BIKES: Peter Jones - The Biking Life

Motorcycling Lifestyles

BIKES: Peter Jones - The Biking Life

The first in a series of lifestyle articles by long time Motorcycle enthusiast Peter Jones.

Peter Jones | Posted November 23, 2010 Charlotte, NC

Peter Jones

More articles from Peter Jones:

The Price Of Freedom | A Totally Fictional Story | The Sensitive History Of Romans And Cowboys

For Sale, GSX-R1000, Slow!

How fast is fast? I’ve been pondering this for years. I read about fast in motorcycle magazines and websites all the time, especially when it’s in reference to a bike for sale. “1978 Kawasaki 450, fast!” Or, “1996 Yamaha YZF 600, very fast!” It’s often difficult to find a bike for sale that’s not fast.

I’ve made the claim myself when selling a bike. I once advertized a ’74 Yamaha RD350 as “fast.” But the thing is, that bike was fast. At least it was in 1982 when I sold it. Its owner previous to me had raced it, and the engine was modified in some mysterious way that made the bike a beast of speed at the sacrifice of fuel mileage. It got, maybe, 11-miles per gallon. I doubted I could find anyone as foolish as myself to be interested in owning a motorcycle whose fuel burning abilities rivaled that of a moving van, so I tried skirting that issue by promoting the bike’s one asset: it’s fast.

A 19-year-old prospective buyer showed up to give the RD a test ride. He rode it about half a block in one direction, turned around and came back by me at around 90 mph. Thankfully my cat was in the house.

He returned moments later with a smile that was about to crack his helmet, and exclaimed in a scream, “Man, this bike is fast!” I knew right then that the bike was sold. I wanted to be an honest salesman, and seeing that there was little that I might say that could kill the deal, I quickly mentioned that the bike got very bad mileage. He wasn’t listening.

I once met an owner of a Moto Morini 500, who had industriously modified his bike to improve its performance. He told me it was the fastest Moto Morini in America. It fascinated me to learn that there was even one guy on the continent who truly believed that Moto Morini and performance had as yet passed each other in the hallway, forget about ever having been introduced. He pointed out to me the new set of 26mm Delorto carbs he’d installed in place of his bike’s original 24mm units. I involuntarily blurted out, “Wow!,” immediately embarrassed that he’d be hurt by my incredulous exclamation at learning that Delorto actually made carbs that small. Thankfully, he misinterpreted my spontaneous outburst as evidence of how impressed I was by his horsepower-boosting modification. I let the confusion stand.

I once owned a Honda CB400F that shook its head violently at around an indicated 100 mph. Because of that, 100 mph on that bike felt very, very fast. At the time, I had a number of riding friends with 1000cc motorcycles. They often talked about how they wished their bikes were faster. I feigned agreement, secretly hoping not to die on my bike that seemed so slow to them.

A rider, who was being paid by a manufacturer to road race its big-bore sportbike, once told me in confidence that the bike scared the crap out of him. It didn’t weave, it didn’t have a head shake, it just didn’t have any feel in its front end and it would toss him to the pavement unpredictably. Did that make this bike fast? Yes, very, very fast. But in context of the brands he was racing against and losing to, the bike was also way too slow.

In the early 1990s, world champion Eddie Lawson came out from a year’s retirement to race in the Daytona 200. When asked during qualifying how it was going for him he responded, “Things are finally beginning to slow down.” After a year of being off a Grand Prix racebike, a slower superbike had come to feel fast to Lawson. By race time, he’d sped his head up, slowing the bike down, and finished second in that year’s race. Maybe if he’d been able to slow his motorcycle down a bit more, he would have won.

I used to top-speed test new production motorcycles, back before the manufacturers secretly agreed to limit the top speed of their biggest bikes to 184 mph (Don’t tell them I told you that.). One bike I rode floated and weaved at speeds above 170 mph. It felt disconnected from the pavement at 170 mph, making the bike feel way too fast. On the same day and on the same stretch of pavement, I tested a bike that stayed planted and easily controlled at over 180 mph, making that bike seem much too slow for its handling abilities. Maybe top-speed testing shouldn’t ever be concerned with what the speedometer says, but with how the bike makes the rider feel when the revs top out in high gear.

Among the bikes I own today is a Honda CB200. Its front brake is a mechanically operated caliper. The pads within it that clamp against the rotor are glazed, so in effect I have a bike with inadequate stopping technology that has been aged to increase its ineffectiveness. Its tires have equally been aged into ineffectiveness and their greatest risk of failure is from shattering not puncturing. Riding that bike down a moderate grade in just second gear is to experience fast at its most terrifying.

The result of all of this is I’ve learned that fast is a state of mind, not a matter of physics. And that that state of mind is determined by the quality of control and feel a rider has of the motorcycle he’s riding, not by what the speedo says. The problem with this is, the bikes that perform the best in the confidence they inspire generally leave an impression of feeling the slowest, while the bikes that perform the worst, feel the fastest.

This can be witnessed at any motorcycle road-racing event, particularly in today’s Moto GP where set up is critical. A racer who wins this weekend and finishes sixth next weekend, invariably won on a slow bike and lost on a fast one. What I mean is, he won because everything was right with his machine and it was mated perfectly, or near perfectly, to the track. When he finishes sixth his bike is a beast, he is riding harder than when he won, taking more chances, nearly crashing often, and feeling as if he is straining to control a monster that wants to kill him. Races are won at the slowest pace the winner can manage while still crossing the finish line first, and lost by everyone else riding as fast as possible.

Page 1 of 2