You know what I didn't do last Summer?

I did not buy that 2006 Triumph 1050 Speed Triple for almost seven grand. It was a very nice bike, and well maintained, too.

 

I visited her twice, and I almost took her home, but in the end I didn't. At the end I was terrified of the one liter machine, and what it would do to me. Besides, where is a money tree when you need it?

Meanwhile an update on my Cruiser-going-Street-Tracker-Scrambler Project... Changes to date have been low cost, and low tech: Seat, Flyscreen, and Handguards.

A Triumpher

I love my neighbourhood especially for the people it seems to attract. We were just returning from a brisk walk along the inlet, and had done some grocery shopping when I stopped to admire a spotless black Triumph Scrambler. 

My checking out the motorcycle didn't go unnoticed and soon the bike's owner, Richard and I were in deep conversation about riding, idiot cagers, and the passion that is motorcycling. The gentleman rides two up with the wife, and puts significant mileage on the bike. The only obvious modifications are the engine bars and the skid plate, everything else is stock. Once again I am smitten by the looks of this Scrambler. I feel that I need to return to my own 'project bike' soon, and scramble it a little more.

Thanks, Richard for the chat, and keep the rubber side down!

The Spirit of the Seventies

The bikes of the Seventies had always intrigued me the most. I will never forget my Yammy SR500, built in the early Nineties, yet with the style of the Seventies in mind.

No surprise that I am constantly drawn back to bikes like the classic line of Triumph such as the Bonneville or the Scrambler.

There are custom motorcycle builders out there who can help bringing back the good ole times by (re-)contructing those dream bikes. One of them (unfortunately located in London, England) is a shop called Spirit of the Seventies.

Beautiful: Kawa Street Tracker by Spirit of the Seventies

 Breathtaking: Triumph Street Scrambler by Spirit of the Seventies

It is no surprise either that I was attracted to the timeless design of the Harley Davidson Sportster. What is possible with an 883 at hand, and a desire for Scrambler/Tracker motorcycles? Budget aside, there is an answer to everything.

Roland Sands' Hurley Scrambler

JDM Bull Dirt Style

I wonder what the price tag would be on customizing my Sportster scrambler-style...

Xtreme Stripling

Marvelous video of French stunt rider Julien Welsch at work, on a Triumph Street Triple.

Embracing my inner Hooligan

In the last twelve months I have been test riding BMW, Triumph, and Harley motorcycles. Test rides are usually limited in time and restricted to the roads in the dealership's vicinity, which is good enough for me to say 'no thanks' or 'maybe' - but not enough to say EUREKA!

With the desire to ride something different, but keeping an eye on available budget, reason and needs at the time I meanwhile opted for the Sportster, and fuel economy and limited mileage aside, this bike hasn't let me down.

Fast forward to May 2012. Not often does one get the opportunity to test ride a motorcycle for longer, and in its natural habitat. While in New Zealand, Geoff had generously offered me his Triumph Street Triple 675.

At the time I wasn't even sure I wanted it. I was already content with having been on Kiwi roads on my previous ride with Roger. Besides, I felt intimidated by the Triumph's 105 HP. To hell with that, what do numbers tell us anyway. When Geoff had coaxed me into taking seat on the STriple, I knew I wanted to try it out. This bike fitted like a glove. It felt like sitting in instead of on the bike, and becoming a part of it. I found the foot-pegs and controls conveniently arranged, and easy to handle.

After Geoff had maneuvered the STriple down the steep hill of his driveway, it was my turn, and let it roll with a gentle twist of the wrist, shifting up and down, accelerating and breaking to get a better understanding of the bike's functionality and reactions. Every move felt natural to me.

Once on the road I opened the throttle a bit wider and got a first taste of the over hundred ponies at work. For a split second I had a nervous tingle in my stomach when the front shocks lifted, thinking I would end up with a wheelie. Not that it happened, and I certainly had neither in mind nor ever intend to do one. There was only minimal vibration noticeable, and I was instantly ensnared by the distinct noise only a triple cylinder engine is capable of. World, hear me roar!

The Street Triple is a naked bike so I expected the wind pressure to pull at my arms and pound my shoulders, but that little fly screen did actually a pretty good job deflecting, especially when I crouched down a bit. This lightweight bike is amazingly gentle with inexperienced riders, responsive to the slightest shift of the hip, and forgives rider errors (such as miscalculated speed in a turn) much easier than any other bike I have ever ridden. Just lean a bit more, and trust it finding the best way through.

Low speed maneuverability, turning and parking the bike was a piece of cake as well. Overall handling of this motorcycle was as easy as riding a scooter (I hope that Triumph owners won't cringe too much given that comparison...). Being able to put my feet flat on the ground (something I was not able to accomplish on Roger's F650GS) added to the overall confidence.

For me this motorcycle delivers a very sensual riding experience, that only few bikes are capable of (Ducati may come close to that.) changing my opinion from a matter of want, to a matter of need. EUREKA!

