No Way Out — Test Drives — Cycle Canada

1 Фев 2015 | Author: | Комментарии к записи No Way Out — Test Drives — Cycle Canada отключены
Ural Gear Up Outfit

No Way Out

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Shhh. it is. See it hiding in the brush? An … Gear-Up ready to pounce on prey. Or, more likely, by a dejected Neil Graham.

A confidence is a bad thing. The path the trees ahead of me is narrowing and I that feeling of invincibility precedes most disasters. blame this unwarranted on my Ural Desert Camo sidecar rig with its psychedelic and green livery, its purposeful 2WD and its prominently mounted spare

Something that looks this can’t get stuck.

My day at the CURDan awkward acronym for Ural/Dnepr riders grouprally outside of Peterborough, Ont. well enough. I register at the receive a plastic drinking mug flashing LED lights, and then a tech session already in The CURD website described the as “a group of people joined by fear and the bond of but those attending the tech are neither fearful nor bonding.

look like they’re asleep.

Heading the tech is Ural dealer Ken Beach, of Old Vintage Cranks in Hillsburgh, Beach confesses that he still owns a bevel-drive 900SS, he was always attracted to 500 cc parallel twins, widely Bologna’s worst motorcycle. then again I guess I like terrible things,” he before rethinking his comments, wait, don’t put that Beach covers valve carburetor synchronizing and oil changes, and his love of Russian motorcycles to uniqueness and simplicity, the latter active owner involvement in and customization. Customization? Really? true,” Beach says, see a lot of bikes with deep oil

After the tech session I over to a pristine white and meet Konrad Zeh. His is a new machine with only 49 and he tries to sell me his previous an ’03 Ural Northern for $8,000. Why did you buy a new one, I ask. do people buy new cars?” he replies. I don’t have an answer he “I like it because I have to put my feet down and good on streetcar tracks.

My uses the old one for shopping,” he adds, at me expectantly, as if word of his wife’s may cement a deal. Leaning the fuel tank of his showroom-fresh rig I ask if he that his tank decal is off. “It’s Russian,” he with a shrug, not feeling the to explain further.

My sidecar totals 10 kilometres on an Ural rig years ago, so I seek before I leave on the scavenger “There is a technique to riding says an owner with a expression, “go slow.” I in behind Dave Corbett and his Ural Patrol. Corbett that he bought it as a toy to go along his Gold Wing and’69 and hopes that it will be for getting into the hunting in fall, “but I still I’ll take along a and tackle, just in case.” The hunt is a three-hour back tour that ideally a navigator, as the directions (“go after the bridge but if you go over the you’ve gone too far”) me riding with one hand and the directions aloft with the

One of the first items on the scavenger list is Queen Anne’s and we’re directed to a specific on a country road to look for it. An couple on a Harley sidecar rig are aloft a plant and wondering they’ve found it. Corbett his helmet off. “That’s not Anne’s lace,” he says, ragweed,” which sends the head-down back into the

My interest in combing ditches on a hot afternoon fades and I set off on a pleasure What was most memorable my previous Ural experience was the of the machine, especially its transmission. I thinking at the time that the gearboxas in gears randomly in a boxwas only too appropriate, as the while shifting was horrifying, and comparable in my experience with tractors and postwar hand Harleys.

But this new machine is a as shifting is accompanied by a crunch of no severity than that of a BMW. Later I ask Beach the improved shifting. “Ah, so you those new Austrian-made gears?”

two-wheeler aficionados view as an abomination, mid-way between a and a car but with neither the motorcycle’s nor the car’s roof. Sidecars are plagued, so the stories go, by handling At a popular motorcycle hangout I a man explain to his companion that the and only time he drove a outfit he immediately left the and plunged down a ravineand the was on the far side of the road.

