Idling...

As you've probably guessed I don't have a lot of time to dedicate to motorcycles lately, and I'm about to have even less for the foreseeable future. Add to that the start of the crappy season just around the corner and I might as well put up a sign that says "see you in the spring!".

The problem with not having time to wrench or ride is that you start thinking. And ideas are very dangerous things!

Apply this to the Sportster: obviously I was really bummed when my bike was stolen, but other than feeling numb right after it happened, I stopped thinking about it pretty quickly and, I must confess, I really haven't missed it all that much, which surprised me more than anyone, considering how many miles I'd done with that thing and how much I liked it.

Now that I don't have time to wrench or ride any of my bikes, something strange happens as my focus begins to shift.

I started reading about Ducati's new Scrambler and thinking "ooh, I fancy me a bit o'that!"

then I read some more and found out that only the official dealerships/workshops can reset error messages and warning lights that come up on the digital display, and that made me very sad for the state of current motorcycles.

All this excessive and slavish deference to electronics is ruining motorcycles! Motorcycles are supposed to be simple, essential - nay - elemental machines. To corrupt them with sensors, switches and wires that the owner can't get into is not only madness, it is offensive and it is turning motorcyclists into a bunch of sissies too afraid to get their hands dirty and too scared to ride something that doesn't have ABS, traction control, assisted this-and-that. Pah!

So, naturally I retreated into familiar territory and started looking at old photos of my Sportster and think "man, what a cool bike that was..." As always, older is better.

So, what is the point of any of this? Probably nothing, probably just idle ramblings.

Probably...

Motorcycles belong in the wild; go ride!

Our lady of the sacred Fastback

This one speaks for itself I think, Alessio's beautiful Fastback:

Handlebar vs. handlebars

After riding the Norton with the new handlebar, I can make a proper comparison with the clip-ons I had before, and I can say this:
pretty though it was, trying to handle the bike with the clip-ons was like trying to write calligraphy while wearing boxing gloves.
With the new handlebar, it's like shooting a rifle with a hair trigger.

the Campotosto Mystic Trip 2 - "Shamans of the Astral Plane": a report.

Much like last year, we covered A LOT of ground for this trip, our course meandered through so many small towns, hills, valleys, forests and proper mountains, one after the other, until you no longer know where you really are, and the passage of time feels like the memory of a half-remembered song.

As motorcycles and riders started to resonate with each other and everything else around them, that's when we gradually emerged onto the psychic trail and the real trip began. There are no signposts along the way, but plenty of signs, markers and animal spirit guides like the white boar. Far out man...

Once again, only three Shamans rode out to the mountain lake, perhaps such a mystical trip has a component of numerology? Perhaps next year we can make it seven then?

Sandro joined us on his perfectly stock Honda CBR600F, tires down to the canvas and motor oil a little past its prime, but I'm so glad he could come with us.

Witold, still in considerable pain from a broken throttle hand, chose an incredibly futuristic Honda CN250 Spazio, duly thrashed it and was faster than a lot of sports bikes we encountered along the way:

He is the Psychopomp! He manifested himself to guide us across layers and ripples of reality! Make an offering of the sacred herb to him, and all will be well:

Here are some more snapshots from along the way, who knows where we were!

Who's a good boy? YOU'RE A GOOD BOY!!

Here are some more from the side of my head.

Taking in the view at Salto:

Getting things moving:

Grassy lanes? No problem:

It's ok, this doesn't mean what it means in Britain:

Offroading on the Spazio, not for the fainthearted:

Behold, the majesty of this wonderful lake and the Holy Mountains that surround it:

As for the Norton, this outing and the short round trip to the mountain rally last month, made for a good shakedown and real-world test of the newly assembled top end.

I can safely say that this engine has never run so well (and that clutch upgrade is working a real treat, lemme tell ya).

Even Witold had to concede that it sounds spectacular, does not burn oil and feels (even at a distance) purposeful and precise. Hats off to SRM, once again.

Some of you may know what I'm talking about here, you spend the whole day on a motorcycle, especially a British classic with their unrestricted exhausts, and by the time you go to sleep you can't help but notice this peculiar ringing in your ears, part droning sound, part echo, yet very present. You may think it's the effect of all those hours exposed to the loud exhaust but what you've actually tuned into is the eternal cosmic cymbal that's always ringing but only a few can hear, sending out wave after cosmic wave of mystical revelations.

Until next time, safe trips to everyone.