After my XL125 was stolen and ruined and was grieved over, she went to the big scrap yard in the sky. Then in October 1995 I passed my test and bought a bike, a big, beautiful black Yamaha XJ550. Four cylinders, air-cooled, in the classic mould. Not big by modern motorcycle standards, but for me it was a huge step up the motorcycle league.
Once purchased, with the promise from the dealer that he'd balance the carbs and sort out the rattly clutch, I had to sort out my insurance and let hubby ride the bike home, as I'd never been on anything as big before and after doing the deal I'd been bricking myself wondering if I'd done the right thing.
I could only just get her off the centrestand and I couldn't get her back on, only the sidestand. Like many fours of this era there was an art to getting the bike up on the stand that required a certain faith in the machine's basic stability. It all felt very strange after the featherweight Honda.
The first Saturday morning I felt sick, had I done the right thing? Too late, now. My gran had the kids for the day so I could at least get used to the bike without them laughing at me if I got things wrong. We went to the hospital car park where I work so I could get used to the weight of her 420lbs of solid metal. She isn’t no plastic princess, thank god! If I got dented a little and needed patching up I'd take a taxi to another hospital as I wouldn't want people I work with to see me like that!
We had only been there a few minutes when the local plod decided to come to have a look. So I stopped, let hubby take over. Someone had probably phoned them to say there’s a mad woman on a bike whizzing up and down, doing U-turns or something. If so, they showed an amazing response time for once! It was only when I stopped that I looked down and realised that the tax disc had run out on her. Shit, that’s all I need, a severe ticking off and all that crap.
The plod went over to a car. Eureka, a stolen car, he wasn't after me. I was quite pleased about that as this was October and the tax disc said May. We went home, left her to sort out the tax. Later, we decided to try again. I was full of butterflies. This time we went to the embankment, where the river Trent glistened, warning me not to go too fast as if I fell off it was very deep! I didn’t want to get the beautiful Yamaha wet so soon.
I was soon getting on OK, doing U-turns, stops and generally getting the feel of the Yamaha. I was still only doing 20mph when the plod came again, this time to watch. It’s amazing they have the spare time on their hands! We decided it was too busy with the police and went over to Holme Pierrpont - another watery venue. This time the road was long and straight. The Yamaha, though heavy, felt well balanced and I began to overcome the fear that it was going to flip over without any warning. I could now do a U-turn instead of a 57 point turn.
Hubby told me to be careful as big lorries use the road but to open her up a bit. OK. I wanted to see if I could go faster than 20mph. I put her in first gear up to twenty, then second up to 30mph, then third and felt very brave. I thought I’d whack her open. Holy shit! I slid back down the seat. I now knew why the bars were so big. I hung on for dear life, it felt like my arms were going to come out of their sockets. She came alive, I'd never felt so much power - it was brilliant. I still never got past fourth gear as hubby went past in a blur in the car, waving for me to stop pronto.
By then I knew what real power felt like and wanted more. He rode back home and said until I got a bit more experience I wasn’t going out on my own. A couple of weeks later I was ready to go out solo, having spent all the time I could getting used to the bike. I now knew that she handled well and my own capabilities with her.
The first time I went out on my own with her was quite memorable, The police station is only just up the road from my house and there is a set of traffic lights there. I pulled up at the lights feeling quite brave, the lights changed and I forgot that you didn’t need to open her up much to pull away, so I kicked her into first and whacked the throttle open.
Holy shit! The front wheel came up about two inches and | nearly shat myself. I backed off, she came down and raced off. Never will I do this again. I plodded off up the road for half a mile, with the blood rushing through my ears and my heart. I never did mention the wheelie to hubby, though he'll find out now!
Things went smoothly from then on. I never went mad, just used her as runabout. Hubby got to like her, as well, and we'd go out on her while the kids were at school for about two hours. He’s far more daring than me, will happily whack her open to do 80 or 90mph. He did tell me never to go over 7000 revs, as it was a bit lively then...
You know how it is, someone tells you not to do something and, well, you just have to, don’t you? Well, anyone would, wouldn't they? There is a nice straight bit of road about a mile away once you've got round the island. It started out as a plod when the devil took over. Cail it PMT, if you like. Doing about 40mph in third, I thought should I or shouldn't 1? I opened up to 5000 revs, put her into fourth at 60mph... and the most beautiful thing happened, I swear to God. She was suddenly alive and it was good. Felt great at 7000rpm, I was still holding back not daring to look at the speedo what with a 60mph speed limit.
She surprised and exhilarated me at the same time. I christened her Beastie! She comes alive at seven grand, needs to be held back. 110mph on the clock! The greatest buzz I've ever had, a big grin filled my face. The bars were buzzing and trees whizzed past. I've never been a speed merchant but something kind of magical happens now and again - this was one of those times.
I started to slow down as I didn't want to lose the licence I’d only had for a few months. Why hadn't I passed my test before? I’m not a spotty faced kid of seventeen doing it to impress his mates I’m thirty-something. Bikes like the Yamaha are very addictive!
It’s an 1984 model with an oil cooler, sticky Pirelli tyres, 55 to 60mpg - £3 of petrol and I’ve got a grin on my face all day. I must look OK on it, especially in leather boots with stiletto heels, as I left a cop gawping once and he later turned up loitering outside the house, hopeful for another look I had to duck around the back! Women get let off a lot more than men. Why not? It’s better to make a policeman’s day than get a speed ticket.
The only thing that bugs me is that Beastie can't live at my house as the shit-heads have twice tried to break into the shed. Luckily, each time she was elsewhere. The last time they actually broke open the whole back of the shed! I want a concrete garage, I swear I'll electrify it just to give them a buzz. I've made friends with a Hell’s Angel and taken up weight training - when I see the little wretch who took the XL125 I'll give him such a kick in the balls he’d astound medical science by having two sets of tonsils.
The bike and I have done 3000 miles, the house looks like a tip and I don't give a damn; I’m happy.
Lynn Butler