Before I begin this tale, I should make it quite clear that the good folks at the MotoGP organization did not invite CMG for an all-expenses-paid junket to this third round of the 2006 MotoGP series. Nor did Editor ‘arris win the lottery and, in a moment of drunken euphoria, decide that Mr. Seck needed to be finally rewarded for the most-excellent work he does at this fine publication.
Welcome to the second and final part of our accounts of the recent Paris-Dacre (Ontario) Rally. If you missed part 1, you can click here to read it, otherwise read on and have a laugh at Team CMG’s expense. We did.
With the heat of the midday sun beating down directly over us, and 7 hours of riding under our belts already, we pause to take stock of the seemingly innocuous puddle in front of us. A group of riders on the other side waved at us to stop just before we crossed it and are now chatting to Team CMG ride leader Bryan Flannigan a few yards ahead of us.
CMGers will probably be aware that we have a new(ish) member of staff in the form of Mr. Lewis, who joined the ranks back in June of this year. Being keen to experience the wilds of Canada first-hand, he quickly agreed to purchase a rather used ’84 KLR 600 dual-sport bike from a good friend of mine (Jim Vernon).
“You know what would be very CMG?” Mr. Seck semi-asked, semi-stated. “That we go for those extra bonus points on the hobby-horse”.
Remember my last confession? I opened the motard article revealing that I had never raced before. Well, here’s another: I have had no motorcycle training either. Learning to ride was like learning about sex — gleaned from the pages of glossy magazines and the watching of others.
The plan was simple enough. Meet Pascal (of SV650 National racing fame) in St. Jacob’s, Ontario, have a few beers whilst getting caught up on the latest gup, and call it an early night so that we would be fresh for an entertaining ride with the KTM Rally Connex crew the next day.
Although I was momentarily experiencing sensory overload, riding a Honda F4 at the Las Vegas Motor Speedway in the middle of January was proving to be a welcome change from the minus forty degree enforced hibernation back home in Montreal.
With a smooth arc through corner one, I focus on the upcoming 90-degree right-hander – on the brakes, shifter loaded. With a quick in/out of the clutch I’m into the appropriate gear and I slide half my ass off the seat – right foot weighting the peg, left knee pushing into the tank. My right arm is pushing on the bar in unison and I nail the corner with a perfect clip of the apex. With eyes already fixed on the next marker, the whole glorious process begins again.
Father (Karim) and son (Marco) Ouji, tell a tale about the search for a motorcyclist’s nirvana. Having had enough of Toronto riding, the East Coast’s Cabot Trail seemed like it could feasibly be a bike lover’s promised land… does it live up to their expectations in the end? Read on…