A potent horsepower cocktail: the baddest sport bikes from around the world,
power-hungry riders-and a dash of rain.
BY SUE ZESIGER
Anyone rusty on panic?"asked Reg Pridmore, cham-
pionmotorcycle racer and
instructor, as a torrential El
Nino rain turned Southern
California's Willow Springs Raceway into a
water ride. The question was apt: The
thought of attempting the dozen or so wa-
terlogged turns astribe some of the world's
most powerful sport bikes did raise my
heart rate-and by the grim looks on the
faces of my 16 guests, I wasn't alone. "The
most important lesson in the wet is that you
have to control your emotions-the pucker
in your throttle hand," continued pridmore,
his liting British accent softening the edge
of his message."Let's take a couple of slow
laps just to see how we feel, shall we?" Swathed in rain gear to cover our leather
and Kelvar riding suits, we trudged out to
our 16 motorcycles, a glbal battalion of tes-
tosterone: two BMW K 1200 RSs, Three
Buell (owned by Harley-Davidson) S1
White Lightnings, three Ducati 916s, three
Honda FVR800FI Interceptors, two Tri-
umph Thunderbird Sports, and three Ya-
maha YZF R1s. Fresh-blood red, panic-
out from the futuristic fairings and body-
molded fuel tanks; rain streaked the badd-ass
exhaust pipes and wasp-waisted seats. We
each silently selected a machine, fired up,
then followed Pridmore single file. Com-
pleting the 1.8-mile course in first gear
wasn't too bad, but I couldn't shake my ugly
vision of dumping my Honda in each corner.
I should explain that I had planned this
two-day speed feast to celebrate the ren-
aissance of the motorcycle, now an official
phenomenon. And I invited this select
crowed of power junkies to help me coax the
ADRENALINE ADDICTS (NOT SO) ANONYMOUS (from
left):Bob Sinclair, retired CEO, Saab; Colin Harley,senior partner,
Davis Polk & Wardell; James Lamimore, Tennessee entreprenear; Elmer
Shannon, managing director, Bear Steams; Bill Magaziner, president,
Magaziner Financial Associates; Carl Conti, retired IBM senior VP; Craig
Jackson, president, Barrett-Jackson Classic Car Auction; Jason Pridmore,
motorcycle racer and instructor;the author; Pierre Deragon, President,
Deragon U.S. Leasing; Reg Pridmore, racer, instructor, and father of
Jason; Stephan Weiss, chairman, Donna Karen Intl; Chris Garville, president
and CEO, Commerce Overseas Corp; Ed Friedrichs, president, Gensler &
Associates; Andrew Serbinski, president, Machineart Industrial Design;
Paolo Tiramani, president, the 500 Group; Thomas A. "Tad" Dillon III,
director, UBS Securities; Burt Richmond, president, Lotus Tours; Rob
Iarimcce, team manager, Team Obsolete (vintage bikes).
sorted executives, all with considerable rid-
ing experience. Who's more addicted to
power, to teetering on the edge, to hard-
charging? They had biases: For instance,
Colin Harley, a head honcho at Davis Polk
& Wardell, owns multiple Harleys (though
he's no relation); UBS director Tad Dilln
owns a BMW; Donna Karan International
Chairman Stephan Weiss races Ducatis.
away when it came time to push the assem-
bled sport cycles to their limits on the track.
No one argued for cruisers or grand touring
machines to be included, just lithe speed
demons-the real bad boys.
We had started our adrenaline retreat
the day before, at the Pasadena Ritz-
Carlton. I found my bikers drooling in the
parking garage over the machinery-half
8 A.M. departure. Can you say eager?
I chose the sleek, deceptively small Du-
cati 916; everyone else jumped on his ma-
chine of choise. We revved up and took off,
our flamboyantly colored leathers fighting
with the machines for attention. We looked
like a parade of action figures from hell,
and more then a few guests at the Ritz
seemed (rightfully) scared as we blasted
into one deafening aria.
Fifteen minutes northwest of Pasadena
lies an infamous stretch of road curvature
called the Angeles Crest Highway, or the
Crest, as biker cognoscenti refer to the na-
tional-park road. It is one of the country's
great motorcycle pilgrimages, although for
a dozen or so bikers a year, it turns into a
death-wish ride. But the statistics don't
scare the hard-core crowd-and even
though the rain seemed to follow us, I no-
ticed most of our group putting knees
down in the corners.
I found I liked the Ducati's endless low-
end torque (a trademark of its V-twin en-
gine) and the crouches position its han-
dlebars coaxed me into, although some of
my fellow riders felt it too extreme for
comfort on a long trip. But, hey-I was
there to practice my lean angle in corners,
not tour the lower 48. And lean we all did:
Pegs scraping the ground, the horizon of
breathtaking peaks turned sideways like a
crooked picture.
As we rocketed up and up the winding,
mountainous road, the cluds thickened
and rain began to fall. We swiched bikes
(after I dropped the Ducati on its side,
thanks to its persnickety spring-loaded
kickstand; I wasn't alone in my faux pas,
but I won't name names), and I tok the
Triumph Thunderbird Sport. Its throaty,
extra-smooth three-cylinder engine (a
cou nterbalancing rod stifles vibration) had
decent power, but the more classic upright
held on, and watched as some fellw out-
laws did wheelies in my rear-view mirror.
