SilverWing Tales

Part 5 - Watch out for that oily patch...

By: Chuck Gardner




If you have read my Beemer Tales you know that this relationship with my 1981 Honda SilverWing Interstate came only after a protracted love affairs with a 1968 BMW R60/2 and 1969 BMW R50/2.

The Beemer design changed little from the 1930s through the late 1960s, and my late 60s Beemers retained a robust 30s Art Decco look with large fenders and a trailing-arm "Earls" front suspension system. The drum brakes on the old /2 Beemers are notoriously bad, but fortunately the Earls geometry causes the front of the bike to rise up when the cable actuated front drum brake is applied, shifting the weight to the rear and increasing the traction on the rear wheel. Stopping the beast was a smooth and quite controlled, albeit protracted, process: downshift, apply front brake enough to get the front-end to rise, then feather it as you stood on the foot pedal for the rear brake for dear life.

The SilverWing was four-valves-per-cylinder modern and sleek. Stopping power was provided by a drum brake in the back and dual hydraulic disks in front. Those front disks had so much stopping power they could stop the bike on a dime, but the front end dove so much you could read the date on it if you didn't have a gentle touch on the lever.

The Beemers, even the 500cc R50, were well behaved on the highway. You wouldn't win any drag races on one, but it would purr along all day and night at 70 mph at moderate RPMs without a complaint. Compared to the Beemers the SilverWing was a rocket. Those four valves per cylinder -- a design feature retained from the engine's turbo-boosted Gran Prix roots -- made the engine breath well. It had a great power band around 4-5,000 RPM, but due to the bike's gearing the engine was working at about 7,000 RPM at 70 mph, too fast for my liking. So as a result I didn't ride the SilverWing on the highway much. That was fine with me since I got my riding fix with my Monday - Friday commute, and usually spent weekends on my human powered two-wheeler.

One weekend I had a dinner invitation from an acquaintance I had met at a software demo; a Chinese-Vietnamese graphic designer who was an Adobe Illustrator wizard. She was also transparent as hell and I had no delusions; she was lusting after my new version of Illustrator and all the other Mac goodies I had. But, since she had offered a home cooked Vietnamese meal -- cooked by Mom no less -- I didn't mind being used in such a shameless manner.

Her place was way out in the Virginia suburbs, so I took the Washington Beltway to get there. I hadn't been on the highway in about four months so it took a while to get comfortable with the bike at those speeds. The trip over was uneventful -- except for getting lost twice -- and the afternoon went about how I expected, at her computer loading bootleg software, while Mom made cooking noises in the kitchen. Mom would pause to look in once in awhile, carrying the cleaver. I got Mom's message load and clear. Dinner was great. Soup, Spring Rolls, and lots of other good stuff I can't begin to pronounce. I didn't want to ride in the dark so I made my goodbyes shortly after dinner and mounted up.

On the trip home I was more comfortable and enjoyed the ride around Beltway back to Maryland to my exit at University Boulevard. The stretch of University Boulevard near the Beltway is a notorious speed trap. It's near the Montgomery / Prince Georges County borders and I've always suspected the Montgomery cops lay in wait there to collar PG motorists because they can do so without pissing off the folks who vote for the Montgomery County sheriff. That's just a theory mind you; for all I know the MC sheriff isn't even elected. But I do know that over the years I've seen more traffic stops on that stretch of road than any other.

I downshifted as I approached the University Boulevard exit and accelerated out of it. If you head East off the Beltway at University there is a traffic light about 200 yards from the exit ramp, and as I merged with the traffic I noticed it was green. After a look over my shoulder for the Man, I kept my speed up in the hope of making it. About 50 yards from the light it turned yellow. Had I been going the posted 35 stopping would have been no problem, but I was going about 50, and there was nobody in front of me, so I decided to run the yellow. That is until I saw the Montgomery County patrol car sitting at the Intersection.

Visions of $100 tickets flashed across the synapses and I reacted from years of instinct: apply front brake enough to get the front-end to rise and feather it as you stand on the foot pedal for the rear brake. Shit! I wasn't on the Beemer.

Actually I was doing OK, and would have stopped it short and straight if it weren't for oil slick at the light. Fortunately I had slowed considerably and the light hadn't changed, so when the front-end broke loose and I went sliding into the intersection I didn't hit anything or get hit. I had tried to climb up on top of the bike as it went over, but it spun as the foot peg hit and the bike and I parted ways. The patrol car pulled into the intersection with its light flashing as visions of $250 tickets flashed through my brain.

As the officer got out of his car and slipped his night stick into his belt -- never know about those Meth crazed bikers -- I picked myself off the ground and took inventory; sore hands and a skinned knee. The bike was OK, with only a bent brake pedal and a few more scrapes on the fairing trim and luggage. I was picking-up the bike when the cop walked over. After asking if I was OK said, "Why the Hell did you stop?"

Well out of all the possibilities, that was certainly the last thing I expected him to say!

He helped me get the bike out of the intersection and I explained I had just driven around the Beltway. He said he rode a motor too and was aware of problem of with oil at the Intersections. After making sure my bike would start he let me go with a warning to be careful.

Damn I'm lucky.

Haven't eaten Vietnamese food since though; just in case.

To be continued: Stupid bike thieves