A few days after I came home I went out on the VFR and didn't really enjoy
it.
This worried me - I didn't know if it was a VFR thing or a bike thing.
I'd kind of decided that I would sell the VFR - but if this was a bike thing
- how much would I hate the blade ?
Two weeks after the smash, to the day, I'm on a plane to Barcelona, on the way to pick it up.
The intervening time had been fun !
Before I left the shop in Zaragoza after the smash I'd arranged for them to
make the bike rideable, but not pretty, fix the metal but not plastic so I could
ride it to the ferry.
On the phone to them the following week the guy from the shop is quoting me
£2,000 for parts & saying that he might have problems with matching the colours
! After some discussion he faxed me a parts list (which I checked with my local
Honda shop) & I sent back an amended list of what I actually wanted - with the
understanding that the bike had to be safe and rideable without causing further
damage.
One good thing to come out of this is that I had been planning to get a legal
exhaust when I got home & having knackered the illegal scorpion one, it was
cheaper to get a new, legal Leo Vinci end can than a standard full system (from
the price quoted, it had to be the alloy one - much cheaper than either the
titanium or carbon ones - a bit of a compromise but one I can live with).
So there I am.
Plane to Barcelona, train to Zaragoza, at the Honda shop.
The side of the bike I'd had a good look at after the smash (left hand side)
looked a bit battered. The missing bit of fairing had been filled in with tape,
the bar end was missing, the inside of the bar is cracked & they had been unable
to fit a bar end or replace the bar (I think it might have been like that when
I bought it).
The gear lever had been patched with a bolt & tape - infact I had to look twice
to check it hadn't been replaced !
The other side was a shock. I had no idea how much damage there had been. That
side had been against the armco when I was waiting for the garage & I just hadn't
looked at it. Large scores on the plastics the length of the bike, one substantial
crack had been blanket stitched with cable ties !
(hold on a second - shit - I've just checked my right boot & there are two scores on it. I had not even known they were there till now. I can recommend Sidi vertebrae boots - as long as you don't wear them in the rain).
The brake pedal had been bodged in the same way as the gear lever and, to my surprise, a carbon end can. The guys in the shop showed me the bits they'd removed and talked me through the repairs & bill. They asked me if I wanted any of the bits they'd removed but I didn't think the front wheel would fit in the tank bag...
They were impressed with the GPS bracket & I've promised to e-mail details of it to them.
With the bill payed they wheeled the bike into the street & I'm ready to go.
I wasn't as nervous as I thought I'd be as I went through the usual preflight
check.
No rear lights.
Bugger.
The mechanic comes out and re-seats a connector & we're all systems go. (Credit
to him - he checks all the other lights too).
One of the customers who speaks English asks me about my route & advises me
that the road past the lakes is icy so I decide to head up the river valley
towards Logrono.
On the road. And it feels good.
The blade is light to the touch & responsive. A little bit too light - tighten
the steering damper - that's better.
I take it easy through the town &, as the buildings recede, up the speed gently
to see how the new front forks feel & scrub in the new front tyre. After about
10 miles I'm running on dual carriage way with the traffic, at or about the
speed limit & we creep up behind a police car. Not being entirely sure of the
speed limit, I drop in behind it & wait for someone else to overtake it. A car
obliges & as I pull out to follow, the police driver waves me back.
I pull back in behind the police car & the passenger points to the hard shoulder.
I indicate in & sit behind him till he stops. He must have seen the damage &
wants to check me over.
A policeman with a thick dead cigar stub jammed in the corner of his mouth wanders
back to me as I do the contrite, polite bit (engine off, off bike, helmet off).
He taps the front of the bike & says "fethafetha documentation fethafetha".
I dig out the V5 & hand it over.
He has a look & says "fethafetha permission fethafetha". I dig out my license
& hand it over.
As he's looking at that his colleague wanders over, taps the front of the bike & says "lights".
The lights are off.
The bloody lights are switched off.
The bloody mechanic switched off the bloody lights after he'd checked them.
Bastard.
I'm busted.
10 bloody miles & I've been nicked.
I sit on the armco at the side of the road as they sit in the police car doing
police stuff.
What the hell. I'm alive, the bike feels good, the sun is shining, I'm sober
& have cigarettes.
Not care free, but certainly care light.
8,000ESP fine (£30). Things could be a lot worse.
After I've packed everything away, one of the policemen waves me back on to
the road, across the slip road - across a solid white line - and back onto the
main carrageway.
The rest of the run to Bilbao was uneventful. Unfortunately by the time I got to the fun twisties, the rain was on & I wasn't to keen on pushing a new tyre too hard round them, but the blade feels good & I feel good on it.
OK I'll need to get the bodywork replaced & get it properly set up for the
new exhaust.
This I can do.
Roll on the British summer & bring on the 'ring.