Well – I went to collect her this morning, and apart from the small matter of £2500 of cosmetic damage it appears that Ruby is going to be fine. Which is a big relief. The new GS is narrower, lighter, and more responsive, but my GS is comfortable and wide, has the bars in just the right place to fall under my hands and has a smooth bit where my shin rubs against one of the hoses. Though it seemed unlikely when she was new, we have come to fit each other. And hopefully will continue to do so for the next 36,000 miles.
Category Archives: Ruby Thursday
This year I am feeling a little retro. I think it is time to tackle the Round Britain Rally on my approaching-classic-status Triumph Adventurer, who will be 11 in May this year – do I only have two years left before it becomes a stroppy teenager, refusing to do what I ask and shrugging me off with a roll of the headlamps?
I am driven to this thought for two reasons. The first is that MOT time is here for the Triumph With No Name and I have a sinking feeling that we haven’t actually turned a wheel since the last one, apart from up into and down out of Mel’s van. Which is a terrible thing to do to a beautiful motorcycle.
The other reason is that Ruby is definitly having to go up for sale. If I get a half-decent price for her, I can pay half my tax bill. Needs must…
It has been a bad week for technology. Thanks to a pressing need to have an espresso and a look at my emails before a 9.30 am meeting on Wednesday, I ran Ruby down to the fumes, secure in the knowledge that the Texaco which kept me supplied in Fruit Gums and Heat magazine when I worked at Lambeth Palace was within pushing distance. I didn't realise that this experience would so traumatise the fuel tank sensor that it would retire from the game and leave me riding with a full tank and a flashing yellow FUEL! Light.
So it's back to setting the trip meter each fill-up and trying to remember that I don't have a reserve (as anyone who's seen my new boots already knows).
Not content with returning me to mental arithmetic on the fuel front, the universe has also withdrawn my satnav privileges. Of late clipping the Zumo into its mount has been a bit tricky and I have to remember to wiggle it to make sure it's locked before departure. On Thursday I forgot, and a helpful bloke pursued the bouncing navigator down Victoria Street for me. Now, to date the Zumo has proved very robust and has shrugged off similar impact, but I've long argued London has the hardest pavements in the world and the fact that only the top half of the screen now works would seem to prove me right.