jimjim
Race Dog
- Joined
- Jun 7, 2011
- Messages
- 756
- Reaction score
- 0
- Bike
- MZ (all models)
Going down the second hill before you get to Oasis I could feel the rear tyre biting into the loose Cederberg gravel, spitting out the excess stones as I powerslid around the corner at 148km/h. I had already left the DR and the KLRs behind in a cloud of dust and now had the watercooled boxer in my sight. I could see his front wheel getting nervous as he desperately tried to outrun me. At the bottom of the hill I caught up, wheelied next to him through the thick sand in the short narrow straight and passed him on the steep uphill as the superior power of my steed outstripped his best attempts.
At the top of the hill I saw the 1190R. He had passed me with some aplomb on the wide flat straight gravel - there where we saw the two, who had left three hours earlier, at the side of the road struggling with what I presume respectively would be a broken water pump on the Dakar and electrical problems with the 690.
The big Orange was at the bottom of the long downrun of the last hill. I could hear the loud V-twin breathing deep. It didn't sound strained but I knew it was close to the limits. I was now doing 203km/h and only slowly catching it, the muddy stretch taking some oomph out of the grip. I blipped another bit out of my throttle, felt the chain jerk the last few horses out of the crank, whooped over a small bump and aimed for the red rear light I could now discern through the thick dust.
Pic of Cederberg road:
At the top of the hill I saw the 1190R. He had passed me with some aplomb on the wide flat straight gravel - there where we saw the two, who had left three hours earlier, at the side of the road struggling with what I presume respectively would be a broken water pump on the Dakar and electrical problems with the 690.
The big Orange was at the bottom of the long downrun of the last hill. I could hear the loud V-twin breathing deep. It didn't sound strained but I knew it was close to the limits. I was now doing 203km/h and only slowly catching it, the muddy stretch taking some oomph out of the grip. I blipped another bit out of my throttle, felt the chain jerk the last few horses out of the crank, whooped over a small bump and aimed for the red rear light I could now discern through the thick dust.
Pic of Cederberg road:
