Tuesdays don’t you love them? The day after Monday with the sun out, everyone still has four full days of work to go and all the Colonel and I can think of is how we were going to burn off two and a half tanks of ozone depleting fluid sitting on the wall of the Mobil servo at the big junction drinking an iced coffee, reminiscing over Neka’s runny nose ride waiting to see if anyone else was going to show for a mid week ridingSA spur of the moment, before depressing the electric starter buttons.
With bikes and riders full of fluids we left the concrete apron to the bitumen that provides our playground for the day. With Bon Scott still reverberating from breakfast radio in the mind with the distinctive AC/DC “….Oi, Oi, Oi, see me ride out of the sunset on your, colour TV screen, out for all I can get, if you know what I mean….” Hit the 100 K sign and open the throttle
“Oi, Oi, Oi, T-N-T, I’m dynamite”
the single cans on the Yammie and Aprilia would be music to Bon’s ears pipe to pipe through the tunnel and on to the Crafers off ramp. A cursory glance to the parking spot near the Crafers shops showed no bikes parked up at the second meeting point, so right at the roundabout from there it was over the freeway and down the road to Longwood.
The colonel and I made a left at the Leslie Creek road to Mylor then right to the Echunga – Mackie road. Feeding the fuel to the four and twin we sprinted, ignoring the posted limits though the looping apexes the road was claimed. It was an obstacle free ride that had the colonel and I slowing for the Echunga limit and hitting the throttle again once past the pub. We ripped along the road to Mackie and decided to retrace yesterday’s effort out to Meadows and down the Bull Creek.
With the 100 K signage past it was a blaze down the Greenhill’s straight down two gears on to the Meadows road plying the octane to the pistons up through the gears until the twisties where it was back to third and on with the throttle. It is a great fast combination of direction changes, feeling the wind whistle past the visor soon has you smiling and approaching the 80 K sign before the tee on the outskirts of Meadows.
It is back down to first and a sharp left hand hook that has the right hand wrenching the grip, first gear plays out with three thousand before red line but already over the posted K’s you kick it up two gears and drop some to keep it legal or in the Klink’s case down due to modified gear shift. As soon a the 100 k sign is past the throttle is again applied and our trusty machines are heading for the Creek with the bike on 5 to 6 thou, cans wailing, with corners flowing rhythmically it was a perfect day and a trip down the creek that did not need a break of speed as we had a green light run that continued through to Strath, the first stop for the day. We cool our heals and topped up the tanks for the next stage of the run.
This was to include a right royal blast back out the Ashbourne road another green light run that was ripping the rubber from the wheels; we really need an alternative to tyre wear. We wound out the beasts along the blacktop that brought us to a left turn on to the Goolwa road where we continued the frisky pace through to the Mount Compass turn off via Nangkita. At Mount Compass we took the right onto the Victor road and sedately motored back towards Willunga. Just before the big descent it was a left turn then off towards Pages Flat a great back road that although a little bumpy provides one with a mid gear high revving approach to riding option. This had the duo spitting some of the loose stuff out from under the rear tyre on some of the apexes that just added a little more excitement to an already obstreperous rip along the back road to Myponga.
We passed the old church building, through the “Y” junction then found ourselves parking up at the general store for a fag and a rest stop. It was a typical early December day edging into the high twenties and you could feel the effects the southern ozone hole as the sun gnawed into exposed skin. We sat observing the activities of the small southern town and the only two bikes on the road we had seen since all day were ours. The road beckoned our attention, we act in accordance with leathers zippered and starters depressed we made the road our own again. South on the road to Yankalilla it was an almost obstacle free ride apart from the last 3 K’s when we were stuck behind the blight of the biker in the form of a four cylinder Japanese made, I’ve been everywhere stickered over laden with everything one will never use but taken just incase two spares on a already top heavy roof rack campervan, piloted by sir Les with dame Edna navigating. Fortunately they were heading on to Normanville and we took a left turn through to the Inman valley. As it turned out the campervans cousin in the form of a old farmer in a 90’s Ford was marring our progress for another couple of K’s but the first straight soon had him dispatched and we were free to ring it out through the gears again with a nice fast road in front we did just that. Klink and I had a super run down this little stretch of pristine countryside fragmented only by the bridge with the corrugated approach and some scattered wooden logs that some inconsiderate derrr brain had unscrupulously dropped in the middle of the road for about two K’s. We managed to avoid what could have been a nasty undoing of our happy jaunt south to the underage drinking capital of the state, Victor Harbour.
Victor was its usual weekday self, fossils enjoying a marvelous sun drenched day, couples relaxing on the lawned areas, seagulls scattering remnants of left over meals from the tables of the Crown. The colonel and I parked up at the bike spot with only three other machines a cruiser, MV and a 996. With the worms biting it was a bee line to the bakery for great food and a stretch out at the lunch table. Having enjoyed a half hour break the urge for speed was working its way back into the fore of the cerebral matter.
