Post 336: One careful owner ....

It's been four years .... four years since the most faithful bike that I've ever owned finally retired from Despatch Riding ....

"Suzuki Bandit 600, 1997, 7,000 miles, 1 careful owner, starting bid 500"

At the rear of an unremarkable industrial estate somewhere in Middlesex, I lifted a sodden remnant of carpet and there it was. An aging Suzuki Bandit, unloved and uncared for. It was probably once loved, but when it had been reversed over by a rather large truck I guess that relationship had changed. It wore it's shabby black satin paint almost as if it was in mourning, probably for itself. If it was a small puppy then Disney would possibly have made a movie about it. But it wasn't a puppy, it was just a neglected Bandit and nobody seemed to care. Much of it's chrome had long since turned to rust, and its alloy to white fur but with a little coaxing and a lot of damp-start, everything seemed to be working. I doubted eBay's claim of "1 careful owner"  but at just 600 pounds and with the alternative prospect of a cross-country rail journey home, I shook hands with the careful owner and the deal was done.

On the journey home I began to make a mental 'to do list'; brake pads, chain & sprockets, replacement clutch cable, rear tyre, front tyre, heavier fork oil, engine oil, exhaust bandage. It was quite a list, but the longer it grew the less I seemed to care. It was only a Suzuki Bandit, a model that I knew well, but this Bandit seemed quite different from the others that I'd owned. Maybe it was happy to have escaped from beneath the old piece of carpet in Middlesex, thankful to be ridden again and wanting to have some fun. As Middlesex melted in Hertfordshire, and Hertfordshire became Essex, the bikes enthusiasm for the road just kept on rising. For all of its faults, and there were many, that mundane first journey turned into one of the most memorable rides of my life. By the time we'd reached rural Essex, the Bandit had stopped feeling sorry for itself. It had developed a huge smile, lifted its dowdy black skirt and was flashing its Burberry knickers to anyone who cared to look ....       

A good wash, an hour with a wire brush and some polish. A turn of a screwdriver here and the twist of a spanner there. A coat of oil for the drive chain and a few extra pounds of pressure in each of the tyres. The 'to do list' remained undone, but neither of us seemed to care and the next day the Bandit was out on the London despatch circuit earning its keep. Autumn turned to Winter and the rain turned to snow, but the Bandit always started first time and never missed a beat. We carried good and bad news up and down the country often against the elements and always against the clock, but we never missed a deadline ....

As Winter turned to Spring, this old man's fancy turned to the race track. I bought a pair of Metzeler Z6's and a set of race numbers. We rode up to Snetterton and the folks in the paddock with their shiny white vans and tyre warmers quietly laughed. To be honest, we didn't really care what anybody thought of us and as morning turned to afternoon, most of those folks had stopped laughing. As we rode home at the end of that day, I swear I could hear the old Bandit giggling to itself. If it was a horse then it would have been called 'Farlap', but it was just a lowly despatch bike, so it didn't have a name, just a thankless and grueling job ...

As 75,000 miles clicked past, I received a telephone call from Roger Tuson, editor of The Riders Digest magazine. "Did I know what Moto Challenge GB was and if I had a suitable bike, would I like to enter?" I of course lied on both counts and at the beginning of July 2004 we rode out to the Santa Pod Raceway. According to the internet, Moto Challenge GB was an annual competition covering drag racing, hill climbing, short circuit racing and three thousand miles of point to point road navigation across England, Scotland and Wales. The event was in two parts, South and North, and we were entered in both. As the assortment of R1's, Ninja's, Fireblades, Aprillia's and an MV Agusta started unloading their ample kit in the paddock at Santa Pod, my initial enthusiasm had turned to mild despair. It seemed that while I was there for the giggle, some of the other 85 competitors were really taking things quite seriously. As the conversations turned to tyre choice and suspension settings, I just kept my visor firmly down, my opinions to myself and the Bandit tucked away in the shadows. When it came to tyres I didn't have any choice and as for suspension settings, Bandits just don't have any. I decided that I'd ride with the 'just for fun' guys and leave the cock fencing to the dudes wearing their

matching race leathers. However, the Bandit had slightly different intentions ..... 

After ten grueling but fun filled days of competition, we rode down the A1 from Kelso towards Essex. The A1 has got to be one of the worlds most boring roads but on that day my arse didn't ache and my smile never stopped. In the tank-bag was a silver trophy ... 'Moto Challenge South - 3rd Place' .... But if I was smiling then the Bandit was positively wetting it's knickers, because in the top-box was an even bigger silver trophy ... 'Moto Challenge North - Winner'       

As the mileage clicked ever upwards the Bandit just kept on delivering. It had never stopped working, never broken down and never once thrown me from its back. 175,000 miles came and went, 200,000 followed and as another Winter arrived I began planning for its well earned retirement.

It was a frosty morning, clear blue sky and a sun that barely broke above the horizon. We were ahead of schedule and taking it easy. Running along with the early morning traffic and enjoying the air. The roundabout ahead was clear, indicate left and tip in. Accelerate gently to the 40 mph speed limit on Chelmsford's White Hart Lane and ... CRUNCH

Contrary to early witness screams, I wasn't dead. I didn't really understand what had happened, but the pain in my bollocks told me that I was still very much alive. It took the emergency services a few good minutes to prise from the bike but aside from the very personal swelling, I was perfectly ok. Unfortunately the Bandit wasn't quite so lucky. I'd been travelling at the legal speed limit and the silver Ford Focus had been blinded by the early morning sun. Instead of slowing down, he'd just hoped that the road ahead would be clear and accelerated along behind me. He'd mounted my rear end and pushed me for at least sixty feet before finally coming to a halt. The Bandits back was borken, its last package delivered.

The above photograph was my last sight of the bike. After measuring the accident site and taking countless witness statements, it was hauled away by the police and was last spotted at the rear of a Manchester scrap yard. Several months after the accident the insurance assessor informed me that with 48,000 miles showing on the clock he could only offer me a book price of around 1,200 pounds. That was double what I'd paid for the Bandit almost a quarter of a million miles earlier. Of course, the driver of the Ford Focus, who admitted that he'd been speeding, was never charged .. and the next morning I was despatching again on a very forgettable Honda CBF600 N ....   

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