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View Full Version : Dirt biking at Anglesea (or, Loz scares shit out of self)


loz
05-06-2006, 05:50 PM
...So SammyQ picked me up at half past midnight last night to take me down to Anglesea to meet a few of his cousins and go dirt bike riding. I've done bugger-all of it and Matty and I have been looking around for cheap ways to get started, so this chance was too good to pass up.

We got to the house at about 2am and played pingpong for about an hour, which was f*cking stupid, then hit the sack to the strains of the pissheads next door belting out "time of your life" at the top of their lungs.

In the morning, we dragged the fleet of bikes out from under the house. A Honda XR250 (4-stroke), a 100cc Kwaka 2-stroke, and the two big daddies: a Honda CR500R and a Kwaka KX500 - both of them 500cc 2-stroke bollock-tearing weapons, both tools for the serious mentalist.

I was supposed to take one of the 500s, but I couldn't kick start the bastards for the life of me, and just punting it up and down the back road beside the house left me in such a state of utter terror that I gratefully switched for the 2fiddy and out we went.

We moseyed down to a national park set around a big quarry and belted off down a well-maintained dirt road. The 250 wasn't real interested in going much faster than about 100kmh, but when your arse is sliding around all over the road, that feels bloody quick to me.

Cam led us off down the first trail he found, a sandy, corrugated track with plenty of ruts, hills and some tight corners. I got into the swing of things pretty fast, feeling confident and yelling inside my helmet. Testing my luck, I belted past Cam who was struggling to keep the CR500R's wheels from spinning everywhere and tried setting the pace for a while.

Excitement alone got me into and out of some hairy situations, crossing the bike up, fishtailing wildly through corners and bouncing off the lumpy surface.... Then overconfidence bit as I started trying to slide in the sandy corners a bit more, the front tucked under and down I came in the widest, softest cushion of luxury sand on the whole trail. Heh heh. No harm done.

I took it a bit easier for a while after that, hanging back a bit but still getting stuck into the odd hill climb or descent, giggling as the arse end flew from side to side under power.

I'm told there were some magnificant views but I spent most of the time in bug-eyed focus on the track ahead: Woop, jump, on yer feet, now pick a rut, or should I skirt along the crown in the middle? How deep's that puddle? Stop sticking your knee out and leaning in, push the bike down into the corner under you and let the sides of the knobblies find a bit of grip. Give it some, slide the back, or cross it up on the rear brake for a laugh.

We spent a few hours out there before belting back up to the house, squinting to see through a bit of sleet. SammyQ had fried the 100cc Kwaka's gearbox and it was time to go back for a feed and a spanner session.

We went down to the local fish n chippy for lunch in Timmy's clapped-out stretch limo, which he and his brother bought to take around Australia on their Mullet-headed Bogan Tour of 2003. All class.

Cam and Sammy were mad keen to head out for another session in the late arvo, and I let myself get talked into it. Of course, because the 100 had dropped its guts, sammy had to take the 250, which left me with the KX500. I wasn't real keen on that thing. Why not?

Well, it was a f*cking animal. 500cc 2-stroke single, god knows how much power but it all arrived with the slightest tweak of the throttle. The highly-strung engine needed a touch of gas at all times to prevent it from stalling and the 15-minute process of kickstarting the bastard again. The clutch was one of those nothing, nothing, nothing, JESUS CHRIST affairs, it grabbed so quickly and with such ferocity that any gear change invariably resulted in a rear wheel spin or an invlountary, uncontrollable wheelie.

So in addition to being a complete dirt novice I was now riding a bike that needed to be babied to stop it stalling, but whose throttle was an on-off switch of vicious, nasty power that yanked on my shoulders and threatened to chuck me off the back in every gear. Yay.

I spent the following hour and a half in a constant state of boggle-eyed horror as the howling Kawasaki dragged me kicking and screaming up and down some vicious, slippery hill trails. It was getting dark, it was muddy and slippery, every muscle in my body was aching and I was petrified of my evil, posessed motorcycle in ways I've never felt before.

Christ knows how I managed not to dump the rabid f*cking thing but I was constantly terrified for the entire second session, swearing and muttering and praying into my chinpiece until, heart thumping, I skidded it back into the yard and threw the evil prick against a tree. Never again, I swear to you, will I ride a 500cc 2-stroke dirt bike. And, friends, if you ever get the chance I solemnly advise you to walk right the f*ck away.