After returning from down under I was antsy the whole work week, which did not go unnoticed by the spousal unit. Hence the best husband of all schlepped me into a Triumph dealership determined to find a cure for my suffering. The healing came with a big bang, but not in a good way. The overall cost for a 2012 Triumph Street Triple including bare necessity farkles (fly screen, frame sliders, luggage options, heated grips, cigarette lighter socket, engine and radiator cover etc.), would sum up to an amount that I simply cannot afford. Unfortunately for me, there are no reasonably priced used ones around. So I will let it go for now, and put it in the back of my mind.

Good things come to those who wait while I continue my research on this particular model. There are a few open questions left: Is the tank hole such a nuisance like it seems to be with the Bonnie? Does the instrument panel have a fuel gauge (I couldn't spot it.). And given the fuel consumption how much of an all-rounder can it be?

Meanwhile, my Sportster is kicking its heels (wheels), waiting to be released from its prison, and I am more than happy to oblige.

Triple Fun: Beaches, Bikes and scenic Byways

A room with a view. Despite certain spirits consumed the night before I woke up reasonably early to enjoy a wonderful sunrise.

We all seem to look a little hangover in that picture but that changed (somewhat) during breakfast.

After tea Geoff showed us his backyard, the views, where he launches the boat... I can assure you there was no bragging involved.

Roger and me. Honey, I can explain everything. The mate in his Sunday's best, all stripes and fluffy slippers.

Ok, that was too much information. Moving on, and coming to the absolute highlight of this weekend, and the posting that my dear readers are probably waiting for. Thank you for your patience!

There were two pairs of shiny keys waiting for me. One belonged to a Triumph Street Triple 675, the other one to Jennie's Mazda convertible.

(All moto-pics courtesy of Geoff)

Oh yeah, baby!

 Rogey in action!

 I can't believe it. That's not real. I am not here, it's all a dream.

 No, it's not. Pinch me again, and I'll kill you dead.

 Geoff taking close ups from the seat of the Mazda.

 Watching Roger, and mimicking his line.

 I was doing pretty well (or so I tend to believe).

22km of pure bliss.

This bike is incredible. (And I hear both guys say in sync: I told you so!) Nimble 170kg, a perfect seating position, anticipating every move, forgiving when taking it a bit too hot. Oh, it was GOOD. It was AWESOME. It was... better than... SEX even. Oh, well close enough, anyway. Yet again I am at a loss of words. It can't get any better than this.

Note to self: Need to ask Bobskoot, if we should go buy Street Triples. I know he loves them, too. Maybe we can cut a deal, if we were to buy two?

We stopped for coffee at the Whangapoua Store, where we chatted along with Steve Ferguson, store owner, rider (on motorized and pedal bikes) and avid blogger himself, who made the poor choice to live here all year round (that is when he isn't riding the Tour de France or the likes).

 Two like-minded spirits

Meanwhile, unnoticed by Geoff, I checked out the Mazda, and made myself again familiar with driving stick. Not only that I hadn't had a manual gearshift car in decades, it was also all on the wrong left side. However, I must be a natural (and a lefty anyway), because not once did I stall the engine.

 Looking good!

Geoff was back on his bike faster than I could say 'Let's Go', assuming lead position with Roger following closely. They were a great team! I bet, they made it back to Coromandel Town in under ten minutes, while I took the time to snap some pics of the vistas. If you ever come to New Zealand, these roads are a must, see for yourselves.

Feeding time was near, and we were all in the mood for some smoked delicacies. Roger picked up some goodies for Terry, and soon we had to part, this time for good.

It was tough to see him ride away on his red lightning. I will dearly miss his company.

 Good bye, Rogey and ride safely!

Meanwhile, my Tour de Coromandel wasn't finished yet, Geoff had some more seeing, and sighting in store for me. This is Coromandel Town Center.

 

 And its police station.

Another view from the James' house.

We visited Mike Cogswell, a friend of Geoff's and local potter. Here, we admire his artwork.

 Meet the artist.

 Share his view.

 Where the master must get his inspiration.

The road took us further up north, where it gives way to gravel, and the people are... well, different.

 Here you will find serenity in a Buddhist convent, if you like. Or live a hippie life.

 Or buy supplies in the last store before Nowhere.

Jennie and I were bathing in the late afternoon light before we turned around to have a final cup of tea at the James' house.

My heart is overflowing with joy and sadness at the same time as I have to leave those wonderful people and this miracle place. My head is still full of impressions from the people I met, and the land I have traveled, the roads, the green, the water, the beaches and the weather playing along so well.

And to make it extra hard on me, Coromandel says its own goodbyes to me in paramount pictures.

I make a vow to myself, that I will return one fine day. It has happened before, it will happen again.

Thank you Roger and family. Thank you, Geoff and Jennie. Thanks to the colleagues, bosses and coworkers, and all those wonderful people I had the pleasure and the fortune to meet on my journey.