A GLANCE BACK TO YESTERYEAR

A collection of Photos from the past, courtesy of Gary Bennett

By Tony Malone, Member #67

Living at North Ipswich I really like it when the Sunday ride leaves from the BP Blacksoil, and a gathering/start time of around 09:00hrs means that I can rise at a reasonable time, make my breakfast, do my washing-up etc. and arrive in good time. And so it was on 4 June 2023, when President Tony Gray was to take us via many roads to the Rathlogan Olive Grove & Shed Cafe for lunch.

Joining the Warrego Highway from Mt. Crosby Road I met Tony on the road, riding his Eddie Lawson replica Kawasaki; the mighty Kwaka! I always loved the Superbikes, and the exploits of Eddie and others (including that Kiwi Graham Crosby who is still in the business in New Zealand, who I saw riding the Yoshimura Z1-R at Surfers Paradise Raceway around 1980). In the old days, Kwakas Ruled!

Not only that, but the Z1-R followed in some ways the innovation of BMW with the R90S. It was generally the Z1000 with changed (and radical for the time) bodywork, with a bikini fairing. Some changes helped the performance, but otherwise many parts were interchangeable. But back to BMWs.

We gathered at Blacksoil, with lots of friendly chat and new and returning members to speak with. I think that there were 3 R/RTs including mine, and about 10 to 15 riders (including only one pillion). Tony explained that his G/S was having some problems, and so he brought his Kawasaki. He had it at the Cane Toad as well, so I presume he bleeds green. As we lined up to leave, I realised that behind the Kwaka we were ducks in a row; hence my name to this article.

Corner marking kept the group nicely in order. Taking the Brisbane Valley Highway led us to Marburg and across to Rosewood, taking the road towards Rosevale only to turn left to cross the Cunningham Highway to Harrisville. What was Mackaway’s Café (a favourite of many) has become a bakery. There is still the nice table and courtyard to eat, but the menu has changed. And what a choice of sweet things! Along with the usual pastry expectations was a beetroot muffin. I was told that these taste great, and will be taking a trip back sometime to try it out. Speaking to a couple of locals while waiting in-line for service (it is very popular) I spoke on the Fat Cow series that the ABC made at the local pub. Tony announced 5 minutes to leaving, and we were back on the road. 2 more joined our group at this point.

We followed the back ways that I usually follow when riding to the tablelands, and Tony then took us around the Wyaralong Dam to Beaudesert. It was then onto the road to The Lost World, which the Scenic Rim Site tells us “is a gem offering the chance to disconnect from modern life and engage with nature.” It certainly is nice country, taking us past Darlington Park (which was the intended site of a motorsport raceway, pondered by Tony Stephens after the closure of Surfer’s Paradise in around 1988. Local Government and politics interfered, and which a lot of preparatory work was done it was never finished). In any event it is really nice country to ride through, and the mist on the mountains made me think of the Hobbit and the Misty Mountains Song, and also of Led Zeppelin (which I was able to play to myself on my downloaded music – what motorcycling has become!)

Back on the Mt. Lindsay Highway and right at Rathdowney towards Boonah soon had us climbing the steep driveway through the olive grove. Entering I saw that there was a 4WD ahead of us, and so I climbed as slowly as I could as people like this can often chose to stop on the one lane road to admire whatever they want to look at, with disregard to those following slipping clutches etc. We do not all have automatics! However we reached the top without incident, and I found a place to park on reasonably level and firm ground, and out from under the towering gum trees (with loose branches!)

I have been here a couple of times before, one following a Gary Bennett Frigid Digit at Mt. Barney. It has a really nice gift shop, and wonderful food and service. There are a number of tables to sit around, and no-one was cramped. Tony had done a good job. Realising that there was more than one Tony, I tried to place my order in using the name “Poor”, a play on the name “Rich” which Richard had used at Harrisville. It did not work, and I became “Poor Tony”, much to the amusement of others.

And then it was time to leave. Rather than doing this as a group, we made our own choices. Remembering that we came as ducks in a row, we now separated and I knew that ...........I amAlone

By Tony Gray, Member # 3905

Hands up everyone who has dropped or misplaced something that would then require the investigative skills of Sherlock Holmes to unearth? All of you? Yes, just as I thought. Now given this is a fine motorcycle journal so I will not bore you with instances where your partner has reorganised the Westinghouse and you are left standing looking into the abyss of an open fridge unable to see the Yogurt that is now on a different shelf in full view. No, I am talking serious motorcycle stuff.

A recent occurrence has caused this train of thought which I will get back to later but first a delve into history. Jane and my first house had a double carport behind a high fence but with a concrete slab that must have been laid by a troop of chimpanzees.

Its surface could be compared to Rocky Balboa’s face at the end of the last round of the self-titled movie. Yes it was rough. My Ducati had a clutch actuating system involving several rods & ball bearings - a very Italian solution to a simple engineering exercise. Upon reassembly the clutch lever pulled straight to the bar - something was wrong. One ball bearing, about 6mm diameter had gone missing. This was the sequence of forensic investigations undertaken to find that missing ball:

• Visual inspection - zilch.