And what about that feeling of utter desperate frustration when the rest of the guys have shot off down some trail and you're stuck in the middle of nowhere and the bad-tempered shit of a thing you're riding won't kick start?

Boot, boot, boot, pant, wheeze, boot, boot, boot, FAAAAAARK! Breathe deeply. Boot, boot, boot, scream, throw bike on side. Check phone, no reception, wonder if you'll ever make it back to the house, pick up bike, boot, boot, boot... Doesn't even feel like it's turning over. Start looking for trees to chop down to construct makeshift humpy, wonder how long you'll survive in the wilderness, swinging from tree to tree and gradually losing the ability to communicate other than by grunting... boot... ROAR! Thank f*ck!

Tell ya what I was nearly in tears of joy when I thumb-started the Hornet this morning and it leapt to life in about three milliseconds...

It was a pretty amazing day, thanks to SammyQ and his legendary horde of cousins for the heads-up and the loan of the bikes, the limo ride, etc etc etc. Roarin was gonna meet us and come show us his game, but couldn't make it in the end, so I'll get out and ride with him some other time.

Right now I'm exhausted and my whole body feels like it's gonna fall off, I bet I'll be a completely useless lump of jelly tomorrow at work, and my boots are completely encrusted in mud, that'll be a lovely look under my suit pants.

I've got a hell of a lot to learn about dirt riding, but I can definately see how it delivers a shitload of smiles per mile compared to the road. I'll be back out there soon I reckon, I just need to keep an eye out for cheap old bikes!

A couple of photos from the day:
http://web.mac.com/lozzobear/iWeb/Site/Library%202.html

I didn't take any photos of that *a@!%hole* kawasaki, but it's this one:
http://www.kawasakimotorcycle.org/kx500.php
http://www.reviewcentre.com/reviews51520.html

Over n out
Loz

glitch
06-06-2006, 11:49 AM
THAT is bloody HILARIOUS !!
Thanks for the post, what a great laugh.

Brings back momeries of the IT490 that used to live around the back of the house, vicious bastard it was...incl. the "double-hinged" frame and spindly forks. But the engine...OMG ! :lol: :lol:

Get Cheng to apply some of her "oriental massage" ....or some long,hot showers, like camping under the shower, banana-lounges are pretty waterproof.
Gotta read it again...

carver.
06-06-2006, 06:07 PM
We went down to the local fish n chippy for lunch in Timmy's clapped-out stretch limo, which he and his brother bought to take around Australia on their Mullet-headed Bogan Tour of 2003. All class.
wot an awsum idea! i like it. i like it a lot! (sic)

The clutch was one of those nothing, nothing, nothing, JESUS CHRIST affairs, it grabbed so quickly and with such ferocity that any gear change invariably resulted in a rear wheel spin or an invlountary, uncontrollable wheelie.
so we can consider it a progression from; crap > half-decent > uncontrollable wheelies! :lol:

loz
07-06-2006, 10:43 AM
I think the definitions are as follows:

Crap wheelie - intentional, front wheel comes up, rider shits self, front wheel smacks down, viewers of opposite sex find themselves strangely aroused but do not act upon it.

Reasonable wheelie - intentional, front wheel comes up to a good height and stays there until near redline where rider puts it down gently, roots from pretty girls arrive in mail.

Beaut wheelie - intentional, front wheel comes right up to balance point near vertical, rider holds for as long as desired, taking time to wave at passers-by or casually dangle feet over handlebars, rider puts wheel down gently, and only when police car is in sight, rider is inundated with offers of sexual gratification.

Uncontrollable wheelie - completely unintentional, rider is soiling trousers, front wheel comes up, feet slip off pegs, rider bellows in fear and shuts off throttle, front wheel smashes down to earth with great force, smearing rider's grolly or grollies into tank and leaving rider incapable of enjoying any sexual favours that may be offered out of sympathy.

glitch
07-06-2006, 11:10 AM
:lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol:

matt232
07-06-2006, 11:17 PM
grolly or grollies into tank and leaving rider incapable of enjoying any sexual favours that may be offered out of sympathy.

thats not true.....I'm sure there are many a fine young strapping lad rearing(sic) to go. :lol: