Old Irons 2023 - a report.

So much of what's happened with the Rising Star lately is not what I had in mind. That's fine, but I did have to alter my plans significantly and that's not something I enjoy. What I do enjoy is getting the luggage ready, getting the bike ready and getting far enough away from the daily routes to feel that I'm on a trip. 

Instead of bringing the Rising Star back to the Monolith from uncle Fester's garage, I headed out to the mountains once again. With the first important improvements completed, this ride was pretty much a test ride, which I realize isn't ideal but for various reasons (and much to my annoyance, believe me) we ended right up against the rally and almost didn't make it. Fester worked hard to make many people happy and other bikes ready, and I appreciate that a lot. The first thing I tried was the front brake, which has definitely improved and knowing that it is more powerful and more reliable not only gives you added safety and confidence as you ride, but also allows you to ride this bike in a different way. Instead of threading the needle by favoring ultra smooth and precise lines, and slowing down well before a corner as I would do before, I can now make use of trail braking to optimize corners and have more fun: as the bike whips around a left-hander I can picture how small it must look from the outside, its gas tank almost like a bullet flying through the air, my view unobstructed by instruments of any kind, just the top of the small headlight and the road ahead.

As I mentioned before, this machine is considerably lighter than a stock A50 model. This should make you realize that all those pioneers who starting chopping and bobbing motorcycles way back when, were actually in pursuit of performance and better handling. All the "easy rider" imagery came later and to this day it is debatable whether it was a good thing or not. But for our purposes I encourage you to think of the Rising Star as a chopper, yes, but as a light and nimble bike with exceptional handling just as much.
Let's take a closer look at the new oil tank mount and other fixes by uncle Fester.

The lower bracket itself is comprised of a short, asymmetrical curved tube similar to the two at the top, welded to a 90 degree bracket that was tapped and shaped to fit behind the existing support for the battery case. It does away with the two small nuts that were previously behind the battery box and were a real pain to get at; instead, the battery box can now be secured directly to the new bracket, which also matches the battery support to create a 'U' shaped routing for the wiring harness: Genius. 

This is perhaps the most impressive part of the new system as room in this part of the frame is extremely scarce; yet Fester managed to almost pour the metal into shape and fabricated a sturdy support that actually pushes the oil tank upwards. The solution for the top mounts was lining up the two curved tubes within the frame's triangle in that particular point, and to angle them in such a way that the oil tank ends up being in exactly the same spatial relation to the frame as it was before. I thought this would have been impossible to achieve, but I'm delighted I was wrong.

It was instantly noticeable how much easier and more pleasant it is to ride without the oil tank rattling and clanging away on the old broken mount underneath the seat. It's true that the new rubber mountings seem rather soft and if you push the oil tank with your hand it can almost bounce around (which delights everyone and elicits big smiles all 'round), but in reality it works perfectly. I put my hand on the tank a few times when I was riding and I could feel it was steady and staying put.
One thing I didn't ask for, but that my man took upon himself to spend time and effort on, is this extension to the kickstand so it's easier to deploy. This was never an issue for me, I just reached down with my hand and flung it out, but many people have cried and whimpered and whined about this so I guess they're all happy now. Babies.

Now, I must confess this really is much easier to use, and it's yet another custom touch that I'm happy to have on the bike.

As always, a huge thank you to my buddy who once again made this motorcycle better with this big custom job.

I had other things on my to-do list, so this is not over. The next part of this upgrade will probably have to wait until the end of the year, but it will be worth the wait.

But let's talk about the trip! My sixth attendance at the Old Irons/fèri vecchi rally, and the second time on the Rising Star, albeit in much improved form.

The difference between touring these territories on the Rising Star and riding any other bike up here is undeniable: on the hardtail you're really tripping out and everything feels more special.

I was concerned that the new handlebar would have corrupted the aesthetics of the Rising Star as I originally conceived it, but after this trip I can say I needn't have worried: the new ergonomics are far better, the bike looks cooler... it's perfect.

The riding position is also far more comfortable: you sit either straight up or you can lean back and just cruise along. The new grips are also extremely comfortable and make for a much more pleasant experience.