• Female visual inspection of the area - double zilch.

• Go over the area with a magnet - triple zilch.

• Sweep the area and sieve the grit through a mesh filter - Quattro zero.

• Go where no man has gone before and vacuum the area then sieve the contents - I GIVE UP.

Head in hands I had to cry enough but lived in hope that it would somehow turn up but all hope was lost when we sold the house and moved.

Fast forward to the Isle of Man TT races in 2012 where we were in the pits with a Welsh rider preparing his Yamaha R6 for the junior races. He was a friend of a friend and a few of us were standing around chatting while he tinkered with the R6. Oh, I dropped a nut! We all heard the metallic tinkle of metal on metal as it dropped. Must be just here somewhere? Now the pits at the TT are somewhat primitive, more akin to my old carport but without the concrete. We all crawled around the rough square of carpet he had laid as well as the surrounding grass but no nut was found.

Now you might say forget it and put on a new nut but what if that nut had lodged somewhere on the bike where it shouldn’t? The consequences on the high speed TT circuit could be fatal. The brains trust resolved that it ‘may’ have dropped down the upturned exhaust so that was all removed and voila, there lay the recalcitrant nut.

So back to where this story began and the recent example of perierat, et inventus est!

Jane and I were with friends riding through Lismore and stopped in a shopping centre carpark. I removed my high viz yellow ear plugs and managed to drop one.

Walk around the bike - nothing. Look under adjacent cars - nothing. Move bikesnothing. How could something so obvious go missing? Returned home with another unsolved mystery. A few weeks passed and I was stripping all of the bodywork off the Gray Ghost before removing the tank to resolve a fuelling issue. I saw a flash of yellow, yes it was the errant earplug that had fallen down a crevasse between the throttle body and right hand cylinder such that it had gone unnoticed for so long. I reasoned that it would have been almost impossible to drop the plug into that tight fitting space if taking aim from close range. Never underestimate the ability of things to vanish without trace.

Now about that missing 10mm socket!

By Tony Malone, Member #67

To take you to the beginning of this story, I had seen a classic black (an iridescent metallic very dark green, paint code 506) BMW R100CS in the paddock at Surfers Paradise Raceway sometime around 1984. It was owned by Dr. Greg Hunter, who hailed from Northern NSW at that time. He might have been an old boy of my high school (Marist Rosalie, where one is his brothers, John was a class-mate), and I envied him owning this beautiful machine. Classic Sport said it all, quite redolent of the R90S. Around September 1985 I decided that I really wanted a Moto Guzzi Le Mans. I lusted after the MkIII, and so the MkIV was surely better? Shaft drive, large fuel tank, and not Japanese. I had a look down at distributor Phil Beaumont’s, and be damned they had given her a 16-inch front wheel. It looked awful, but beside it in the showroom stood a 1981 BMW R100CS, with the features of the Le Mans, but with a 19-inch front wheel. And her Teutonic charms easily outclassed the fiery red-blooded Italian.

Phil was happy to let me have an extended test on this machine, having 18,000km on the odometer, provided I left him with a bank cheque for the purchase price ($4,900.00, he remembers that to this day). At the start the image seemed to hide shortcomings. After owning Japanese 4s (1979 Kawasaki Z650C3 and then a short time with a 1981 Suzuki Katana 1100 – what a machine – and trying what I thought must have been a wonderful evolution from the 650, a Z750, only to be somewhat disappointed) I was used to things that red-lined at about 9,000RPM. Push-rodded 7,200-7,400 was not much, and on Moggill Road just past Grandview Road (I remember it well) I worked out that this thing must have a modest top speed; quick calculation indicating that would be just under 140kph! In frustration I nudged the gear lever, only to find out that there was not 1 but 2 gears to go, and fifth (top) gave about 30kph/1,000RPM. She was not as slow as I thought, and the wonderful torque and driving force suited my riding style. (I learned much later, in the NT of course, that she would hold an indicated 190kph without concern, but the fuel she gobbled taught me that about 140kph was better!) She steered, she was comfortable, and she looked really good. My ride along the Burringbar Ranges when that was the main Pacific Highway cemented the deal. I called Phil and told him he could keep the cheque!

Soon after I met Ron Durkin at Morgan and Wacker in Ross Steet Newstead and he invited me to a Club Meeting at Hamilton Hall. And things have moved from there, with my membership forming the basis of many great rides, memories and acquaintances. And from that time my CS was my main means of transport. Having taken the plunge in 1988 to go racing, and joining the Motorcycle Sportsmen of Queensland to give me the membership to do so, I raced her at Lakeside and Bathurst (1989). I took her touring; I used her on many types of roads (very little stopped her progress) and I rode her most every day for over 20 years. I broke the wheels going to the Off-Centre Rally to WA in 2000, but repaired her to get to the Rally on the Saturday, only to have the gearbox input shaft fail on the Barkly Tablelands! I understand that RACQ ultra assist (of which I was fortunately a member) had her trucked back to my home via WA (her first, and probably only round-Australia trip). She had done a lot of work (about 420 or 520,000km) and really needed a freshenup. And then someone gave me a ride on their R1150RT, and time changed! Tarp over the CS, and I intended to rejuvenate/improve her later on. It never happened (and the battery went flat). I kept paying registration, as it might be hard to get a roadworthy (braided steel brake lines, welded wheels, and other questionable “innovations”).