I suspect are confused because typical counter-steering is not applicable to a sidecar If you push on the right end of the handlebar you go and not right as you would on a two-wheeler, but I find adapting to the steering If an action causes the machine to go the way, then survival the operator to try something else, and the input seems the most

Riding the $13,595 Ural Camo is engaging, even at speeds. It takes some to become accustomed to watching two on the road surface aheadas you in a carinstead of one as on a solo motorcycle. On one the sidecar wheel whacks a clump on the edge of the road I swerve to miss a pothole the front wheel.

Power is and during a high-speed run with my flattened to the tank I only 110 km/h on the speedometer. The upside of its march is that even the scene of a … police be unable to tag speeding onto charges.

The riding position is standard, so legroom is good and the handlebar is a necessity for leverage. The tractor-style saddle is a disappointment, as mounted on rubber blocks have an unacceptable amount of play, so as the rig travels down the your torso wiggles in a squirm.

At first it’s fun but it annoying, and over one stretch of pavement my jiggling … my head to start wobbling and I go a full body tremor, the version of a tank-slapper. Later I try an single-wheel-drive Tourist Deluxe standard-style dual seat, and the in comfort is significant, though it share the agricultural chic of the Camo’s solo saddle.

Ural Gear Up Outfit

Late in the afternoon I stop for and notice that despite on dirt roads my Desert rig is still spotlessly dust-free. The of prissily chugging along graded roads when I be out bashing a hole in the forest me, and following the directions of Ural and local resident Gerry I leave the road behind and down a two-track trail the woods, alone.

I’m not of a dirt rider but the macho scheme and two driving wheels me to exploit my naivety. Unlike a where you pick your way obstructions, the added width of a rig not allow for subtly, and when I see the disappear beneath water I and remove my riding jacket and and selecting low gear and with the gearbox engaged I confidently forward and sink.

My left has disappeared into mud and the right is spinning madly. The problem is the left track of the trail is deeper than the right, and the rig is heavily to the left with no on the right wheel and a left hopelessly buried. I try reversing, pushing, cursing and kicking, success.

I find a log to use as a pry bar, but twenty feet long and I move it. I come to the conclusion I need ballast for the sidecar to aid and devise, ingeniously, a method of the rig from the sidecar. But as I’m to step onto the sidecar I withdraw my muddy boot. not the heart to step on the virgin of a brand-new borrowed motorcycle a filthy foot, so I take my off and roll my pants up.

Then I start the engine and my left hand pulling in the I lie across the seat and reach with my right hand and the shifter into gear. The now mostly underwater, gives an clunk.

I dry my right hand on my leg then grip the throttle and to launch. It is an uncomfortable positionhands on the in the standard manner and toes to get a grip on the slick vinyl of the cushion. With a good of throttle I dump the clutch and my tail out over the right as far as I dare. The rig wiggles, bucks and deeper into the mud.

I the clutch and reconsider. I decide I’m lacking commitment, my body is too tentative, so I give throttle and let go of the clutch lever. time I take my left arm and across my body and lean far the edge of the sidecar body. now facing backwards in the chest-out pose that figure use to mark the end of a routineand it’s

I look over my shoulder to see I’m going and the Ural out of the hole.

With my boots on I try to turn the rig around, but the trail is two fences and I don’t have the room. Up ahead I see an area will allow me to reverse my but lying between the spot and me are five water crossingsso off the boots again and ahead I go. time as I lean across the and reach down to the shifter I up to select second gear for speed and momentum, and with a out the rear of flying mud and darting I make it to the turnaround point.

Facing back around I six water crossings until I dry trail, and I clear the first but at the sixth the Ural hops out of the two tracks and buries itself in grass. And that’s where it

On my cell I call Gerry and him that I’ve buried his “Good for you,” he says, and minutes later three men and together we haul the muddy Camo to safety. Back at the word has spread, and later night at the awards presentation I am the “off road” prize of a chicken and a double-extra-large t-shirt.

I am to ask if they have the shirt in but I stop before I embarrass because Ural owners that it’s not for the driver. a gift to lure the fattest you can find into the sidecar, no ballast means a long home from the woods, and not make that mistake

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