I had one of these once. That’s because I always wanted a sidecar bolted onto a machine that might have seen service in Manchuria with the People’s Liberation Army.
Wow. So a year zipped by and no bikes were ridden. Thing is, my girl and I were driving out to dinner on the night of June 15 last year in her sweet, nippy Fiat […]
Look at this beautiful machine. The picture was taken just after sunrise on the bridge over the Crocodile River at the Broederstroom T-junction.
THERE’S a trick to kicking a big bike into life. Ask me, I once owned a big old Yamaha XT500 which turned winter into summer as I kicked and sweated and swore while hunting for that sweet spot that would stir the reluctant motor into purring happiness.
We don’t get a lot of fat-tyre bikes in South Africa and that’s a strange thing indeed.
IT’S nearly ten years since I sold my last motorcycle. “She” was a pretty Irish-green BMW R60/6, a 1974 classic Boxer-engine, smooth-talking banger with a rumble in her heart and a crisp throttle.