now, here is a little creative energy... a logo! Not my last, but a good start...

OOOOOOOOH Yeah!
The Sun's Out, the tank is filled, NetRiders are off to Berry and the man is ok about leaving him behind for a few hours...father's day is NEXT weekend...
What should I Do?????
GO,Baby,GO GO GO!!!!!!!!!!!

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So, after a momentary attack of guilt, I finally got to go. Rode up to Heathcote and met the Netriders.I am lying. I met Bron...again. We had seen each other on another ride and both of us could'nt quite figure out when, but she was on a red 250 Kawasaki and looked worried. Perhaps it was because she had just seen me loosing my footing at the pump and had it not been for a leather clad hero, who rushed to my aid, I may have dropped the bike most awkwardly. Full tank and bag did not make it any easier to regain that prescious balance...but if nothing else, it was a heart starter...

Yes, she looked worried, but I quickly realised why that was... the SIZE of those bikes!!! 1400 something cc's!!!!! So we did the only thing left to do...cut 'em loose...Both Bron and I called out: DON"T WAIT FOR US!!! as they sprinted off. To their credit, one of them marked the next two turn-off's, but then I waved him on and when we finally arrived at Stanwell Tops, we did not recognise them amongst the crowd... we guessed that they had been and gone.

Bronwyn is also going on the 'GRO Bathurst or Bust' weekend away and we are both looking forward to it. It seems our biggest problem is the luggage arrangement. Mine in particular, because I have never been one for a luggage rack and side cases. In my opinion they are dangerous in an accident and anyway, it looks a bit like pulling a caravan with a maserati!

In the hurry to get out of the garage this morning I forgot all about my new visor and those knee sliders, but I tried to shift the weight around a bit more on this particular ride, which felt very good, very safe, after all, the bike does not lean as hard and the grip is much more solid... must practice... must practice... must practice... must practice. Bathurst will be the next ride I get to go on, unless I'll ride to DeNiros. We'll keep you posted!

I WENT TO GET MYSELF A NEW VISOR...DARK...SO YOU CAN'T SEE MY WRINKLES...

I ALSO GOT SOME SLIDERS, NOT THAT I NEED THEM, BUT WHEN THE KNEE'S DOWN, I WANT THAT EXTRA BIT OF RUBBER BEFORE MY SKIN MAKES THE AQUAINTANCE OF ROUGH ASPHALT...

LET'S HOPE THAT WON'T HAPPEN...

MY BERRIMA TRIP WITH THE 'GIRLS'

We met not too early on a glorious Sunday morning at ...Casula Caltex... I have become a little more familiar with the area ...after all, this is our second meeting. It was quite busy and I was most surprised when I saw how many bike riders had already turned up when I got there, which I had thought was in good time.

Three other riders caught up with me (Paul and Sue and Julia) as I approached. I felt a little awkward, because I did not seem to recognise ANYONE. You can imagine how I felt when I went into the premises to get myself a drink and people started to take off ALREADY!

"Weird, they did not even bother to let me know that we're going so soon", I thought, before I started to panic...I still had to get my gear back on, stash my drink and purse and make sure that I wont lose the tail end...since once again I had not bothered about that map. As it turned out, they were the local Ulysses Club-whose admirable motto is to grow old disgracefully. As it happened they had picked the same meeting point, but took off ahead of us and probably went to another destination.

We ended up with approximately 25 bikes on this run and poor Rachel, the HarleyChick volunteered to tail us, which meant that she was riding with a bright orange vest over her cool Harley black leathers. She copped a lot of flack from her good friends and her husband, all riding as part of the pack.

The ride was taking us through some nice country side with some fine roads on which I proceeded to practise my right handers. My new tyres are soo much better and they were truly worth the money. The bike seems to lean easier on that new, lower front end tyre and on the way back I checked for highspeed wobbles, but there was nada. It certainly is good fun to be on the road again.

