History Part 1
In
August 1982 I was 24 and living in
My
biking history started with a Yamaha FS1E (a sixteener special 50cc built to
get around the
One
university holiday I got myself a decent job and spent the proceeds exchanging
the Honda for a Norton Commando 750. It was the realisation of a dream for me,
but the reality was a nightmare. Burnt valves, broken exhausts, brakes that
didn’t, cracked mainstand, two broken clutch cables and eventually a horrible
crash (caused by me being distracted by the carbs being on fire) all in about 6
weeks…. The Norton was a burnt out write off, and Dad bought me a car… the less
said about that the better.
A
year later I graduated and started my first job with Westland Helicopters in
Yeovil,
A
week after I landed in SA I went into the Yamaha dealer to buy an XJ650, and
came out with the XJ750, which had just been uncrated. One of the first ones in
the country. I did 40,000 km on it in 10 months (yes, really) and it was this
bike which was now awaiting repair. I’d come over the top of a blind rise in
the rain to discover a stationery queue of traffic on the other side. Put quite
a nice V in the boot of the car I landed on, and bent the forks and frame but
not much else. At the time I bought the Ducati I thought the Yam would get
written off. It didn’t and I had to keep paying for it!
Back
to that shop… In 1982 Ducati wasn’t the mainstream manufacturer that they are
today. I don’t have figures to hand, and no doubt someone will correct me, but
I guess they make 10 times more bikes now than they did then. If I remember
rightly, they were virtually bust at the time and the range consisted of
500
& 600 Pantahs
900
Darmah SD
900SS
& MHR
When
you know that all the 900s basically used the same motor with or without
electric start, and the 600 was a 500 with bigger pistons, that was a fairly
small range. The bikes were well reviewed in the press at the time, but cost
more than BMWs and were renowned for having great handling but being unreliable
and expensive to maintain. Reputations that still haunt the company today!
I’d
first ridden a Ducati a few months after I bought the z400. The shop I bought
it from (Riders in Yeovil) had an open day with a new range of Kawasakis and
Italian bikes for test rides. Being a recent customer they were happy to let me
book a couple of 45 minute rides so I chose to test the new z1300 six cylinder
So
there I was in the Ducati shop trying to make my mind up which one to buy. The
Pantah (which can trace its lineage right through to the 999) was already
making a name for itself as a giant killer, and was very tempting, but I’m a
big guy so they recommended the 900 bevel motor. The prices were all close
enough that if I was going to buy one I could afford any of them, and the
Hailwood Replica was the most expensive, and therefore exclusive, of the bunch.
After about 24 hours of thinking about it I ordered the Hailwood. 20 years down
the line, I kind of wish it had been an SS, but a Hailwood it was, and at the
time I was happy about the decision.
Eventually
all the purchasing procedures were completed, and I attempted to leave the
shop. It was a hot afternoon, and by the time I’d learnt to kickstart the big
engine I was sweating like a pig. The clutch was heavy, the steering was heavy,
the new engine was running hot and heat was pouring out from behind the fairing
onto my legs. Ducatis still aren’t easy to ride in town, but in 1982 they were
much worse… After the do-it-all, user-friendly Yamaha, I hated it with a
vengeance. What had I done?
I
took it over to see some friends, and on the way experienced just once or twice
the beginnings of the rumbling torque curve as the road opened up in front of
me… and the incredible stability at any speed. Unfortunately revs were limited
to something stupid like 4000 rpm, so it was only just starting to work by the
time I had to change up, but it held promise.
By
the time I got to my friends’ place, the number plate had vibrated itself loose
and disappeared and the brake light bulb had blown…. The crowd had a good laugh
at my expense, especially as one of them had taken delivery of a brand new car
that day for the same price. Looking at it from today, I guess I made the
better buy…. That Renault 5 is surely rotting on a scrap heap or housing
chickens somewhere.
Pic taken on my parents driveway, 29/8/82, 1
day old!
Went
back into town on the Saturday morning to complain, and got a new bulb and a
voucher for new plate from somewhere on the outskirts of town. By the time I
got there I was cross and angry again. Anyway, new plate fitted, and off back
round to the mates. Managed to drop the bike (very gently on its side, but
enough to lightly scratch the paint) trying to do a three-point-turn in a tight
space. More huge guffaws from behind.
Two
weeks of commuting and running in pass by, and the bike seems better provided I
stay out of town. I suppose I should point out that this was my only form of
transport and my daily commuter… not exactly a recipe for a great relationship.
Fortunately I didn’t work in town at the time. I was still in the aircraft
industry, and work was out near the airport.
