Born to be Mild

In an old motor racing video that I have, a tribute to the legendary Gilles Villeneuve, whilst explaining how Gilles drove flat-out on the roads because he was used to the world passing by him quickly, his widow Joann came out with the phrase “normality is relative”. Well, duh - d’you think so, Joann?

I mocked that phrase heavily in my youth, self-obvious as it seemed at the time, but it was what sprang to mind as I commuted aboard a bike for the first time in heavy traffic and gathering gloom. On balance the RiDE Thundercat exceeded my expectations - she’s not concourse by any stretch of the imagination, but that was never her purpose; she’s 15 years old, with 51k on the clock, plucked from Ebay for less than a grand., for heaven’s sake. But with all that in mind, she’s not in bad nick at all, testimony to Matt’s tender ministerings. Scruffy maybe, a little worn around the edges, but then I‘m no oil painting myself.

Starting her up was no problem - apply the choke and a touch of the button and away we went. Just the lightest, briefest twist of the throttle and she raced up and down the rev range like a Formula One car; cue a big grin at the angry, flighty bark of the inline four. You see, this is where the “normality is relative” thing comes in - for most folks who’ve got miles under their belt, blipping the throttle of a 600cc sports tourer almost old enough to legally sleep with wouldn’t rank as a particularly memorable or praiseworthy moment. But those miles you’ve got behind you, I’ve never done; that’s about to change, but in the meantime, the dear old ‘Cat is to me a thing of wondrous beauty in all her function-over-form glory.

Jumping aboard she feels fantastically sporty, all bent legs and stretched arms, with an aggressive clutch and that flyweight-like-a-thimble motor, but I know that’s just in comparison to the unfaired parallel- and V-twins I’ve ridden before. I rejoice in the simple pleasure of the nod of the occasional oncoming biker in town before heading out onto swoopy A roads through countryside and villages straight out of Beatrix Potter.

I’m happy enough to cruise along in the traffic on some fairly dirty roads, feeling my way back into the riding. The ‘Cat is happy enough to grumble along at low revs, apart from an overtake of a car tootling along at thirty in a national speed limit zone - MCN’s review says all the power is above 6000rpm but I don’t have to drop a cog, all I have to do is check that the way is clear ahead, behind and alongside; then I just crack the throttle open and me and the ‘Cat are sprinting by the dawdling car like we were fired out of the proverbial cannon. Underneath the helmet I give a cackle born of fear and exhilaration - I cherish moments like this because I know that familiarity will soon make that dart of acceleration feel pretty mundane. As much as I mocked her in my youth, I have to confess now that Joann was right, normality IS relative and at the moment, the ‘Cat is definitely not normal for me, and I’m well outside my relative comfort zone.

Rush-hour traffic is a different matter and, I cannot tell a lie, we have more than one stall, the lightswitch clutch and zero flywheel engine requiring a familiarity and commitment I don’t yet have, but that’ll come with time - I don’t care; I’m in no rush. I have cause to sprint down a dual carriageway slip road to merge with the traffic, giving the throttle the good news all the way to a heady seven grand on the clock and oh my gaaawd, it feels like I’ve been hit from behind by a top fuel dragster. Old or not, the motor feels awesome, easy to lug around but with bags of poke on full loud, the brakes have feel and bite when you need them to, and it tips through the turns with ease - it’s almost like I can simply point my head at where I want to go and that’s where it takes me. I remember learning the concept and being impressed with how well it worked on old tatty school ER5s, but on the ‘Cat it’s so much better it’s like it reads my mind. If it works this well on a high-mileage sports tourer, how good could it be on a lightweight 250 2 stroke or a supersports 600...?

One thing I love about the ‘Cat that you won’t get on your shiny new supersport 600 is carbs - such a lovely organic feel, even to the point of the odd fluff when I get all fancy and try to blip my down changes, although it would probably work better if I was blipping from, say, 8000rpm instead of 3000 rpm… The poor motor was probably wondering what was happening - either the temperature gauge doesn’t work or I was going so slow it never got to 60 degrees C; if it had been a 2 stroke I’d have been fouling plugs for sure - but even so, she would give lovely soft pops and burbles on the overrun.

Getting home took some time, but I had a smile on my face all the way. The only irritant was the traffic, and I know from previous scooter exploits that two wheels rule when it comes to traffic, although that’s a refresher lesson for another day. For the moment, ‘Cat and I are just getting acquainted - her abilities are nothing compared to a sports bike of today, but for a new guy like me, as tame as she is, the speed with which things could get out of hand is an ever-present thought. For now, we’ll proceed with caution…