Out side the MV with the cruiser had cut for it, the 996 was just loading on the chick and announcing to the square that termies sound awesome when bolted to an Italian L nitey degree twin. Klink and I were readying our self for a quick fuel stop when this fossil pulled in on a Virago. Stoked with the world and just being a rebel with arthritis on his black pride and joy. A few pleasantries exchanged, no law on the road was the word from the route he had just traveled, so we were off to the servo for another tank of fuel.
With victuals for the belly and bike out of the way we headed north on the Victor road to the Myponga turn, where we were on the pipe and slicing through the afternoon stillness. On this road there is no real tight stuff to contend with summoning an open invitation to put a bit of our fresh tank full into the atmosphere and do our bit for global warming. There was only one obstruction in the form of a Cat service truck we passed at the first straight and while the bike was on read line it was worth giving it a little extra in the next gear just to make sure the mega-cage was well and truly burnt. Klink’s Micron howling in the upper rev range was sweet and the Prillers titanium barking a guttural note made the ride to the Myponga road junction even more pleasurable.
We zipped across to the Sellicks Hill road and with the knowledge from the fossil at Victor rode with out the need to observe the instrument panel. We passed to candy cars at the bottom of the hill by then we were on the straight and they were heading the other way so all was taken care of by our positive karma. We ticked the engines over in a lower rev range on the straights to Willunga via a right turn on to a rest stop at the creek just east of the town under the shade of a river gum we sat, odometer registering a tad over 300 kilometers traveled so far.
Klink attended to business on the mobile and I attended to the business of nature. With all things in order we remounted and had the twin and four back up to the speed limit on the road to McLaren flat through to Kangarilla, passing a couple of heavy duty road base carriers. With that task achieved it was some pleasant bends that had us keeping the pace up to the 50K signage at Kangarilla.
Once on the road to Clarendon it was back up in the torque range tipping in on the tight left, right with a nice lean angles throughout a clear run to the ninety degree left, down to second and amble through town to the Blackwood road right, temperate on the throttle up a gear and doing the bike trundle on that tight twisted indirect blacktop to Corro valley. 60 K’s through Corro up Winns road through boring Blackwood and down the new Belair road enjoying hitting a little extra throttle through hairpins and short straights on the closing kilometers of a tremendous Tuesday.
Back in the city limits the sun was shining, people were caging the urban tar at the mandatory limits, amber, red, green commands compliance as the snarl of our exhaust cans announced the return of two riding SA leather clad road combatants heading home for a welcome dismount after a 348 kilometer campaign to repossess some of the Fleurieu Peninsula’s best bitumen playground.
Desmo
Desmo.
With bikes and riders full of fluids we left the concrete apron to the bitumen that provides our playground for the day. With Bon Scott still reverberating from breakfast radio in the mind with the distinctive AC/DC “….Oi, Oi, Oi, see me ride out of the sunset on your, colour TV screen, out for all I can get, if you know what I mean….” Hit the 100 K sign and open the throttle
“Oi, Oi, Oi, T-N-T, I’m dynamite”
the single cans on the Yammie and Aprilia would be music to Bon’s ears pipe to pipe through the tunnel and on to the Crafers off ramp. A cursory glance to the parking spot near the Crafers shops showed no bikes parked up at the second meeting point, so right at the roundabout from there it was over the freeway and down the road to Longwood.
The colonel and I made a left at the Leslie Creek road to Mylor then right to the Echunga – Mackie road. Feeding the fuel to the four and twin we sprinted, ignoring the posted limits though the looping apexes the road was claimed. It was an obstacle free ride that had the colonel and I slowing for the Echunga limit and hitting the throttle again once past the pub. We ripped along the road to Mackie and decided to retrace yesterday’s effort out to Meadows and down the Bull Creek.
With the 100 K signage past it was a blaze down the Greenhill’s straight down two gears on to the Meadows road plying the octane to the pistons up through the gears until the twisties where it was back to third and on with the throttle. It is a great fast combination of direction changes, feeling the wind whistle past the visor soon has you smiling and approaching the 80 K sign before the tee on the outskirts of Meadows.
It is back down to first and a sharp left hand hook that has the right hand wrenching the grip, first gear plays out with three thousand before red line but already over the posted K’s you kick it up two gears and drop some to keep it legal or in the Klink’s case down due to modified gear shift. As soon a the 100 k sign is past the throttle is again applied and our trusty machines are heading for the Creek with the bike on 5 to 6 thou, cans wailing, with corners flowing rhythmically it was a perfect day and a trip down the creek that did not need a break of speed as we had a green light run that continued through to Strath, the first stop for the day. We cool our heals and topped up the tanks for the next stage of the run.
