The wrap up of the Team CMG diaries and the CMG Online awards for various acts of accomplishment, bravery, stupidity and crashing!
Team CMG are determined to finish the 3rd bi-annual Paris 2 Dacre dual sport rally. Part one of two of how the whole event unfolded.
It’s the type of thing that any self respecting mobster would be proud of. You act as judge and jury, you’re free to abuse the rules and you can send your victim off a few grand lighter without recourse.
Time for an update of the differences between US and Canadian process? We think so.
It took me a while to get accustomed to the dimly lit interior of the Deeley Harley-Davidson hospitality room. The usual trappings of a publicity machine were neatly laid out on the various tables a shiny coffee urn, clear pitchers of water and juice, press kits, and complimentary pads of paper for the absent minded journalists who forgot to bring their own.
Years pass. Things change. You become a father. You used to ride a motorcycle. You want to do it again and so you do. But now things are different. There’s the ever present “what if?”
Firstly, we need to get one thing straight – we are not condoning reckless riding, inappropriate speeding, dangerous riding, stunts or any other manifestation of potentially unsafe road behaviour – it’s not big and most certainly not clever.
My right hand instinctively tugs on the brake lever producing a pronounced plunge in the front-end of the Caponord. Speed is shed at a rapid rate. Too late, the cherries are lit and spinning and seconds later I’m pulled over on the shoulder of Hwy 12, with one of New York State’s finest pulling up behind me.
‘Arris had put together a team for last year’s inaugural P-D and had run the course on a KTM 640 Adventure. Even though this bike could be considered one of the best tools for the job, he came away from the event feeling like he’d been tossed into a rather large and dirty tumble dryer for sixteen hours. The idea of taking a near-500 lb vintage BMW on this ride was, in his books, a recipe for disaster.
The thing was kicking. Kicking as in riding perfectly. I’d bonded fully with BMW’s HP2 as we skipped over the rocks and sandy ruts that dominate the trails around Sudbury in near-north Ontario.