Riders come and go, and we crane our necks, watching new arrivals with interest, speculating who they might be. A slender lady introduces herself to me as Rian, and it is a bit disconcerting when her friends call her Ri. We chat about a mutual friend from Eastern Cape who also happens to be family of another well-known WD. Rian feels the CRF300L's front is too soft. She is there with Kevin and Angus, from Honda. The Honda guys idly wonder about a girl on a DRZ400 who was at the Tankwa XC Rally in 2019.
"It was me, on a DR650. The back tyre was flat and Eddie2Race's team fixed it for me", I tell them, amused. DRZ400? I wish!
"Do you now John... um..." asks Jonathan.
"John Lanham? Yes, I rode with them in the bakkie".
"I read a while ago about a broken handlebar. That was you, wasn't it? What happened there?" Angus asks. Rian is also curious to know what happened and how I fixed it.
Whoa, he remembers that? I show them the photo's of the bike with the broken handlebar lying in the middle of the R356, and the twig and strap that held it together until I got to civilisation. "Hardcore", says Angus.
Lance and Zanie arrive, eager to test ride the CRF300L. First Zanie follows Lance around the track, then Lance and Murray go for a spin together. Zanie isn't too keen on the L, but Jonathan from Honda says that unless there's specific demand, Honda don't plan on bringing any Rallies. This is a pity, because the tank is 4l larger and it has LED lights, something Zanie really wants.
Later on, Lance and Zanie take the 450L and 300L on the tar road for a speed test. It seems the 300L can reach and maintain 120kph with ease, but develops a rather unnerving head shake. It could be the effect of the knobbly on the front though, which had been deflated a bit for the off road riding.
By this time our boerewors is braaied. Lunch is ready and we fall on it like a pack of wolves. Afterwards, Chantal spoils us with the sweetest watermelon.
I circle the CRF300L apprehensively. I want to take it for a test ride, but I'm nervous of everyone watching me make a fool of myself. I prefer to make a fool of myself by myself somewhere remote, and then writing about it. I'm being foolish though; everyone is enjoying their lunch and chatting to each other; no one is watching me.
I quickly don my helmet and gloves and approach the bike stealthily, but the moment I lay a hand on it, a crowd magically appears around me. Quasi-nonchalantly I ask Hardy to please lower the preload, which he told us earlier is on its highest setting. He insists that I get on the bike as is to see whether I'm comfortable. I'm on the balls of my feet, and he assures me it's enough, and encourages me to get going.
Murray appears next to me on the CRF450L and offers to take me on a little loop. I pull away and quickly disappear through the trees and down the wide gravel road. I take a wide turn on the road and then follow Murray around the other cottages, expecting gravel roads until we circle back to the Manor. But Murray suddenly turns off onto a little twee-spoor covered in sand.
I shudder to a halt start swearing at Murray in my helmet. I am wearing the minimum of safety gear - boots, gloves and helmet - because I only expected to do gravel roads, and now he takes me bundu bashing. He comes back and encourages me to get on the pegs, but I'm too nervous. Last time I saw terrain like this, I broke a fibula. Now, I'm also on a bike that is new and strange to me, and I'm not adequately protected.
I continue to swear at Murray as I tippy-toe along the sandy road, which apparently ends just around the bend. Sure enough the sand ends, but so does the road, which turns into mountain bike trail. The single track twist and turns through the fynbos and I follow it gingerly. Every now and then Murray stops to check up on me. I try to ride in 1st gear but it is too slow and the bike whines at me. I pull in the clutch a bit. Soon my hand starts burning, and I'm pretty sure I can smell the clutch burning too. The bike's fan kicks in, whirring earnestly. I tell Murray, worried that I'm killing the bike, but he just shrugs it off. "It'll be fine", he says.
We follow the track between two rocks and on the other side, I try to paddle the bike down, my legs against the rocks beside me getting higher and higher. I'm stuck. "Where do I put my feet to get down from here?" I ask Murray, who's come back to check on me yet again. He gives me a look of pure exasperation: "On the pegs."
I realise he is right. Or course he is. I put my feet on the pegs and push off with a prayer, coming to a shaky stop in the little dip below. The bike tilts and I kick out with my left foot to catch it. The foot bends and a fireball explodes through it. I hunch over the handlebar in agony, waiting for the burn to fade. Murray comes back again, and I decide to let him ride the bike down the last steep incline as I hobble down. I'm a bit disappointed with myself for letting someone else ride my bike down after I promised not to do it again, but then I remind myself that it's not my bike, and I'm not adequately protected, and I feel better.
Murray encourages me every time I stop, telling me how to tackle the bridge, the rocks, the ditches. I reckon he must think I'm an idiot who doesn't belong on a bike, but his support is unfaltering. When I make it over the harsh bits, he beams like a proud coach. Thanks
@Fuzzy Muzzy , it really was a jol, and exactly the kind of terrain I'm eager to conquer. And this is definitely the bike to do it on.
When I bring the bike to a halt at the Honda gazebo, perspiration drips off my face. I park the bike, yank off my helmet and gloves and head for the cooler box, intent on getting a beer. They only have long toms and I grab one, then sit down and join the general discussion around the CFR300L and different brands of kit, MX boots vs Adventure boots, 250 Rally vs 300 L, and so forth.
Topic: Alice in Hondaland: Not-A-Honda-Launch Report (Read 1038 times)
