Disclaimer:
All what is written below never happened, any resemblance to real facts are
pure coincidence…
We were
both tired after an 900km ride from Brussels to somewhere near Grenoble in
France. A traditional first day of a traditional motorcycle holiday aiming at
covering as many kilometres as possible so that the following days could be
spent on touristic small tours, visiting a castle here and a small historic
town there, and ending with a fine dinner and a good bottle of wine in the
evening.
It was our
first long trip with our new KTM 1190 Adventure and it had served us very well
this first day. Still, we were tired. 900km is not nothing, even when the first
Belgian stretch was highway, and a whole day in the saddle brought too much
reality to the internet claims that the 1190 seat was not at all comfortable on
long distances. In addition, the thing always seems to be in a hurry wanting to
go much faster than even the most relaxed speed limit permits and requires constant
attention and concentration.
In short,
all we wanted was to reach that hotel, take a shower, a quick dinner and hit
the sack.
Then a kind
of X-mas tree lighted up on the KTM dashboard. There had already been a
discrete warning that fuel was getting low but now it was shouting “EMPTY”, also
meaning “re-fuel now or start pushing soon”. I really did not want to add an
extra stop barely 5 km from the hotel but…
While
filling the tank, three BMW motorcycles zoomed by, an older but colourful 1100
GS, a 1200 GS, and a relatively new water-cooled R 1200 GS. I could not help
but staring at them. It had been a difficult choice a few months earlier
between buying a KTM or a GS, and doubt was still on my mind whether I made the
right choice.
Back to
reality, and with a full tank we reached the hotel a few minutes later. On the
parking lot I could easily spot the 3 motorcycles. My heart leaped while I
parked my KTM next to them looking forward to an evening of sharing strong
motorcycle stories with likeminded souls.
Check-in,
shower, dinner and we headed for the hotel bar where we could spot the motorcycle
friends. An older guy with a huge moustache who was alone, and two younger
types with their partners. Judging by their noise, they already had a few
drinks.
We took a
“strategic” position, not imposing ourselves but still close enough to allow
for conversation. Unfortunately, we did not have to wait for long.
One of the
younger types turned to me and asked: “Is that little ugly orange bicycle
outside your thingy?”. I did not understand what I was hearing, “you mean my
KTM???” I asked surprised. “Yes” responded the other goon, “the ugly thing, how
on earth can you be so stupid to buy such pooooor bargain instead of a real
motorcycle?”.
My wife,
who has a lot more intelligence than myself in dealing with such situations
said: “This is bringing nothing positive, let’s go to sleep” and we left in an
orchestra of laughter and cheering from the goons who clearly thought that this
was hilarious.
Next
morning, I was in a bad mood. Did I really buy the wrong thing? Anyway, we made
as planned a short trip and visited a war memorial, and got back to the hotel
way to early. My partner decided to go inside and dive into her KOBO reader, I
forced myself to another ride in the mountains.
It was a
ride without any inspiration. I had my mind somewhere else and the KTM seemed
angry that I did not defend it the evening before. It behaved like a stubborn
goat swallowing like a drunk sailor through corners, bucking at each attempt of
acceleration, and generally pretending that I was not at all worthy of its
services. Pooooooooor bargain, I heard in my head.
In short,
this did not make sense, and after an hour or so, I stopped to configure the
GPS to bring me back to the hotel. While doing that the three BMW passed by and
one of those goons gave me … the finger. Damn, I thought, there we go for
another evening of miserable jokes at my expense.
I
reluctantly pushed the start button. The KTM responded with a huge roar, RPM soaring
to 8000, falling back to a steady 4000 before coming back to its normal idle
level. I was totally surprised. It had never done that before and I didn’t
touch the gas handle. I swear, I DID NOT TOUCH the gas handle... but I got the
message.
My fingers
flipped over a few buttons, “Comfort” and “Street” turned to Race and we took
off, back to the hotel, but first… hunting some Beemer ass. Soon I understood
why the younger brother of my 1190 Adventure is called “the BEAST”. My god,
what an engine. The twisty road I was on was just perfect and we digested each
corner with growing confidence.
It did not
take long before I noticed three taillights a few hundred meters in front of me.
One of them must have noticed me at the same moment, I heard him sounding alarm
and frantically waving he accelerated past his two friends, apparently to stay
ahead of me.
But it was
too late, a few minutes later I was on their tail waiting for an opportunity to
overtake the 1200 GS that was in the third position. I did not have to wait for
long. He went wide in an uphill corner, I cut inside and past him getting on
the tail of the moustache on his 1100.
It was a
surprising experience, the leading R1200 in front torturing his boxer to stay
in the lead, me at the back of the cue frantically searching for an opportunity
to pass the Beemers, and the Moustache in the middle on the least powerful and
oldest machine, totally relaxed milling through the corners as if unaware of
the on-going race. Boy, that man definitively could drive.
Finally,
the R 1200 made a wrong gear shift right after a corner and his speed dropped
suddenly. I expected the Moustache to
take the lead, but he squeezed the brakes and stayed behind his friend. Not
only was he an exceptional driver, he also was a lot wiser than the rest of us
and thus stopped this competition before an accident would happen.
I jumped in
front of them and accelerated away noticing how all three behind me stopped
while the R 1200 was clumsily searching for his first gear.
I continued
the ride at a more reasonable pace, parked the KTM, ran to the bedroom, changed
clothes, and was together with my wife in the hotel bar behind a colourful aperitif
before the others arrived.
An hour
later we were in the restaurant, on a table next to the other company who seemed
to contemplate on all possible variations of the theme “silent as a grave”. My
wife, who completely missed the previous episode, finally remarked “they are
very quiet this evening, aren’t they?”.
I grinned cheaply
and responded “They probably think about the difference between bargain and
poor bargain”.
The atmosphere
on thetable next to ours turned to heavy storm and total darkness, except for
the Moustache who smiled ear to ear and took a huge gulp from his massive pint.
I still
love these fantastic BMW motorcycles. They are great traveling bikes and I
enjoy each time that a friend let’s me do a few kilometres on his GS.
However, me
and my horse, we are true friends since that day near Grenoble, I understand
his nature, and he accepts my limitations. We drive safely, and largely within
legal boundaries… and sometimes, we let
the beast out and have some fun…
But all
this never happened, of course not.
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