Honda C50/70/90
Ridden by a grotesquely obese commuter, wearing a Stadium open face, PVC gauntlets and a shapeless anorak. Many bikes appear to be fitted with bulging panniers, however, upon closer inspection these turn out to be overhanging lumps of quivering flabby flesh.
Honda Goldwing
Two wheeled caravans owned by nice couples (usually accountants) who get their kicks by listening to Dire Straits as they trundle ponderously from one Little Chef to the next. Dressed in matching designer boiler suits, beshod in boring brown brogues and linked umbilically by an intercom. If Enid Blyton had scripted The Wild One, Brando would have ridden a Gold Wing slowly.
Kawasaki AR125
Lime green with a power(?) pipe. Owned by Megashark Finance PLC, ridden by a chicken legged, crater faced victim, usually named Gazza, Stevo or Kev, dressed in a vile ski jacket, market stall jeans and wearing a used FM lid, this cretin patrols several chip shops and bus shelters every evening, his bike's farty whining being slightly less offensive than his conversation.
Kawasaki GPz750/900
Ridden, nay straddled, by men who know that performance really counts, their lurid coloured leathers bulge with something unbelievably large - an ego problem. These macho poseurs blast along straights only to cock up (sic) every bend, kink or corner. Too scared of damaging the bodywork on their phallic symbol, they stick to riding in town, grimacing at XR3i drivers through their Simpson tinted visors.
Suzuki GS550/750
With a low paid or no job, ex-wife and two kids to support, and due to being breathalysed 5 years ago, an insurance premium in four figures, the GS rider is not a happy man. Hoping bungee cords and bandages will hold the Alpha 4-1 together past the next MOT, praying the knocking noise is only the clutch and wearing a resigned expression behind his ancient Griffin helmet (watch it, I wear one of those - Ed), he chuffs ever onwards.
Suzuki GT250 X7
Anyone still rattling around on one of these must be desperate for something... probably medical treatment. Definitely a ‘documents in the post, officer,’ kind of guy - Oily Doc Martens, ripped leather jacket, Kangol helmet circa 1977, smokes exotic roll-ups and avoids eye contact.
Yamaha RD350LC
Jack the lad with tight jeans and a loose mouth. Note the scuffed leather jacket and racing boots. More nervous tics than a South African trade minister, hidden by an illegal smoke black visor. An adrenalin addict with a psychotic need to prove a point (magistrates award 3 to 12), he’s best observed at some distance.
BMW R100RT
ACU/IAM instructor with piles, bad breath, bad beard, the dress sense of a mad pensioner loose in Woolworths and has mates in the police force. You’d like to kill him on sight but he’s usually a Freemason and your bank manager - bastard!
Honda CG125
Drones to and from his mind rotting job on his little ‘Onda. A rattling top box, bungee strapped mudguard and yellow PVC leggings are some of the chic accessories of his thrill-a-minute lifestyle. He does all his own maintenance using only a Halfords six-pack of bendy spanners. You'll see him steadily plodding by looking totally pissed off; wouldn’t you be too?
Honda CB250/400 Superdream
Like a January weekend in Llandudno - dull, wet and miserably boring - he enjoys six weekends a year with the TA and regards his Dream as a reliable bit of kit. A fully paid up BMF bore, you can observe him queuing patiently in the Monday to Friday lemming rush hour or occasionally spot him burbling along on a hot Saturday, wearing black Belstaffs, Derriboots and a steaming Balaclava.
Yamaha XJ900
He wanted an FJ but the bank said no way, clad in Fieldsheer leathers and Boeri Driver helmet, he tours a noting the rear tyre at petrol stations. He surrepticiously checks out the passing touring conveys. There's always an immaculate FJ amongst the BMW and Gold Wing elite.
Jawa 350 (with or without sidecar)
Blue faced from the fumes, deafened by induction roar, toothless from strange vibratory pulsations and wearing a flasher’s mac and fisherman’s waders, Wally is a failed train spotter with the personality of a bin liner.
Kawasaki KH250/400
He couldn't afford a classic Kawa triple, so he bought a lime green, piston rattling, plug melting, rubber framed pile of pig's offal instead - not much difference really. He’s on the dole and sports scuffed donkey jacket, ripped overalls and steel toecapped boots. He went mad in 1982.
Alastair Walker
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