One offender later told me, "The Yamaha
has so much power, I kept doing wheelies
without meaning to!" Uh-huh.
First impressions count, and by the end
of the day, I had trouble finding someone
who wanted to ride the Buell back to the
hotel. Its rough-vibrating two-stroke Har-
ley engine is wrapped by a lean body that
provides little in the way of comfort. "It's
a groundbreaking design, but the fit and
finish are terrible," said Mark Jenkinson,
the photographer and an occasional bike
racer. Others found the BMW excessively
smooth and well equipped yet top-heavy.
Only gentlemanly courtesy prevented
fights from breaking out over who got to
ride the Yamaha. "It's a death machine!"
Bear Stearns managing director Elmer
Shannon commented eagerly.
Most sabe (read dull) People believe that
motorcyclists were born with a different
chromosomal makeup that propels them to-
ward rebellious, death-defying behavior. As
a rider since age 17, I can tell you that the
truth lies elsewahere:Anyone who mounts a
two-wheel stallion discovers an adolescent
freedom, an age-be-dammed pleasure that
is unparalleled in the four-wheel realm.
And these days more and more people are
making that discovery. U.S. sales have
climbed stradily over the past six years;
new-unit sales are up 20% firs quarter
1998 over first-quarter 1997, and sport-bike
|
SPEED NEEDS: Southern California's Angeles Crest High- way(top) boasts some of the country's best twisties. Stephan Weiss kneels into a turn (buttom left); Reg Pridmore imparts breaking wisdom track- side(center); the amther astride Miss Congeniality, the Honda Interceptor (right). |
 |
period. That means that a heck of a lt of
guys (yes, unfortunately, most women are
still missing out on the fun) are figuring out
that a motorcycle provides the fastest route
from midlife crisis to thrill satiation.
Of course, you can't get those ya-yas out
in a downpour, as we discovered on day two
during our morning of lw-speed tiptoeing
through Willow Spring's endless puddies.
But the god of adrenaline finally smiled on
us. The sun came out at lounchtime and a
track-drying wind kicked in.
Suddenly my huddled, damp executive
masses reawakened. Within an hour, all
riders were buzzing around the course at
breakneck speeds-some reaching 100
miles per hour on the short straightaway.
Reg Pridmore and I stood trackside for a
moment, watching. "I still see some tense
arms out there," he commented. "If you
grip the bars tight, you'll transfer all that
tension through your body and back into
the handlebars again. You have to do this"
-he flappes his arms chicken-style-"to
remind yourself to stay lose."
I tried Reg's trick, and it worked pretty
well. But the best learning experience
came from his son, Jason, a 750 Super-
sport champion. "You want to take a lap or
two?" he asked me. "Just brace your hands
against the tank so you don't slam into me
in the corners." Without another clue, off
Honda Interceptor.
Berrrr!Brrrrr!Brrrr! Jason's upshifts
were so smooth and so fast I peeked over
his shoulder at the tachometer to make sure
he was realy shifting-while fighting to
keep my head upright against the wind's
force. He blasted up the straightaway at 110
mph, and then-the cool part-leaned the
bike over to an angle I an only call life-
threatening while rounding the first corner.
Despite the horizontalness, the noise, and
the g forces, Jason's dance through the
track's tight corners was the most peaceful
experience I've ever had on a bike. I felt
like a human gyroscope-no matter how
far we leaned, momentum pulled us effort-
lessly through. Just before turn four, Jason
yelled, "Hey, pick some flowers!" At the
turn's apex I spied the daisies; we swooped
as low I reached out and plucked them. Af-
ter a dozen laps, I ceded my seat to the next
lucky rider-and turned faster times my-
self, knowing finally what it should feel like.
By the end of the day men and machined
were spent. One Triumph was badly
scraped in a pit lane incident, a Ducati was
backfiring, and several side directional
lights were broken. No matter. The feed-
back flowed in, and there was something of
a group consensus; The Buell is a rough
beast whose positive attributes emerged on
the track-it smoothed out at higher
bike," said Tennessee entrepreneur James
Lattimore. The BMW is a showcase of
comfort, and many were impressed by how
manageable it was on the track. "It was sur-
prisingly easy to handle-I'd take it home,"
said Bill Magaziner, president of Magaziner
Financial. The Honda was favorite, both
for its power and for its versatility and com-
fort. "You sit so well on a Honda," said
Ed Friedrichs, president of Gensler & As-
sociates. The Triumph charmed some with
its evenhandedness. "It was the smoothest
thing out there," said Craig Jackson, presi-
dent of the Barrett-Jackson Classic Car
Auction. The Ducati caused most riders a
bit of discomfort, but its track performance
was "excellent," said former Saab head Bob
Sinclair. And the Yamaha YZF R1? Some
found its 150 horsepower too much, while
others declared it nirvana. "It was like
cheating-it was that good," said 500
Group President Paolo Tiramani (a.k.a.
wheelie king).
As for me, while I was seduced by the
Yamaha's power, the Ducati's looks, and
the BMW's refinements, I'd have to take
the Honda-it's too good at providing
thrills and comfort in any situation.
Back on the bus, an exausted Colin
Harley summed it up nicely:"I've had the
time of my life."Hey,talk like that will get
you invited back next year.