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| (Thanks to http://graphicsfairy.blogspot.fr for the graphic) |
To get to work here I have bought a ratty old DR600 Suzuki. It's not likely to turn heads, but that's fine by me because I didn't buy it for that. We all joke about mid life crises and I reckon I need to put up my hands to this one because I suppose I'm trying to understand a bit of what would have happened if I had kept my first propper bike, a BSA 250, and put in the CCM 550 engine - I'll explain.
I learned most of my basic spanner twirling on a 1971 BSA B25SS. I fell in love with it before I bought it because to me it looked right, it sounded right, smelt right and above all, it felt right. I think that a mixture of established, but expensive manufacturing methods used by the Small Heath factory and the use of common parts across the ranges, made this bike a tactile pleasure in the same way as a gun can be. Sharing cycle parts with 650s, the frame and suspension were way over the top for the modest 250cc engine. All the steel parts were a decent gauge, the aluminium castings were lovely and there were no plastic bits at all!
In the follwing 12 months I ran through a gamet of emotions as it dumped me in the middle of nowhere, set fire to my trousers, broke expensive bits, refused to start etc. The night before my motorcycle test, it dropped it's clutch basket inside the chain case and I suffered the ignomony of taking the test on my brother's C90 Honda! Every one of those faults could be traced back to me abusing or not using key parts (like tab washers!) correctly. Consequently, bit by bit, I grew to understand what made it tick and what stopped it ticking and in doing so I bonded with it.
Sadly though, teenagers can be fickle creatures and I was no exception, bowing to peer pressure to move on to a 500. This is how I ended up with the Velo, but at the time I was becoming familiar with that bike, I was missing my old BSA. The angst was compounded when a bloke came and bought the BSA and took it away for ever just a week before I read an old article in Bike magazine about a B25/CCM 550 custom entitled "Staying Single" (May 1978). It looked fast and fun and I was especially grabbed by the part that read "...a better power to weight ratio than an RD400" - crikey, on a level with the enemy!
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| BSA B50s look very purposeful. CCM used to re-work these engines to raise the power and put right various known faults. The chassis is almost identical to the 250. Rubbish tyres though eh? |
The rest is history, but I have often wondered what such a bike would have felt like to ride. Thirty four years later and enter the DR600, 45 bhp, 160Kg including fuel and oil. Compared with the BSA B50 at 35 bhp, 135kg dry, then the DR600 looks like it may answer the question of what the CCM special would have been like, particularly when you look at the RD400 at 43 bhp and 175 Kg wet.
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| The DR600 with supermoto wheels |
Where does all this lead? Everyone knows that young men's biking has usually been about going as fast as you can. Ring the bugger's neck, get to the front and above all overtake in bends to show how much better you are than your prey. It's a culture of bravado and daring do on a par with Italian cavalry rules of fire engine driving down mountain roads. Consequently, I wore the sides off my shoes and learned about falling off gracefully as I stuck with my mates entering the next unknown bend way beyond our limits of competence and ashen faced with fear. Don't get me wrong though - I wouldn't change a moment, not one.
On the other hand, I would also sneak out alone and chug around country lanes just enjoying the sensation of the engine burbling away happily and the country side unfolding with each corner I exited. A secret pleasure that was (as far as I knew) mine alone...
Some thirty years on and I have the machine and the maturity to go my own way. It's brilliant, bloody brilliant. The supermotard conversion means that once again the cycle parts are well beyond the engine spec to the point that I can even forgive the plastic bits. So easy to set up for the next bend and so forgiving when I balls it up. The power to weight thing is nice, but I've run much bigger bikes, so it's just very nice.
As to pressure, well, I live in a place that is very macho, particularly in terms of things with wheels. Here, everyone is heavily preocupied with overtaking each other from high speed traffic to jostling shopping trolleys to the check-out. Then there's me rolling along at my speed, sometimes brisk, sometimes very leisurley but always happy.