I felt all of this as I was riding up the Licinese, then over to lake Turano, more winding country lanes towards lake Salto and a well deserved lunch break. I sat outside so I could look at the bike, I just couldn't stop thinking how cool it was that I was finally doing this again after six long years.

I refueled at that point and figured out it is returning 25km/l which is about 59mpg. I estimate range on a full tank, plus the extra reserve I always carry, to be 300km, not bad at all.

Ever since our earliest forays into the mountains, we have come across the Rascino plateau and gone back there several times; it is a very scenic waypoint towards Campotosto, so it is both useful and rewarding. What I hadn't realized however, is that there is a huge area (a sort of "Rascino Pradesh" if you will) just above where we usually pass through, with meadows and little thickets, small hills and beautiful views from every angle. It is definitely a trek to get up there but it is truly remote. I saw a few people who probably have ranches or farms up there, and they give you the kind of weary scowl that's reserved for intruders. There was a scout troop that had set up camp on a small hill and I must have been the most out of place thing they saw that day. I got as far as the paved road goes, about 15 minutes up, then decided it was better to turn back and continue on my way, something tells me outsiders aren't all that welcome up there.

Continuing across the oddly named "ellu vau" bridge, I rejoin familiar territory and press on towards Campotosto. Going up the SS80 on the Rising Star, nice and laid back, was a very different experience, but the bike was still plenty nimble on the twisty bits, and it was an absolute joy reaching the campsite on that thing.

Packing up the following day, I decided to put all the luggage on the sissy bar and I like the way it looked; it was also stable once I figured out the best way to strap it down, so I'm confident this can be a hassle-free arrangement for future trips.

I made my way down to Torninparte where I met Lele on the Sportster and his buddy Andrea on a murdered out Forty-Eight.

We also ran into Francesco on his modern Thruxton 900 and together we climbed up towards the Campo Imperatore plateau. I had to stop at one point when the oil pressure warning light came on, the only instrumentation on this bike. It was just too hot and the bike was struggling to make it up that road. I opened the oil tank to help it cool down and we waited for about 15 minutes before setting off again. I didn't have any problems after that, but that was sketchy (especially since the disaster that happened many years ago) and I'm beginning to wonder if I should fit an oil cooler and an oil filter kit, which would add a bit of oil in the circuit and help cool it down a bit. This oil tank doesn't hold as much oil as the original one would have (which is about 3 liters) so it's possible that it can't cool down enough to help the engine when it gets really hot, especially on climbs.
As we reach the rally, the last few miles are very tough going, the road surface is always a mess up there and the tarmac cracks and crumbles every winter, so you're left with a path that is somehow undulating and jagged at the same time, which fucking sucks. Needless to say it makes for a real test of how much you want to attend the rally on a hardtail, and I nearly lost my luggage because I was bouncing around so much. That first cold beer when we arrive is a real reward. At this point we begin to run into old friends and we catch up and talk some nonsense (but also some important things, that mean more than most people realize as friends check in with each other, and a few words and a big hug are very true things) as we walk around and look at the bikes. I had the impression this was not as huge an event as it got to be a few years ago, and I would say it was probably the quietest yet (I like that!). Some very nice rides as usual, let's take a look:

That Triumph Speed Triple is a bit out of place at a rally like this one, but it holds a special place in my heart as I nearly bought one (black though) when it came out. In general, there were some Japanese and Austrian bikes that just didn't belong there, same goes for so many cars and camper vans that just seem to miss the point: this is a chopper rally. I'll make an exception for this particular truck, all the way from Germany no less:

Above, a nice evo Sportster chopper (another one further down, spotted on our way back to Rome), and here is another evo Sportster with full custom frame, no front brake, super narrow front end, expensive primary cover and lots of restraint resulting in a super clean build:

Here is that other evo Sportster, proof that you can build a really sweet ride with very little effort. Something like a mid-90s 883 custom (with the 21″ front wheel) would be ideal for this:

Always bring extra fuel; you will need it sooner or later.

I noticed a lot of guys coming and going, with their gear strapped tight to their bikes showing very good luggage discipline, something that betrays experience and that tells you these aren't weekend posers.

