Suzuki Hayabusa Wayne and Jo Nimmo Honda CBR954 Paul Southwell
Yamaha R1 Geoff Jones (leader) Honda CBR929 Ben Warden
MV Brutale Bronwyn Manifold Honda CBR600 Jason Miller (1st ride)
MV 750 F4 Dave Ward Yamaha TRX850 Peter Rykenberg
BMW R1100S Darryl Chivers Yamaha TRX850 Michael Dibb (1st ride)
Triumph 955i Mark Easterbrook Honda CBR1100X Aaron Karmiste
Yamaha YZF1000 Trevor Harris (rear rider) Honda VTR SP Neville Maggs
Suzuki GSXR1000 Danny Kosinski
Yamaha R6 Joel Haley (2nd ride) 17 bikes, 18 people
As time passes, a ride with the Club becomes a scattered collection of memories, memories of little events, in isolation forgettable, but as a group, form something memorable. You forget that the roads were varied, the countryside dry and desolate, barely another vehicle on the road. You only remember that you were having a good time. Functionally it was a pretty standard ride: we started and stopped at the right time, did a regulation 350 km for the day, had your standard police incident, and got home at a reasonable time. Nevertheless, there were lots of little things that made the ride more memorable.
For instance, as I wheeled the bike out of the garage gripping the left hand handlebar, a large, hairy huntsman spider headed for my gloveless hand - then tried to disappear. I wasn’t going to going anywhere until this “little thing” was sorted out. A surprise of this nature, mid-corner, could be uncomfortable.
While filling up at Whittlesea I could hear the mobile singing away, but pumping petrol was more important at the time. A minute or two later Danny rang again to report that he was running late after his pillion seat and underseat contents had abandoned the good ship Suzuki at the start of the Eastern Freeway. It was only when a passing motorist informed Danny of his distribution antics did he become aware and head back and retrieve the seat, only slightly scuffed. He would catch up with us at morning tea in Kyneton.
By this stage I had really would up the woman pump attendant, first by not taking my helmet off when filling the tank, secondly not getting off the bike, and thirdly agreeing with everything she said including that she was within her rights to turn the pump off next time. A few minutes later I absent mindedly wandered over to retrieve my helmet sitting on top of a pump, mobile to ear talking to Danny, deservedly copping a screeching blast over the intercom.
First corner, marking the Wallan Road turnoff, I found myself all alone, the ride nowhere to be seen. Rear rider? Presumably Trevor had blatted past when I was informing late starters, Wayne and Joanne, who the rear rider was. Late? Not because of the 10 am “early’ start but because of a close call of the constabulary kind way back in Bulla. They looked like a “fairly respectable middle aged couple” and were let off with a warning. Luckily I had listened to Geoff and knew the route, but it still took until Wallan lights to catch the group.
Left just out of Wallan onto the Romsey Road and I realise for the first time just how big the group is, with quite a few irregulars and a couple of first time riders. This was despite the very hot conditions – mid to high thirties with high humidity, building on Saturday’s 40.4 degrees. A minute later, cresting the hill on the blind left hander, gravel and bikes going everywhere, no harm done.
Picking up the Mia Mia road from Lancefield Geoff takes us down the second turnoff to Kyneton. At a Y junction there appears to be no corner markers so I stop. Later I notice a couple of bikes in the shade over the crest and around the corner. New guy Michael, yellow and black NSW plates, on a red (well loved, smoke blowing) TRX approaches the Y junction at an inappropriate speed, blasting through the give way, no hope of stopping. I motion a couple of others to go quietly.
Kyneton BP for fuel after a 105 km. Heat taking its toll and we lose Darryl. Dave and Bronwyn also depart (work commitments), but not before we get a good squiz at Bron’s new toy.
Leaving town we pick up former President and long time member, Hans Wurster, on his Kawasaki ZX12R. He tags along.
Near Spring Hill, I wiz past Geoff at the side of the road and quickly back track. A puncture in his near-new, hard compound rear tyre is the cause of this unseemly delay. A cartridge of carbon dioxide quickly helps identify what appears to be a nail hole. Like a well oiled team, Geoff did the reaming, Ben did the plugging, and Pete Rykenberg did the pumping with our new kit pump. A couple more cartridges and we back on the road, in a very respectable 15 minutes or so. At Trentham we regrouped while Geoff searched out a servo for the last 10 psi, returning across country.
On the Ballan Road, Michael slots in behind and we make good time. A large pimple mid-corner just before the Blackwood big dipper sees my bike thump and bang and Michael spear across my mirror in a cloud of dust. A quick Uey at the bridge sees Michael heading off again, with Hans on his tail. Fortunately there was an emergency exit road (a driveway) mid-corner, now featuring a wide and squiggly skid mark well up the hill. All carry on as if nothing has happened though a couple of corners later Michael did enquire if I had seen what had happened. Apparently, after seeing my bike move around he grabbed a handful of brakes, further decreasing his chances of negotiating the corner, thankfully the escape exit magically appearing.
Now, quite delayed, rather than heading for the Brisbane Ranges directly, we diverted down the Myrniong freeway by-pass and onto the Western Highway to Bacchus Marsh for lunch and fuel. I think Hans continued on to Ballan and the Nimmos stayed on the Freeway as home (Melton) beckoned.
Rounding a high speed sweeper on the fabulous Myrniong loop I braked suddenly and discreetly passed Peter Rykenberg negotiating his way out of trouble with the local unmarked, maybe off-duty constable. He was out of uniform and had no paperwork or cap. Double white lines may be a “good” result, or possibly nothing even better. Of course, Danny followed at a not too discreet distance behind the unfolding drama, observing the “reckless” driving of the pursuing vehicle, unaware it was Mr Plod!
After a few stories were relived at the servo, we headed for Bacchus Marsh Main Street and food. Geoff and I headed to the furtherest away milk bar (in the 38 degree temperature, according to the proprietor) while the others walked straight into the bakery. Neville and Jason headed for the big sticks not long afterwards.
That left a hard core of riders looking for more adventure. Sure enough the Ballan Hill Climb (Mt Wallace) was in even worse condition than last time, half the road missing at the second gear hairpin, where once only a gravelly pothole had tested us.
A quiet cruise (not!) through the Brisbane Ranges and onwards through Anakie saw us turn right heading for Maude. The bridge – tipped in at speed – saw me thrown onto the other side of the road due to an unseen mid-corner bump, but I kept the power on running wide, after good visibility indicated no on-coming cars. I corner marked at Maude, the group now in tight formation. A couple of kilometres north of Maude a huge wallow in the road would have bottomed previous (less stiff) fork springs but negotiated well (well, better than some others, by all accounts). Refuel and drink at Meredith. A very well endowed, attractive, lone silver Celica driver proved quite distracting, delaying the ride leave.
We headed across the Durdidwarrah Road, then back to Anakie and across to Werribbee. Alas, two kilometres of banked up cars from the first roundabout saw the group riding up the outside of the cars (or inside to avoid the double white lines). We regrouped on the other side of the roundabout. After it was noted we had passed an unmarked Falcon in the line, it was determined to make haste. Most of us headed for the Freeway and heavy city bound traffic.
Thanks Geoff for an interesting ride providing lots of memories.
Ben Warden
(Honda CBR929)