HEY! YOU FOUND MY BLOG!!!!
COOL!
PARRAMATTA RETURN
Guess what!? I finally got myself some maps and ever since then I have been drooooooling over those black and red lines. NRMA has a good map of ‘Sydney and suburbs’ and using it I was able to find the road I had discovered on a ‘I guess THAT way is east’-trip trying to find my way home (avoiding tollways).
So, why Parramatta you ask, well, this trip to Parramatta had to be done because (when passing through in early September) I had purchased a visor that just did not fit my helmet. I was sooo looking forward to try my new tinted visor, but unfortunately I had to go all the way back to the shop to make it happen. And by the way, after all, I was in the market for a new pair of boots as well, so I worked out the ‘fun-nest’ way to get from the Gong to Parramatta. First along the coast, the beaches, the bends, the Sea Cliff Bridge, up Bald Hill and through the Nasho.
At Stanwell Tops this guy on a BMW pulled out in front and after a slow-ish start he was going along at a pace to match mine. A few groups zoomed south at speed and one of their pillions gave the sign: slow down. Well, that’s how both of us interpreted it. It could have also been some kind of peculiar bird impersonation. After a while of cruising along the curvy bits we saw a totally smashed up blue bike leaning against the embankment on the other side of the road. I expected to see commotion and an ambulance on the way out of that corner, but there was nothing. There weren’t even skid marks on the road. It was surreal. If this was supposed to scare people into going slower, it worked for me. Momentarily.
So, no sign of anything else and the next straight looked like a perfect opportunity to take off. I overtook the BMW and just around the very next corner sat the disco gang, lights ablaze, scribbling out a ticket. Speeding, I expect. All the way down to the end of the park I gave riders the finger lights and I felt terrible for it. There is no nastier way to spoil their early morning enjoyment, than to plant those hunters and collectors right in the back of their heads. Especially when the speed limit changes quite frequently: 60/70/80. Ahh well, it’s too bad. At the end of the road the BMW rider pulled up next to me. It never dawned on me that he may have been an off duty motorcycle cop, but as I think of it now, I remember his tights and the boots were just like the real thing and when I mentioned how typical it was that I took off and there they were… he said something like: ”There’ll be more.”
Off we went our different ways. I rode across the Woronora bridge and turned right at Alfords Point Road/Illawarra Road to turn off after crossing that dramatically sweeping Georges River bridge. On most occasions I’ve seen the early morning sun glinting, fog rising from its reflective glassy surface, undisturbed, peaceful, an ideal landing strip for any old duck, but today there was an army of pleasure crafts, beached, bobbing anchored, or slowly cutting through the serenity with razor-sharp bows. Kids swimming their parents unloading gear, declaring this bit of sandy beach their own. The river appeared busier than Parramatta Road in peak hour. I am amazed how many people own boats these days.
I am amazed how many people own bikes, big bikes, new bikes and what never ceases to amaze me is that there are so many riders that are my age and beyond.
There was hardly any traffic along those sweeping bends following the river. At first I went on Henry Lawson Drive through the Georges River National Park with its lagoons and parkland picnic spots, Sandy Point, then Milperra, past Bankstown Aerodrome to Lansdowne, then onto Woodville Road and from there all the way up to Church Street, Parramatta. It is just such a great alternative to the myriad of red lights and trucks travelling on Davies, Stacy and Rockwood. Admittedly there is a 60 km/h speed limit and a camera along the way around the first 5 km of Henry Lawson Drive, but that just keeps you on your toes.
I bought myself a pair of brand spanking new, waterproof black leather boots and exchanged my visor. It was a bit hassle-some. I recognised the guy, but he obviously did not go there. When I told him that I needed to exchange it because it did not fit, he was most surprised. I guess I must have told him the wrong size when I walked in there originally. This time I had the helmet with me. He gave me a hard time for not producing my receipt, which I had thrown in the rubbish by mid September, thinking ‘surely they don’t need a receipt to exchange a wrong visor’. There was a moment, were it all seemed to hang in the balance, holding my breath whilst they made the crucial decision… to exchange or not to exchange THAT was the question.
OK! Breathe out, relax. He fitted the tinted visor for me and it looked great. It was just like wearing sunnies without the pressure on the bridge. Great!
My new boots are stunning too and I even got myself a 5% discount for mentioning ANON and GRO. Or was it because I asked for it? Aargh, too generous, mate!
AND on my way out I remembered that ‘Motorcycling Atlas, 100 rides in Australia’. I’ve certainly made my maps a priority these holidays…
I went home the same way, but took it perhaps a little too easy. If the disco gang had spotted me, they would have surely insisted to breath test me, for going slow through the Nasho.
That’s all folks!