This was to include a right royal blast back out the Ashbourne road another green light run that was ripping the rubber from the wheels; we really need an alternative to tyre wear. We wound out the beasts along the blacktop that brought us to a left turn on to the Goolwa road where we continued the frisky pace through to the Mount Compass turn off via Nangkita. At Mount Compass we took the right onto the Victor road and sedately motored back towards Willunga. Just before the big descent it was a left turn then off towards Pages Flat a great back road that although a little bumpy provides one with a mid gear high revving approach to riding option. This had the duo spitting some of the loose stuff out from under the rear tyre on some of the apexes that just added a little more excitement to an already obstreperous rip along the back road to Myponga.
We passed the old church building, through the “Y” junction then found ourselves parking up at the general store for a fag and a rest stop. It was a typical early December day edging into the high twenties and you could feel the effects the southern ozone hole as the sun gnawed into exposed skin. We sat observing the activities of the small southern town and the only two bikes on the road we had seen since all day were ours. The road beckoned our attention, we act in accordance with leathers zippered and starters depressed we made the road our own again. South on the road to Yankalilla it was an almost obstacle free ride apart from the last 3 K’s when we were stuck behind the blight of the biker in the form of a four cylinder Japanese made, I’ve been everywhere stickered over laden with everything one will never use but taken just incase two spares on a already top heavy roof rack campervan, piloted by sir Les with dame Edna navigating. Fortunately they were heading on to Normanville and we took a left turn through to the Inman valley. As it turned out the campervans cousin in the form of a old farmer in a 90’s Ford was marring our progress for another couple of K’s but the first straight soon had him dispatched and we were free to ring it out through the gears again with a nice fast road in front we did just that. Klink and I had a super run down this little stretch of pristine countryside fragmented only by the bridge with the corrugated approach and some scattered wooden logs that some inconsiderate derrr brain had unscrupulously dropped in the middle of the road for about two K’s. We managed to avoid what could have been a nasty undoing of our happy jaunt south to the underage drinking capital of the state, Victor Harbour.
Victor was its usual weekday self, fossils enjoying a marvelous sun drenched day, couples relaxing on the lawned areas, seagulls scattering remnants of left over meals from the tables of the Crown. The colonel and I parked up at the bike spot with only three other machines a cruiser, MV and a 996. With the worms biting it was a bee line to the bakery for great food and a stretch out at the lunch table. Having enjoyed a half hour break the urge for speed was working its way back into the fore of the cerebral matter.
Out side the MV with the cruiser had cut for it, the 996 was just loading on the chick and announcing to the square that termies sound awesome when bolted to an Italian L nitey degree twin. Klink and I were readying our self for a quick fuel stop when this fossil pulled in on a Virago. Stoked with the world and just being a rebel with arthritis on his black pride and joy. A few pleasantries exchanged, no law on the road was the word from the route he had just traveled, so we were off to the servo for another tank of fuel.
With victuals for the belly and bike out of the way we headed north on the Victor road to the Myponga turn, where we were on the pipe and slicing through the afternoon stillness. On this road there is no real tight stuff to contend with summoning an open invitation to put a bit of our fresh tank full into the atmosphere and do our bit for global warming. There was only one obstruction in the form of a Cat service truck we passed at the first straight and while the bike was on read line it was worth giving it a little extra in the next gear just to make sure the mega-cage was well and truly burnt. Klink’s Micron howling in the upper rev range was sweet and the Prillers titanium barking a guttural note made the ride to the Myponga road junction even more pleasurable.
We zipped across to the Sellicks Hill road and with the knowledge from the fossil at Victor rode with out the need to observe the instrument panel. We passed to candy cars at the bottom of the hill by then we were on the straight and they were heading the other way so all was taken care of by our positive karma. We ticked the engines over in a lower rev range on the straights to Willunga via a right turn on to a rest stop at the creek just east of the town under the shade of a river gum we sat, odometer registering a tad over 300 kilometers traveled so far.
Klink attended to business on the mobile and I attended to the business of nature. With all things in order we remounted and had the twin and four back up to the speed limit on the road to McLaren flat through to Kangarilla, passing a couple of heavy duty road base carriers. With that task achieved it was some pleasant bends that had us keeping the pace up to the 50K signage at Kangarilla.
Once on the road to Clarendon it was back up in the torque range tipping in on the tight left, right with a nice lean angles throughout a clear run to the ninety degree left, down to second and amble through town to the Blackwood road right, temperate on the throttle up a gear and doing the bike trundle on that tight twisted indirect blacktop to Corro valley. 60 K’s through Corro up Winns road through boring Blackwood and down the new Belair road enjoying hitting a little extra throttle through hairpins and short straights on the closing kilometers of a tremendous Tuesday.
Back in the city limits the sun was shining, people were caging the urban tar at the mandatory limits, amber, red, green commands compliance as the snarl of our exhaust cans announced the return of two riding SA leather clad road combatants heading home for a welcome dismount after a 348 kilometer campaign to repossess some of the Fleurieu Peninsula’s best bitumen playground.
Desmo
Desmo.