I want to do better with my own luggage, it seems every time I get to do this I figure out some little detail that makes the next outing that much better. Maybe something as small as how to feed a strap around the luggage, or that one item that really isn't indispensable after all, stuff like that.

It may seem obvious and I'm probably repeating myself here, but choppers really are something else, the experience of riding one of these things to a wild destination and camping out of your bike is something you can't feel on any other vehicle.

We set up our tents much closer to the action than we did a couple of years ago, once again Lele's bright orange tent is a real bonus as it's so easy to find among all the other ones:

For the first time, the weather was actually mild during the day and it didn't rain at all, not a single drop. Usually the sun beats you over the head and then at some point the wind brings with it rain, either in the afternoon, during the night or the following morning. Not this time though, so the rest of our afternoon was spent just hanging out and eventually lining up to go buy meat skewers and sausages (and enormous biscuits). As we stand around the barbecues, it gradually gets dark, until an almost full supermoon shines down, brighter by the minute with the same progressive effect of a surging chord from a church organ, until the final effect is revealed: the perfect canvas of the dark sky, moonlight to make our righteous rides stand out from the grassland and a chilly breeze to make it all feel that much more real. We revel in the dazzling splendor of the night sky that's reflected off of our gas tanks' shiny paint, as the band plays the classics (Motörhead, Sabbath, etc.) and people enjoy themselves and "sing" along. Strangely it all comes to a close at a very civilized hour and by the time we turn in for the night, there is quiet and tranquility over the encampment such as I've not experienced before. One thing that's noticeably lacking though is warmth: we all spent about an hour almost shivering in our tents before we built up enough body heat to keep ourselves warm. As Andrea put it when I asked him the following morning "oh it was really cold for about an hour, but then I passed out and it was fine after that!".

Daybreak comes and it's time to pack up with no time to waste; this rally is a small miracle that relies on people understanding one thing: we ain't supposed to be here, so if we wanna keep doing it, we have to leave no trace and get out of there nice and early. 

What a view! Right outside my tent; I look around and start putting stuff away.

Very orange, can't miss it.

Good show everyone, see you next time.

We decided to head down thinking we'd be sitting down for breakfast in no time, but unfortunately because of some running competition/event (up the mountains? Who the hell does that?!) our only road down was closed and we had to add a massive detour to our morning, meaning our reserves (fuel and otherwise) were put to the test. We carry extra fuel, but we're going to have to carry coffee as well, at least to keep us going for the start of the day. Finally a gas station, and shortly after a coffee shop to make things right again. After that, Andrea extends his trip and heads out to see family and friends elsewhere while Lele and I go very much the same way we did last time, to slowly descend towards Rome and back into a heavy, humid heat.

This impressive little bike handled this trip so well, with no breakdowns and no tantrums despite a throttle cable that is probably a hair too short (you can tell at idle, there's something not quire right, I'll have to make a new one) and the four outermost head nuts needing to be retightened (thanks to Lele and his 15mm box wrench), absolutely no issues. There was plenty of open road to appreciate how the bike truly runs and make a cool-headed evaluation of the whole machine, from the cycle parts to the engine. The frame is exceptional, and this has been immediately apparent from day one but it just never goes unnoticed. Find me something that handles better than the Rising Star, I dare you. The new handlebar seems to make flicking the bike from side to side in the tight stuff even easier, which may seem counterintuitive given the shape, yet somehow it works and this bike is a real riot to ride on something like the SS80. Amazing. The modified exhausts are such a huge improvement over the way it was before, you can actually enjoy the ride and the sound is exactly right. There is a point in the rev range where if you back off the throttle ever so slightly the engine does this sort of "kurr-gurr-GURRR....." little growl as the bike rolls on, not as if weightless but as if there were no wind resistance or friction with the road. It's something quite peculiar that I've not encountered on any other motorcycle.

By the time I kill the engine and get off the bike my butt is sore but I think to myself "this used to be a pile of parts on a shelf, and we've made an amazing machine out of that". This special contraption deserves much more than to be stored away, waiting for the next adventure. Time to get some wrenches out.