COOL!
PARRAMATTA RETURN
Guess what!? I finally got myself some maps and ever since then I have been drooooooling over those black and red lines. NRMA has a good map of ‘Sydney and suburbs’ and using it I was able to find the road I had discovered on a ‘I guess THAT way is east’-trip trying to find my way home (avoiding tollways).
So, why Parramatta you ask, well, this trip to Parramatta had to be done because (when passing through in early September) I had purchased a visor that just did not fit my helmet. I was sooo looking forward to try my new tinted visor, but unfortunately I had to go all the way back to the shop to make it happen. And by the way, after all, I was in the market for a new pair of boots as well, so I worked out the ‘fun-nest’ way to get from the Gong to Parramatta. First along the coast, the beaches, the bends, the Sea Cliff Bridge, up Bald Hill and through the Nasho.
At Stanwell Tops this guy on a BMW pulled out in front and after a slow-ish start he was going along at a pace to match mine. A few groups zoomed south at speed and one of their pillions gave the sign: slow down. Well, that’s how both of us interpreted it. It could have also been some kind of peculiar bird impersonation. After a while of cruising along the curvy bits we saw a totally smashed up blue bike leaning against the embankment on the other side of the road. I expected to see commotion and an ambulance on the way out of that corner, but there was nothing. There weren’t even skid marks on the road. It was surreal. If this was supposed to scare people into going slower, it worked for me. Momentarily.
So, no sign of anything else and the next straight looked like a perfect opportunity to take off. I overtook the BMW and just around the very next corner sat the disco gang, lights ablaze, scribbling out a ticket. Speeding, I expect. All the way down to the end of the park I gave riders the finger lights and I felt terrible for it. There is no nastier way to spoil their early morning enjoyment, than to plant those hunters and collectors right in the back of their heads. Especially when the speed limit changes quite frequently: 60/70/80. Ahh well, it’s too bad. At the end of the road the BMW rider pulled up next to me. It never dawned on me that he may have been an off duty motorcycle cop, but as I think of it now, I remember his tights and the boots were just like the real thing and when I mentioned how typical it was that I took off and there they were… he said something like: ”There’ll be more.”
Off we went our different ways. I rode across the Woronora bridge and turned right at Alfords Point Road/Illawarra Road to turn off after crossing that dramatically sweeping Georges River bridge. On most occasions I’ve seen the early morning sun glinting, fog rising from its reflective glassy surface, undisturbed, peaceful, an ideal landing strip for any old duck, but today there was an army of pleasure crafts, beached, bobbing anchored, or slowly cutting through the serenity with razor-sharp bows. Kids swimming their parents unloading gear, declaring this bit of sandy beach their own. The river appeared busier than Parramatta Road in peak hour. I am amazed how many people own boats these days.
I am amazed how many people own bikes, big bikes, new bikes and what never ceases to amaze me is that there are so many riders that are my age and beyond.
There was hardly any traffic along those sweeping bends following the river. At first I went on Henry Lawson Drive through the Georges River National Park with its lagoons and parkland picnic spots, Sandy Point, then Milperra, past Bankstown Aerodrome to Lansdowne, then onto Woodville Road and from there all the way up to Church Street, Parramatta. It is just such a great alternative to the myriad of red lights and trucks travelling on Davies, Stacy and Rockwood. Admittedly there is a 60 km/h speed limit and a camera along the way around the first 5 km of Henry Lawson Drive, but that just keeps you on your toes.
I bought myself a pair of brand spanking new, waterproof black leather boots and exchanged my visor. It was a bit hassle-some. I recognised the guy, but he obviously did not go there. When I told him that I needed to exchange it because it did not fit, he was most surprised. I guess I must have told him the wrong size when I walked in there originally. This time I had the helmet with me. He gave me a hard time for not producing my receipt, which I had thrown in the rubbish by mid September, thinking ‘surely they don’t need a receipt to exchange a wrong visor’. There was a moment, were it all seemed to hang in the balance, holding my breath whilst they made the crucial decision… to exchange or not to exchange THAT was the question.
OK! Breathe out, relax. He fitted the tinted visor for me and it looked great. It was just like wearing sunnies without the pressure on the bridge. Great!
My new boots are stunning too and I even got myself a 5% discount for mentioning ANON and GRO. Or was it because I asked for it? Aargh, too generous, mate!
AND on my way out I remembered that ‘Motorcycling Atlas, 100 rides in Australia’. I’ve certainly made my maps a priority these holidays…
I went home the same way, but took it perhaps a little too easy. If the disco gang had spotted me, they would have surely insisted to breath test me, for going slow through the Nasho.
That’s all folks!
posted by The '95 Ninja ZX6R at 1:43 PM
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