We had a couple of stops to re-group and at the last one at Bowral we were told that the Berrima Markets were on, which will make parking at the place a bit of a hassle. Everyone's on their own. Grab what you can! Ok! I parked about half a km from the pub. We took our gear and ordered a bite to eat. It arrived as quickly as the drinks and the place was nice and warm. We discovered that the pub had a parking lot right at the back...next time!

Well, the girls started to itch a little on the market-front and off we went, only held back by the size of the tankbag I carried.
As we were taking in the sights, we heard the roar and knew that some of us were alredy on their way back, waving at us from the road. The three of us were contemplating which way to go when I had a call from the family and they were suggesting that I'd join them at Moss Vale for a cuppa, which was only 10 k's out from where we were. So I farewelled my travel partners and took off to meet the rellos. Sunday afternoon in a posh Highlands Cafe saw me quite out of place in my leathers, gearpack and helmet. So I made sure that I'd mention that these leathers ARE FRENCH...

and then we were invited to look at a friend of the family's mansion. After the sixth's bathroom I finally made the brave decision to look at myself in the mirror and I looked WILD! Hat-hair, ooooooh how I despise HAT HAIR!!!!!!!!!
hmmm, can't win them all. You pay to go on rides. Simple as that.
I wish I had this guy's hat-hair!!!!...

In the end I did get a lot of attention taking off, as the young couple had decided that they will purchase a set of brandnew Dukes this summer. I always love to meet prospective riding partners. I suggested ANON and GRO of cause. She lectures in women's leadership seminars. Most women on bikes I have ever met were strong women. Perhaps there's something in it for all of us. We'll see...

P.S. :
You meet a guy at a party. How do you know he rides a Ducati?

He'll tell you!

NEW TYRES MAKE ME REALISE THAT I LIKE LEFT HANDERS BETTER

My new tyres are a little different to what I am used to. The front tyre is lower, which is the correct size for the bike and allows more space between front mud guard and the rubber. The previous owner had fitted the wrong size. I had always been a little worried about how tight that gap was, but now it seems ok. The new tyres needed running in and at first it was awkward how quickly the front end dipped into corners, especially in combination with the newly repositioned lower-set gear shift and rear break pedal.

It was dark on my way home and I felt a little vulnerable, getting used to those changes and I paid particular attention to 'running-in' those tyres, which made me realise that I do not enjoy right handers as much as taking a left. When I got home I checked out my rear end and the far left looked 'used', whilst the right was almost untouched. Hmmm...I'll have to make the effort...

Well, I do not like right handers because...

•cars that cross the line can take your head off
•if I slide, I have more space before I hit something...I hope!
•I get scared...but WHY????

I am right handed and right footed. I wonder if that adds any meaning? Anyone? Does it have anything to do with right brain/left brain, creativity vs logic? Is it ALL in the head? Do I finally get to see a shrinK????

full moon...time has been filled with the insanity of work...late nights and little energy left for a quick twist of the wrist.


I WANT MORE...I have not been on the road for at least three weeks. Where I live, I can hear the sea, but on gorgeous days I can also hear the groups of bikes riding along the coast road. 'Tis torture! This is the weekend I was waiting for: Berrima! Tomorrow I'll get myself a new set of tyres and have my riding position adjusted. A tune-up is due, as it has been six months. Steve booked us in to get me on the road by Friday night. I can't wait.

My Motorbycle Collection


I took my first ride on my dad's Vespa in '58 in my mum's tummy and apparently I earned my birthmark when they both came off it. Good start!











Back in '78/'79 I made a few friends who rode road bikes and another group who had XT500s. There was some cross over, but generally they were two distinct groups. I had quite suddenly been infected by the bug, that burning desire to be in charge of a large machine on two wheels. I had been to the Isle Of Man TT Races in '78 and watched Mike (The Bike) Hailwood take another victory on his Duke. The whole scene intrigued me. It was a tough environment and I was going to master it.


My first bike was a Honda 400 Four. It was blue and I stored it in a friend's garage. I had ridden it once, then I lent it to someone to pick up his girlfriend from the trainstation just down the road. Hamburg, autumn, wet cobblestone road and slippery, slimey, decaying leaflitter in a roundabout. He was trying to show off. She got away with bruises, but my bike was totalled.

