The old 250 Superdream slewed all over the road. I wasn't expecting it. The back wheel waggled away for ten yards until I pulled in the clutch lever. The cable was so corroded that the force needed was up there with Norton Commandos and the like. Funny, I thought, the back wheel's still frozen up. Another ten yards before we fell over in the gutter.
The rodent in the car behind went into a frenzy on his horn. As he drew level he leant across his passenger seat. Waving a fist, red faced in incoherent rage. Cruuunch, the other side of his car tearing into the side of another cage. He tried to crawl out of the passenger door, but the Honda was in the way. The driver's door was mashed into the other car. He was far gone on rage, right in heart attack country.
Had not my rolling chassis been in good shape I'd have done a runner. I'd used the best bits out of about half a dozen Superdreams, ending up with a twin disc front end, stiffened suspension and a reasonable (for a despatch bike) black finish. There was too much time and energy invested to abandon the machine. There was also the pile of parcels I was supposed to deliver.
Rebuilt Superdream engines are good for about 10,000 miles. That's with decent used bits. My motor had done a mere 600 miles. I waited around for the cops to turn up before dragging the 'Dream up on to the pavement. The crazed cager was bobbing up and down but the police weren't too amused at the screaming session. Luckily, I had a pocketful of artfully forged documents and was allowed to push the Honda home after a mere 30 minutes.
When I phoned up the controller he wasn't too happy. I'd promised to be back on the road within an hour. There was no way I was going to push 400lbs of metal five miles. A taxi took me home. The driver wasn't overjoyed at having my oily second engine bouncing around in his cab on the return journey. I'd actually rebuilt two engines in a fit of rare enthusiasm.
The one was I was carting across London had the balancers removed. The chain and tensioner were more trouble than they were worth. Even when new and properly adjusted there was still a lot of vibration. Word amongst long term owners was that leaving it out would do no damage. I'd modified the bike so that there was just one electrical connector between engine and frame. The airfilters were long since junked. I'd got engine swaps down to less than 15 minutes. Even on a crowded bit of pavement.
Judging by some of the looks I received, riding around London with a spare engine strapped on the top box wasn't the done thing. It made the handling a bit of handful. Leaning over more than a few degrees resulted in large wobbles and the feeling that it was going to fall right over.
After an hour or so of frantic hustling I'd only one parcel left. After an impromptu race with a couple of horses through Hyde Park, I was all set for a second gear rev out down to Notting Hill. Some inconsiderate wretch had left a large hole in the road. The front wheel twitches almost made me throw up.
The next thing I heard was a crunching, tearing noise. Just a momentary glimpse in the mirrors of half a top box and an engine flying through the air. I glanced behind in time to see a shiny front end of a Jag being seriously reworked by the Superdream's engine. After a few wild manoeuvres, I had done a disappearing act. I'd had enough of cagers and despatching for the day. After my last delivery, I tore off the remnants of the top box.
I was distracted for an hour by one of the hookers, a big black mama. Tearing home, back the way I came, I spied my engine abandoned on the pavement. It featured some large dents but seemed intact. I strapped it down on the carrier and made it home without further incident. I hammered the motor apart to find a wrecked transmission. Something to do with the teeth tearing off one of the cogs. Quite a rare demise on Superdreams. The transmission had probably done over 100,000 miles.
All the stories about dumping the balancer were true. The motor was a lot quieter and the vibes no worse, if at different revs. The tensioner used to be the most tiresome maintenance chore It was almost inaccessible and needed work every 500 miles. The valves sort of wore into permanent settings in between rebuilds. The carbs needed attention every 2000 miles and the rest was automatic or electronic. Oil changes I did every 500 miles but with cheap 20/50. More in deference to having a working gearbox than any fears over engine longevity.
Using ancient Superdreams for despatching is a bit hard going at the best of times. They don't have a very good reputation for longevity amongst bosses, especially when they've gone around the clock a few times. They are not even very frugal, with 45 to 50mpg, although with my stock of spares consumables, and even engine rebuilds, don't cost very much. Anyone who crashes or blows up their Superdream ends up giving me a bell and the mess of a motorcycle for next to nothing. A good 80% of the really thrashed ones are only useful for throwing at next door's dog. I've even seen crankcases with cracks in them.
They are quite handy for the chaos of the capital, though. Just about the right mass to be chucked around but not so light that they are flicked right off the road by the potholes. With a large, home-made handlebar fairing it's enough presence to dissuade car drivers from trying to run me off the road. A fairing's essential for despatching in the winter, to fight off the cold and rain.
Even so, I end up looking like the Michelin man with about ten layers of clothing. Topped off by a bright orange waterproofs. It's useful when I come off, I just bounce along the road like a blood-shot condom. The only time it's a hassle is when I have to bump-start the bike. Then I have to ride around with a couple of gallons of sweat swilling around inside the waterproofs. Also, carting around twice my natural weight when delivery parcels up three or four flights of stairs is not much fun.
Full time despatching for a couple of years has led to some physical maladies. My hearing's finally faded away, a result of the inevitably rotted exhaust and also the roar of the traffic. My vision is slightly blurred, from the vibes and all the debris ridden through when it's too damp or foggy to use the visor. Judging by the laughter and smirks I must be going a bit hump-backed. Or it may just be the John Wayne stagger from too many hours in the too hard seat. Oh, and at the tender age of 28 I'm almost completely bald. That might be the shit food I force-feed myself at irregular intervals or it might just be wearing a helmet all day long. A savagely large number of DR's are fat, bald and babbling before they reach thirty.
There are enough highs to overcome the downs. Doing a journey in fives minutes that you just know will take some poor cager over an hour because of the traffic congestion. Riding like a lunatic because the bike is worth sod all and I've enough parts to repair it for next to nothing. Very occasionally leaving the controller gobsmacked when I do a huge number of deliveries in a record time. That's when everything comes together and I get the deliveries and collections perfectly synchronized. There are other days when I'm running back and forth across town like a starved rat and getting nowhere very fast.
The Superdream makes sure I don't nod off, there's always some minor hassle to be seen to. It seems to go through phases. One week the engine will run poorly. The next the chain will try to fall off. Then the electrics will go haywire, then it will be the motor's turn again. Still, I reckon I get away with murder, riding an ancient, mostly illegal old hack, and making a pretty penny into the bargain.
A.H.T.