Saturday 19th was the scheduled date for my shakedown run, which is meant to be a full test of everything for the trip. So I spent Friday night loading my panniers and roll bag, and put all my electronic equipment (camera, lenses, DV camera and laptop) in my tankbag. I'd arranged to meet my dive buddies Clare and Al in Weymouth, Dorset, which was just over a three hundred mile round trip in one afternoon, so good preparation!
The last bit of prep on the bike before setting off was to add preload to the rear suspension to account for the increased weight. I turned the preload fully out to the stiffest setting.
As soon as I got onto the M25 I knew it was going to be a tough afternoon, it was a windy day and the normally stable DL was regularly blown from one side of the lane to the other. By the time I got to the M3 I was getting used to it but it still wasn't much fun. Added to that the tankbag completely obscured the clocks and the (empty) map case reflected the sun in my eyes. I tried to reassure myself that it wasn't fun because I'd done the trip a million times albeit with a car full of dive gear, but it didn't help.
I pulled over on the M27 and adjusted the preload halfway back to the original setting. That seemed to help a lot and the bike felt normal, just heavier!
When I got to Weymouth I found the place my friends were staying at, and pulled into the car park as they came out to greet me. Unfortunately I wasn't really concentrating, the car park was steep and cambered, and I'd forgotten how heavy the bike was. As a result I dropped it, breaking the right wing mirror off and bending the bar end so the throttle wouldn't move.
Bashing the bar end straight was easy enough, and whilst I unpacked the bike my friends got their copious toolkits out and worked on the wing mirror. By the time my gear was stashed in a car the wing mirror had been superglued, and a large washer applied to the nut to keep pressure on the break. Plus in excellent bodging tradition it was liberally covered in Duck tape :)
Bike repaired and gear stowed we went to dinner. We met a couple more diving friends and sat down to eat. It was good to catch up as I hadn't seen everyone for probably six months or more. Clare had invited another guy she knew to eat with us, and coincidentally he'd done a round-the-States motorcycle trip in the past.
By the time I had finished dinner and listened to the various horror stories I was convinced I was going to be robbed, raped or shot. Or maybe robbed, raped AND shot. And various combinations thereof.
Riding home though was pretty pleasant - the sun was sinking across the New Forest in subtle red hues, as the moon was rising on the opposite horizon. It was cool and the wind had dropped too. Even the local insect population seemed to avoid my visor more than normal. I did notice however that I got significantly less mpg on the ride, presumably because of the additional weight and drag.
Cheers,
Fraser.
The last bit of prep on the bike before setting off was to add preload to the rear suspension to account for the increased weight. I turned the preload fully out to the stiffest setting.
As soon as I got onto the M25 I knew it was going to be a tough afternoon, it was a windy day and the normally stable DL was regularly blown from one side of the lane to the other. By the time I got to the M3 I was getting used to it but it still wasn't much fun. Added to that the tankbag completely obscured the clocks and the (empty) map case reflected the sun in my eyes. I tried to reassure myself that it wasn't fun because I'd done the trip a million times albeit with a car full of dive gear, but it didn't help.
I pulled over on the M27 and adjusted the preload halfway back to the original setting. That seemed to help a lot and the bike felt normal, just heavier!
When I got to Weymouth I found the place my friends were staying at, and pulled into the car park as they came out to greet me. Unfortunately I wasn't really concentrating, the car park was steep and cambered, and I'd forgotten how heavy the bike was. As a result I dropped it, breaking the right wing mirror off and bending the bar end so the throttle wouldn't move.
Bashing the bar end straight was easy enough, and whilst I unpacked the bike my friends got their copious toolkits out and worked on the wing mirror. By the time my gear was stashed in a car the wing mirror had been superglued, and a large washer applied to the nut to keep pressure on the break. Plus in excellent bodging tradition it was liberally covered in Duck tape :)
Bike repaired and gear stowed we went to dinner. We met a couple more diving friends and sat down to eat. It was good to catch up as I hadn't seen everyone for probably six months or more. Clare had invited another guy she knew to eat with us, and coincidentally he'd done a round-the-States motorcycle trip in the past.
By the time I had finished dinner and listened to the various horror stories I was convinced I was going to be robbed, raped or shot. Or maybe robbed, raped AND shot. And various combinations thereof.
Riding home though was pretty pleasant - the sun was sinking across the New Forest in subtle red hues, as the moon was rising on the opposite horizon. It was cool and the wind had dropped too. Even the local insect population seemed to avoid my visor more than normal. I did notice however that I got significantly less mpg on the ride, presumably because of the additional weight and drag.
Cheers,
Fraser.
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