Finally
the motor was run in, and the oil changed. The crowd announced a weekend in the
Eastern Transvaal, South Africa’s motorcycling paradise. OK I’m up for that. We
were a motley collection… a z750, XS750, a z1100 shaftie and a brand new 1100
Gold Wing (My favourite joke from the weekend: They were going to call it a
Lead Wing, but they found out gold was heavier…). I spent the weekend out on my
own, riding faster than anyone there and thoroughly enjoying the Hailwood. It
was the first bike I’d ever had that happily pulled through 160 km/h (100 mph)
on the straight bits. In fact, that was its comfortable cruising speed where
everything came together. Well I guess this was what I’d bought it for, and it
was wonderful out here. I’d just have to put up with the town side of things
for the pleasure of the open road.
I’d
had it about a month or two when Dave moved in to the house. I’d bought the
house knowing that I’d need a lodger to help pay the mortgage, and Dave
answered the ad. I gave him directions to the house ending with ‘It’s the one
with a big red motorbike on the drive’.
We immediately hit it off… he had a CB900F Honda and was a British
ex-pat too. He arrived a couple of hours later with a six pack of beer and we
sat and chatted all evening. I think he gave me a deposit for the rent before
he left and moved in a few days later.
Our
weekly routine included a ‘Breakfast Run’ on Sunday mornings. If motorcycling was
our religion then the church was ‘Stywelyne’ at Hartebeespoort Dam some 120 km
from the house. Every week we would blast over there for a greasy breakfast and
choose a different route home. There was always much good-natured banter about
who was the best rider and whose bike was fastest.
I’m
not sure how the conversation developed, but one evening we decided to go out
and swap bikes. We took our own bikes out for about 10km and stopped on the
side of the road. Dave jumped on the Hailwood and roared off. I screamed after
him on the Honda. At 165 km/h I backed off and let him go. The Honda was gently
weaving and threatening to get nasty if I went any faster. Dave disappeared
into the distance. 15 km down the road he was parked on the left and I pulled up
behind him. Before I’d got my helmet off he said ‘Tell you one thing; your
speedo reads very fast. It said I was doing 160 down there, and there’s no way
I was!’ He got very thoughtful when I told him what the Honda had been doing.
About three months later he sold the Honda and bought a black and gold 900SS.
Although
we rode together quite a lot, he never really got on with the SS. For some
reason the forks never seemed to work for him. I’m heavier and maybe that makes
the difference. He sold it, after endless front fork strips, to mutual friend,
Kevin. More on this bike later….
The
Ducati always had the ability to cover distance at very illegal speeds and not
feel like it was trying, hence Dave’s comment and also Keith’s about the Darmah
test ride. In these days of megahorse superbikes that’s not so unusual, but in
the early eighties it was unique to a couple of exotic marques. Of course it
continuously got me into trouble with the law.
In
One
night I was given a R200 ticket for doing something like 160km/h in a 120
limit, which at the time was enough to buy 300 litres of petrol. My mate Terry
at work said ‘give me the ticket’. Two days later he gave me a receipt for R60
and the stamped ticket back. He had a wife who was pregnant and due to go into
labour any day. She had been to see the
Public Prosecutor and told him she had phoned work for Terry as she thought she
was going into labour, but because he was out I had come flying across town to
help her! She got her R60 back and a big bottle of wine to say thanks.
That
was unusual though, most of them I just had to pay up. I guess the tickets cost
me about R1000 over the 18 months I rode it regularly. Luckily there’s no
points system over there, it’s purely a fund raising exercise.
In
late November of ’82 (Summer in Southern Hemisphere) I was following Dave and Honda
back from Hartebeespoort Dam one Sunday morning. He started to slow for a
chicane, and I didn’t, just cruised past him and hurled it in to the right.
Fairing scraping gently I picked it up, and swung it over the other side,
fairing now down hard on the left. I put the power back on just as I hit the
dusty patch on the road, and the bike slid away at 130 kph, and dumped me on
the tar. I got away with a bloody knee, but the bike was a bit of a mess. A
typical lowside, it was scratched up the left of the fairing, and bits of
footrest, silencer etc. were damaged. Not too bad.
The
quote was R3500, or half the price of the new bike. I was furious, completely
convinced by this time that the dealers were a bunch of thieving scum. I put in
a quote to fix it myself, and came away with a cheque for about R2800. Of
course I should have used it to fix the bike properly, but instead I borrowed
Dave’s Honda and went to
Now
I had to fix the Ducati on the cheap. A pattern 600 Pantah fairing was obtained
for next to nothing, and bolted on quickly and easily, with no paint or
finesse. I partly blamed the MHR fairing for the accident, so didn’t want it on
any more. Besides it now had some fairly serious structural damage. The broken
bits were replaced, and the bike just used that way from January to August. In
that first year I covered 36000 km, even though it was off the road for six
weeks due to the crash.