I've learned my lesson: Never lend your bike to anyone. Nobody rides it like you do.



The insurance paid up and I had a little windfall. Was it Christmas? Maybe. I found another 400 Four and she was metallic cherry red.

SHE... yes,









I had started to bond... I also met more and more people, down to earth people, people who were able to cope with a great deal more than most. They spat in the face of adversity. They were practical people. They got the job done. They looked tough, walked tough, talked tough and it seemed as if everybody somehow took note when they arrived. I enjoyed belonging to this subculture. ...and I label it in the nicest possible way. There was an element of truly living. "Living dangerously", my mother would say. But perhaps that's when you feel truly alive, when you take death in account. Riding a moped, as I used to call it (even though I never owned a bike under 250cc) had great benefits.

For one thing, I used to work right in the middle of the city and I always had a free parking spot right outside the front door on the foot path. Those were the days of ACDC and Space Invaders...

I learnt to ride (balance) on my blue CB400Four in some paddock in the country side, riding up and down the pothole marked tractor groove, never getting out of second gear, until I got so sick of it that I decided to turn right and just kept riding onto the main road. I remember that there was this beautiful long straight down into the valley at the side of the lake by which we were camped.

Ooooohhh, what a nice sound that bike made as I was giving it full throttle!... and of cause I wanted all my friends to know that I had escaped the confines of those tractor grooves and I remember even beeping the horn as I was getting to the bottom of the valley. Up, up and away, tearing up the straight towards the forest on the other side and there it was...: a CORNER!!!!?

It was a quick right, lined by tall timbers and there were people having picnics everywhere. There were kids, there were cars, there were trees, there was me, almost fainting from the rush of the adrenaline. People were standing, staring, whilst I came screaming up that hill. My very first corner! I had NO idea! No time, no thought, just instinct and I threw myself into the corner...just making it.

MAKING IT!!!

I stopped, shaking from fear, from the residue of the adrenaline and the sheer weight of their eyes resting on me. I would have never forgiven myself had I made these kids witness my twisted and mutilated body being lifted from a pool of my own precious blood. Humbled and elated I returned to camp at a most moderate speed. My friends had not even noticed that I'd been away...

I learned to never assume that they are watching when you are taking a risk to impress them.

About a year later I started a job closer to home in more ways than one: at Kawasaki.


Of cause I had to get a bigger bike! I bought myself a brandnew Z650C in midnight blue and I had a white, sporty seat put on it. It was beautiful! It was powerful, it was perfect.

It was stolen from my front door.

Insurance paid up and I purchased a Z1000, bought a race seat/tail and stripped it of all unnecessary parts, had the frame sprayed fire engine red and all accessories in the brightest white on the market. It was low, light and FAST and it looked like Fritz Egli's work in progress and it hummed.....mmmmmhhh! This is the only picture in existence and unfortunately this one is not a just representation of the bike. We were on our way to Korsika (Corse) and I had reluctantly taken a pillion, which meant that I re-rigged it from race tail to double seat and my side panels were removed at that stage, as the race seat was an all in one. So it looks a bit bare...

In the end I sold that bike for a song, enough to make the return ticket to Australia.

Here in Oz, I purchased an XT500. Funny that! The roads....

The last bike I had was an RD250. Quick off the mark, just the thing for life in the city.

A mortgage and a child...and 15 years later: My NINJA!!!! Dadaaaaahhhhhhh! I'm back!

Opportunity Missed
David Rugless (Buggles) rang to tell me that he too had bought a Kawasaki, but since it had to have an oil leak fixed, he would not be able to go for a ride at the moment. We made a tentative ride day in a couple of weeks. By then he had taken ill and passed away quite suddenly. It took us all by surprise and the shock and grief was terrible. I rode my bike to his funeral. His hearse passed the parked machine and came to its final destination a few meters later. That was the ride that never was. I owed him that. On my way out I wanted to rev the engine and give out a roar, but I almost choked on my own tears. We had not seen each other for so long and we were not to see each other ever again. Life can be so cruel!