CG125, the thought of leaping onto this HUGE bike made me a tad nervous. However, I was assured it would be just the same to ride as the CG and was given the keys. Off I set around Reading on this HUGE monster and after about 10 minutes felt right at home. Dead easy.
Returning to the shop I placed a deposit down on the bike and headed for home to sort out the insurance. Two days later and back I was at the shop picking up the bike. Off I set for home with the biggest grin ever to adorn a humans face. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, open roads and beautiful scenery. Ahhh, what bliss.
Taking it nice and easy the ride was sooooo fulfilling. All went smoothly. That was until about 10miles from home...... But that's another story.
So the original plan of a TZR was out the window and the budget closely followed it. Having spent an extra 500quid on the GPz itself and doubling my insurance, the initial outleigh was a tad greater than expected.
Having run the bike for 6 months now the running costs are starting to mount. Yes I do get a better mpg than the old Fiat (45mpg as opposed to 30mpg). Yes tax is only 60 pounds for a full year :) However, two new tyres, breaks all round, chain/sprockets and oil/filter changes so far. A full service is what's needed but priorities suggest otherwise. Also as yet I'm still riding in the cheap/secondhand kit I originally purchased, with the need of some decent leathers rapidly approaching. But well that's the price you pay I guess.
A cheap alternative? Well it could have been, but as ever I wouldn't have been satisfied with a cheap alternative I had to go all the way. And at the end of the day, with summer rapidly approaching, I'm glad that I've done it and would recommend it to you all. Go pass you bike tests NOW! Have some fun this summer.
It was about mid April when Stew came across from Ipswich to visit for the weekend.
We had been out in Wantage on Saturday night for a few drinks. Not particularly impressed with the night life was a bit of an understatement. However, we stayed out till late and talked for quite a while when getting in. Getting off to bed fairly late.
As per usual before you know it and the alarm is ringing aloud and it was time to get up. Now usually on a Sunday, the sound of an alarm clock would be closely followed by the sound of air turbulence, followed by a smashing sound against the far wall. On the Sunday in question this was not to be the case however. There was in fact a purpose for crawling out of bed at just turned 7:30 am. We were going to Box Hill on the bike.
Ever since I got the bike Stew has made his feelings know about the enthusiasm he shows towards riding it: though only as pillion (I'm not silly enough to let him loose on my pride and joy). We had previously been out a few times but only ever on short runs. With Stew wanting a "longer" ride, and me wanting to go down to Box Hill this seemed an ideal opportunity to kill two birds with one stone.
We met Mike in the town square some time after 9 am an headed down to Box Hill. After the first 50miles or so Stew was getting more relaxed, as was I still new at this pillion lark, and the ride became more enjoyable. After a journey of about 110miles we arrived at Box Hill and met up with some of the Ixi gang. Signed a couple of petitions regarding parking charges being introduced and proceeded to wander round the car sorry bike park.
After an hour or two we, Mike and Stew/me, headed off for food and then home. By this time Stew and I were working quite well together on the bike and the ride was becoming more and more enjoyable. We even managed to find some interesting twisties for the journey back.
About half way back I was following Mike, having no idea where we were. Coming off a rounderbout, as per usual I pulled the clutch in as to change up a gear. All of a sudden the clutch hurtled towards the bar grip and locked there. I figured that the clutch cable may have snapped. Without thinking much I removed my hand from the bars to try and prise the clutch lever away from them. However, as soon as I left go of the bars, the lever sprung out and we continued up the road with a jolt.
Quickly forgetting/ignoring what just happenend, I carried on and did the same again when changing up to the next gear, however, this time when the lever sprung towards the bars I got a shooting pain up my left arm. So after removing my hand from the bars, and having the lever spring back out, I decided to waggle my fingers around wondering why they were now tingling.
Upon doing this though, my hand went into an instant grabbing motion, with me ending up with a clenched fist. This was all well and good, apart from the fact that my hand had now locked in this position, and was beginning to hurt. If not to complicate things further we were still traveling along at this time, Stew and I (now with only one hand controlling the bike while the other was becoming more and more painful).
I eased over to the left of the rode and throttled back until we were chugging along at tickover. Then had to hit the bike kill switch in order to stop, well I could not depress the clutch with a throbbing left fist.
The instant we came to a stop I was off the bike nursing my hand. Well I was actually trying to open my fist in order to remove my glove. After a few seconds struggling I prised it open and quickly removed my glove. Seconds later it did the same again: lock in fist shape.
While I was running round in agony trying to open my fist once again Stew was having a field day laughing hysterically at me. This continued for some minutes until finally the reflex action of fist locking ceased. After nursing my hand for a few more minutes, it suddenly struck me. I had no idea where we were, and Mike had earlier ridden off into the distance.
After pondering over what to do, and resting the hand, Mike luckily returned looking puzzled: he had been sat up the road just out of site waiting for us to catch up.
We waited about 10 more minutes until I had decided that the hand was now fully recovered before continuing on our merry way, with no further white knuckle experiences, apart.....