And there she sat for about 20 years. Late last year something happened and I needed a project. Having purchased a workbench at a Laverda Concourse under the Story Bridge (that long ago) I thought that I could put the CS up on that and get to work. After many hours and dollars (along with the new battery, which is really all she needed to run again, and hoping to have her ready for the 2023 Distinguished Gentlemen’s ride) I got her back on the road, changing the less expensive classic registration to single seat. And I became a distinguished gentleman, riding one of the true classics. This is where I get to the point of this story. I decided to take a trip to Bribie Island to see a mate who lives there to show him she was back on the road. Filling at Kilcoy I remembered that on some of my trips of late out past Nanango I have seen signs to the Murgon-Kilcoy Road. Thinking back, this must have been via the Jimna fire tower, and so I decided to take that path. You see I was on a machine that recognised few obstacles (where the cast plasticine wheels of the later machines would not stand up to the rough stuff) and I had my new suspension to try out with 200mm front travel and 120 rear (8 and 5 inches for those who can recall measurement pre-1975) - see next month’s story on this. My project involved fitting the 40mm Dell’Orto pumpers I used when racing (they have ticklers and not a choke, I could not afford the expensive model as a racer. Neither could I work out how to adapt the standard air filter, and so used ram tubes, staying away from dirt). This, with the close ratio gearbox and 336-degree camshaft (a little more lift, but greater duration on the overlap giving enhanced mid-range power) I used to best advantage. I had done a lot of things over the years, and she could really lift her skirts when needed!

I had been on the Jimna Road before, many years ago. Approaching the Tower from Kilcoy the road becomes unsealed. I often enjoyed the ride from Montville along the Sunday Creek Forestry Road. Back then one could climb the fire tower and appreciate the amazing views, but that ended years ago and it was closed to public access. If you go by it have a look and be amazed at the length of the poles on which the tower sits (and they are spliced only once, the gondola being 47 metres in the sky!) Wikipedia will tell you more, if you have a look at https:// en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jimna_Fire_Tower

Back to the road after the Tower; there has been a bit of rain of late which was enough to dampen the dust, but not enough to cause that almost imperceptible slowing of the machine which indicates boggy ground underneath (indicating a likely slippery and possibly treacherous surface). I was riding at about 6080kph in third gear (good for about 160kph) when

I saw a wallaby cross the road. Being concerned that one might follow the first, I rolled off the throttle. Sure enough the companion appeared, and I was deciding whether to brake, steer to its tail, or just carry on as it would be out of the way when I arrived. The problem was it looked at me (on later reflection it could be the slightly louder exhaust note which alerts animals to my presence, the later illustration of cattle being an example), and then made a U-turn to its right heading back into the scrub. Thank goodness for it remembering its road safety rules!

Not paying sufficient attention to the road I hit a drain hole across the road. The front just soaked it up, with enough force obvious to indicate all of the travel was put to work. No jarring, just smooth travel.

The lack of dust means that there is little to alert one to the approach of traffic. However you just hold your line and keep to the left, and this was enough to avoid the logging trucks that use this road. Riding along there were some cattle on the road, and past experience (and spending a lot of my youth chasing them) let me know that these animals can take fright instantly and rush in front of you. Again, they seemed to be aware of the approach of the machine (looking at me rounding the corner) and so we passed in safety. As you might realise, by now I was feeling quite comfortable on the machine, and the “suspension improvements” were paying off!

We then came to one of those tighter left turns, with the camber quite positive, but the corrugations being visually obvious. Having hit these at the pace I was carrying in the past I expected to feel the jolts through the handlebars, with loss of traction at the rear wheel as I powered through the turn (that is how you ride these older machines, a style which I had forgotten when riding those more contemporary). However, she just tracked true, the rear wheel kept contact and the front did nothing other than take me through the corner. While I might not be riding as hard as I had in the past (and I think that I was not down on pace) what I do know is that the machine just carried me through with confidence. The suspension worked, and makes an already nice ride even better.

I found my way back to the Burnett Highway and Nanango. On this ride nothing had deterred me. Clearly I had attained the outcome to which I aspired. There are quite a number of details that need more revision (the rear-set footrests are a little too far back to be as comfortable as I would like, with the ¾ solo seat giving a range of seating positions that I am yet to find most suitable to me). However, the project is coming along fine, and I know that as this is my machine and so in this quest ............I amAlone