In
August a friend virtually gave me an old Honda 400 ‘Superdream’. It wasn’t
taxed or insured, but it gave me the transport I needed to give the Ducati a
good service. I’d always been meticulous with oil changes using 5l of very
expensive Agip Sint 2000 every 3000km, but everything else now needed attention
including the dreaded desmodromic valve gear.
I
bodged the Honda together, and used it to commute for a couple of weeks while I
pulled the Ducati apart. I decided, since it was going to be down for a while,
to get the paintwork re-done. I’d already spent a weekend up to my armpits in
fibreglass mat and resin fixing up the old MHR fairing, so as soon as the
bodywork was off, all of it was dropped off at a friend of mine who owned a
panel beaters.
This
was the first time I’d had to use the dealer to do anything since the insurance
quote, but there was no way I was going to attempt the scary valve gear myself.
I minimised my exposure to ‘mugging by maintenance’ by agreeing with them to
remove the heads myself, and take them in for the shimming work. It’s easy to
get the heads off, they said, just remove two of the three engine bolts and
pivot it down on the third. I followed their advice, and after a moment of
panic while the whole engine’s weight was hanging on the alternator wires, I
got the motor down and the heads off. It was great to see the tops of those two
86mm pistons, but I wanted to know what condition the bores were in after 37000
km. I lifted the barrels, and popped the pistons out as well. The regular
changes of good oil had done well… the original honing marks were still visible
in the bores, and there were no marks on the pistons.
The
heads were eventually finished. It cost more than quoted (surprise!) due to
having to reface the exhaust valves and replace the seats. I guess I left it a
bit late. Anyway, they bolted back on and everything went together easily and
it started first kick. The rest of the bike was all done, new tyres, oil
changed in forks, new chain and sprockets etc. while it sat waiting for the
bodywork.
Finally
I got the call… the red is finished, come and do the lining for the yellow.
Yellow? I’d seen a TT2 arrive in a crate one night and the colours were just
amazing. I’d decided to copy the red and yellow paint scheme. When I saw the
red, I thought twice. It was just beautiful in plain red. After half an hour’s
decision making we sat and masked it up for the yellow paint, and I left it in
his capable hands. When I went back two days later it looked phenomenal. I
gently loaded it all in a borrowed car and took it home.
Bolted
it all up that evening, took it to work the following morning, and left at
lunchtime for a weekend in the
One
story from the weekend….
One
guy, Robin, turned up with a new Laverda RGS and a Bimota SB2 on a trailer. Our
first run on Saturday was down the famous Sabie to Hazyview road. This is a
wonderful series of bends for about 40 km. I set off fairly near the front, and
picked off the couple of bikes in front of me fairly quickly. Riding fast I
left the pack behind and quickly convinced myself that I was the fastest guy
there. A few seconds into my gloating the Bimota passed me round the outside of
a left hander like I was standing still, followed by a huge guy on a Laverda Jota. A few seconds later a black Laverda RGS
Corsa came past as well. I caught up with them all about 30km further on,
parked on the left. I stopped. ‘You ride that Ducati well’ said Robin in a
Northern Irish drawl. ‘Er, how do you know?’ I said, ‘you didn’t exactly follow
me for very long.’ ‘Well, you wouldn’t be here yet if you didn’t.’ was his
reply, full of Irish logic. Given that it was a couple of minutes before anyone
else turned up, I guess I had been going a bit, but these guys were much faster. I walked over to have a
look at the Bimota. I’d been fascinated by them for years. ‘That goes a bit
well’ I said. ‘Yeah it’s OK. But look at this.’ Robin grabbed the right side
clip on handlebar and it was loose on the fork. Very loose. I wouldn’t have
ridden it at 50 km/h never mind the speeds they’d been hitting. I was to ride
with Robin many times after that, and every time he was faster, smoother and
almost certainly safer than me. Never did work out his secret.
Leading Keith Sadler on the Jota… he was
running out of petrol!
Monday morning, back at work, I finally got to take some pictures of the new paintjob. Note that the yellow paint is already worn through where the fairing touches down; the legacy of a fine weekend, and the precursor of things to come. The number plate had fallen off and been stuck on with tape temporarily!
