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 The
Eclectic Biker: June 2003 |
by John
Inama
Associate Editor
Beginner Bikes Magazine
Personal
revelations, and the lure of the Old World
| Ode
To The Single-Minded |
Oh, how I envy the single-minded, the ones with amazing tunnel vision,
who have one single conviction and stick to it, regardless of what
anyone else thinks. You know the type -- heck, maybe you are one
-- the Cruiser Guy, the Sportbike Guy, the I'll-Ride-Anything-As-Long-As-It's-A-Harley
guy.
Oh how I envy them. Why? Because I can't make up my damn mind, that's
why. I have the unfortunate privilege of being an I-Like-Everything
Guy. And it wreaks havoc on my motorcycle decisions. Just a few
months ago, I boldly stated I've made a decision, that I found my
Nirvana of Motorcycling, the KLR650. That lasted, oh, about two
months.
I blame myself, really. Not only for being so indecisive, but also
for all that two-stroke banter I spewed forth in April. That's how
it all started. As the winter snows fell and mild insanity set in,
my thoughts meandered toward the wonderful world of centrifugal
clutches and step-through frames. As much as I love the world of
scooters, much of their appeal are their little engines billowing
clouds of blue two-stroke smoke.
Around this same time, I also came to a realization -- an epiphany,
as it were. Someone asked, "What are the best-looking motorcycles?"
I immediately made my list -- Honda CBR600RR, Triumph Daytona 600,
Ducati 996, Aprilia RS250. As I looked over the list a few days
later (showcasing my rapier-sharp powers of observation), I noticed
something.
"Hey, they're all sportbikes," I said to myself, hopefully
not aloud. "I'm a sportbike guy!"
Naturally, talk of scooters and sportbikes eventually led to scooter-engined
50cc sportbikes, which also found their way into this column. Then,
the MotoGP season started, including the diminutive 125cc class
I love so. The 125s aren't far removed from those 50cc bikes.
 The
wheels started turning. "Man, they're neat bikes," I thought
to myself. I started really looking at them, comparing specifications,
digging through my old Cycle World magazines for the Derbi GPR50R
test, trying to figure out which one I liked best. I loved the new
Derbi GPR Replica, with its straight-from-the-GP-bike bodywork and
great paint job. The Rieju RS1, well, I've never really heard much
about them, plus they're the smallest of the three, so that was
pretty much out. The Aprilia RS50 was nearly as good-looking as
the Derbi, but with an established dealer network and a loyal following.
In the end, the Aprilia's dealer network beat out the Derbi's looks,
and the RS50 became my top 50cc sportbike.
But what would it be like to own one? Would I fit on it, or look
like a Shriner on crack? Can it get out of its own way, or will
I be tucked tightly behind the faring, doing 35 mph in sixth gear?
I needed answers, so I went off in search of them.
It didn't take long. As I said before, they have a loyal following,
and a simple Internet search brought forth a wealth of information.
I found what I was looking for right away. Yes, I'll fit on it just
fine. Stock top speed is 55 to 60 mph. And (this is the best part)
the little engine can be hot-rodded in myriad ways. Big bore kits
(68 to 75cc), larger-diameter carbs, high-performance reeds, performance
exhaust, among others, can boost performance to 250cc-bike levels,
increasing top speed to 80-plus. Like almost anything, performance
is only limited by the size of your wallet.
To paraphrase the Motorcycle Safety Foundation's Guide to Motorcycling
Excellence, the more I learned, the better it got. I knew I wanted
one. New, they're a bit pricey -- $3549 MSRP, more than a Ninja
250 and about half the performance. Figure another grand to get
it up to speed, so to speak, and you're talking one expensive 50.
Being as cheap and poor as I am, I started checking classifieds
for used prices. Much better here. Cycle Trader had a few in the
$2,000-$2,400 range, and eBay had a few as well. Much more palatable.
It soon went from a virtual impossibility to a possible probability.
That was all it took -- I want one. Sorry KLR, you're a great bike,
but I'm a Sportbike Guy, and I want an Aprilia.
One fly remains in the two-stroke oil, though. I'm not sure about
owning a bike I can't take on the highway. Granted, as a beginner
biker I'm not going to be riding the Iron Butt any time soon, but
I'm sure a highway ride will come up eventually. Sure, with proper
modifications the RS can theoretically be taken on the highway,
but if I get pulled over by John Law, who knows what will happen.
Still, for now, my choice for Ultimate Beginner Bike is the Aprilia
RS50. This is subject to change without warning, and for no apparent
reason.
| Perchè
sono i motocicli italiani così bei? |
What
is it about Italian motorcycles that makes us drool so? This question
has been floating around in my head for a while, and I think I came
up with a few reasons.
At first I thought it was engineering, but that's not it. The Japanese
are still Kings of Engineering. Take Honda's new CBR900RR, for example.
There's more high-tech wizardry between those two wheels than in
nearly any other machine. It's an engineering marvel, from an engine
that's smaller, lighter, and more powerful than the one in the CBR600F4i,
to the trick rear suspension gleaned from the RC211V race bike,
to the almost religious execution of Honda's mass centralization
mantra. Or what about the Yamaha R6, a bike that was so good no
one thought it could be improved upon, yet it was? All this engineering,
though, comes at a price. In the effort to engineer out all the
imperfections, they also engineer out most of the character. Despite
being technological masterpieces, they have no soul, like appliances
on wheels.
No, the Italians do it differently. In my opinion, there are two
things the Italians do to make their bikes so special. The first
is all about style.
Do you know who designed the CBR600RR? Me either. But most motorcycle
enthusiasts know who designed the Ducati 999 and Supersport -- Pierre
Terblanche. And, like him or not, at least people know him. Style
is integral in the design of an Italian motorcycle, whereas Japanese
bikes seem to be styled as an afterthought by guys who'd rather
be making anime. This is only my opinion. But it sounds plausible,
no?
The Italians also use engineering, but not in the same way. While
the Japanese sweat over every detail, the Italians are more purposeful
in their tactics. I call it focused engineering. Take the legendary
Ducati 996, for example. Sure, the engine may not be sewing-machine
smooth, the riding position would be good for a 12th-century torture
device, and the maintenance schedule may look more like a rebuild
schedule, but one ride on a twisty mountain road or race track and
everything seems to fall into place.
For Italian bikes, it's all about the ride. And the style.
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