A
couple of months later I set off on my annual Christmas holiday pilgrimage to
Now
The
holiday lasted three weeks and the plan was to ride right up the coast from
I
knew immediately what was wrong, I just thought it had worked long enough for
it not to happen. Remember the moment when I dropped the engine and left it
hanging on the alternator wires? Well they’d finally let go, and the charging
system had stopped working miles back. The bike had run on just fine until the
battery was flat, and then it died. So here I was stranded with a dead battery
and a dead charging system half way between two towns where no-one had ever
heard of Ducatis. Now what?
We’d
been there maybe 5 minutes when a yellow VW flatbed went past in the opposite
direction. One minute later it was back and pulling up beside us. The biggest
human I’ve ever met got out. He was enormous and had a huge bushy beard.
Nearest thing I’ve ever seen to a Yeti. It turned out he was German, was called
‘Ziggy’, lived in Piet Retief and owned a Guzzi Le Mans III. He instantly took
over, commandeered the help of a passing African, and manhandled the bike into
the back of the van. He drove to his house in Piet Retief, and unloaded the
Duke into his garage next to the
Next
morning I stripped the fairing and alternator cover off while Tim went off to
by some wire and a soldering iron. The old wire was cut off very close to the
alternator and a piece of white 3 core lighting flex (the only cable available
in the local shop) was soldered into place. The recharged battery was
installed, and the trusty motor fired first kick. It’s never failed again, and
the horrible white flex is still there!
That
afternoon we reached White River in the
After
a couple of hours we realised we were going to have to ride home in the rain,
so made our way to the bikes. We started off riding very slowly, and it was wet
and cold. At one point I picked up the speed a bit for some reason and
discovered that the faster I went the better the fairing worked. Soon I’d left
Tim behind and was cruising at 160km/h in shorts in the rain, thoroughly
enjoying myself and staying dry! I came over the top of a hill and the road
dropped straight down the other side for maybe a kilometre. I opened her up
even more and came down the hill at about 200. As I got to the bottom I
realised that the road was flooded for about 50m where the rain was pouring
across the road. I braked as long and hard as I dared, then let them off and
held a steady throttle. I hit the water doing about 160, and aquaplaned all the
way across. Came out the other side still upright, and carried on, just as fast
but taking a bit more notice of the conditions. I think I beat Tim home by a
shower and a beer that afternoon. His XS with no fairing was happier at 60.
That
afternoon Dave arrived with girlfriend, Penny, and we celebrated New Year’s Eve
in the bar.
The
following day,
Next
run, I was pushing a bit harder, fairing down hard on the left, when I hit a
slight bump in the corner. It was enough to compress the suspension with the
fairing grounded out, and lift the rear wheel off the floor. The Duke went down
on the left much as it had a year earlier. Once I hit the ground I was ripped
off the bike and pummelled from every angle and lost track of the bike until I
saw it hit the verge and flip up in the air. It landed on the screen and tank
and disappeared into the long grass and rocks.
Thanks
to the leathers I was virtually unhurt. One of my gloves had split along a
seam, and I had a small scratch on my thumb. I also had a nylon burn on my
elbow from the lining of the suit. Amazing. What I would have looked like if
I’d gone down wearing what I’d been in the day before I hate to think. There
wasn’t a six-inch square of leather anywhere in the suit that didn’t have a
scratch on.
This
time the bike was a big mess. The fairing was smashed, the tank had been almost
flattened on the left side. The front wheel was bent, the forks were bent. I’d
later discover the frame was bent. The speedo was smashed. I managed to get it
on a trailer that was going back to Jo’burg, and delivered to the dealer. It
was declared a write off, and sent to a breaker’s yard. Weeks later I got a
call to collect a cheque for R5500 in settlement. I drove into Jo’burg and
picked it up, then went straight round to the breakers. I wrote a cheque for
R1600 and three days later collected the bike with a spare front wheel, forks,
and speedo.
There
are ways to rebuild bikes, and there are ways to screw them up. In the
exuberance of youth I decided to build something ‘a bit trick’. One of my not
so clever ideas was to satin chrome plate the frame… (Dave’s SS, later to be
mine, and my 82 Alfa Giulietta in the background).
Unfortunately
I ran out of money after buying loads of bits, none of which really worked, and
ended up bodging the paintwork and details to get it back on the road. I never
did sort it out properly, or get it legally re-registered, and in November I
sold it to friend, Henry, as part of a deal to get me a Bimota SB3 frame kit.
That bike is a story all to itself, but for the time being my Ducati days were
over.
The
SB3 cost me an absolute fortune. Over the best part of a year I spent twice
what I’d paid for the MHR building the Bimota. It had the full Bimota frame kit
and a full stage 2 Yoshimura 1100cc GS1000 Suzuki motor. It was very fast, but
not a lot of fun to ride for some reason. I’d loved the idea of a single seat,
but once I’d got one I hated the fact I couldn’t take a girlfriend with me
anywhere. After melting two pistons and paying out another small fortune to
have it fixed I decided it had to go, and sold it for less than half what it
had cost to build.
Meanwhile
the Hailwood went to live with Henry. He immediately ripped off the Pantah
fairing and 2 into 1 I’d put on it, and fitted the ‘NCR replica’ fairing that
I’d bought but totally failed to fit. It was a two piece fairing, but it just
didn’t work. Henry, who’s pretty good with fibreglass, joined both bits
together to make it one piece, the cut it along the bottom so that you can get
it on and off. I suspect he also made it weigh twice as much, but I can’t prove
it. He got it on, but had to go back to the original pipes with Silentiums to
do it. I guess it had to be done to get it through the roadworthy test for
re-registration as well. He then did something I’ve never quite forgiven him
for; he painted it Laverda orange. Ugh!
At
some time during his ownership he pulled the heads and barrels and cleaned out
the sludge traps in the crank. That all seems to have gone well, but for some
reason the front cam picked up sometime later. He got round it by taking some
off the base circle, but it never ran too well after that, and it got sidelined
in his garage.
Ooops…
letter from Henry correcting me on some issues…
By the way, there are a lot of gaps in your history of the
Duke not least of which is the fact that it was painted orange white and black
(the sponsors colors - Carlton Packaging) for the Total economy run, 1985,
which it completed at a much higher average speed than anything else and won no
prizes for being economical. It also dragged its fairing all over the road just
as it had for you, which was a bit scary going up Robber's Pass. (A lunatic road
with very fast corners, superb surface, and sheer drops and cliff faces if you
get it wrong…S)
You also omitted to mention that much of the bike was in a
tree after you tossed it down the drag in E.T. and that I had to straighten the
forks and yokes after I got it from you 'cos they were still bent. All in all I
think I did about 12000km on it but a lot didn't show on the speedo 'cos the
cable kept breaking. As long as the rev counter worked it was okay.
As for for polishing the cam, Jan did that and said
quite clearly at the time that he had taken less than 10 microns off it which
in his words was "nothing". I think Jan knows his stuff. The reason
for the scuff was that Deller had shimmed it a bit tight 'cos he had not
supported the one end of the cam when he did it. Jan assured me that the cam
would be fine which it was, 'cos I thrashed it plenty after that. I don't know
why you changed it. (I didn’t Steve did…S)
Don't forget that the sludge traps were cleaned not long
after I got it from you. The original screws were very difficult to get out.
They were replaced with Allen screws made especially for the job, which
you will see quite clearly if you ever take a head and barrel off again and
take a look inside. Next time you have to do it, it will be easy.
H
Thanks
Henry!
The
afternoon I sold the Bimota I phoned Kevin and made him an offer for the 900SS
Dave had sold him. It had been in his shed with the heads off for a year. A
deal was struck and the bike came home. The same day there was a Darmah SSD
advertised in the local paper for next to nothing. It was tatty and had been
painted matt black with a stick by a blind man, but it had 40mm Dell’Ortos and
Conti silencers on. I bought the whole bike for the price of a pair of new
Contis, and took it home. The rest of the weekend was spent cleaning up bores
and fitting carbs and Contis to the SS (it had been an emasculated model with
32mm carbs and Silentiums).
The
SS turned out to be even fun than the Hailwood. It was a little lighter, and
lower geared. I had some fantastic rides on the SS, and owned it for maybe 18
months, but the best one was back on that Hazyview to Sabie road one day in
1986. My girlfriend at the time, Lee, had broken her leg ice skating and had
been in a cast for weeks. She didn’t want to stay home, so we’d arranged her a
ride up in a car, and I’d met her there. On this particular afternoon she was
fed up with sitting around the camp while we went out riding, so I sat her on
the pillion and duct taped her foot to the footrest! The ride split up bit by
bit, until there was just the three bikes riding together. The other two were
Dave, on a GSX-R750, and Rick on a Bimota KB3, both riding solo. I rode the
wheels off the Ducati and managed to keep up with them, making up in the
corners what I lost down the straights. On one very fast right hander, with a
cliff face in front of me, the bike wobbled violently in the corner, and then
straightened up again. Turns out Lee’s foot had fallen off the rest and started
dragging on the road… the wobble was her picking it up and putting it back!
In
87 I got into a pile of debt and sold the SS and everything else I had to get
sorted out. It was to be three years before I had another bike, and 17 before I
owned another Ducati.