OLD BLASTARD: Riding to the sunset

NELSON COUNTY -- There's nothing quite like a new bike unless, of course, it's a new bike on the Blue Ridge Parkway.

Better yet, a new bike on the Blue Ridge Parkway with a whipper-snapper of a cohort riding lead on her Duc.

Better yet, a new bike on the Blue Ridge Parkway with a whipper-snapper cohort riding lead on her Ducati on the way to a sunset at Raven's Roost scenic overlook.

It's been a while since this Old Blastard had a bike under  him that was bigger than 500cc and one lung. And, while I'm most partial to the double-lung types, when I got a chance to pick up a 1998 Kawasaki Concours all tarted up like God's own Great White about to swallow a bit of woman -- and got it at a Godfather price that I couldn't refuse -- I bit.

I'm a practical rider. I've put 15,000 mostly city miles on my 03 Buell Blast, getting an average of 60 mpg cruising up and down U.S. 29 and the urban ring on short trips, tiny hops and puddle jumps. On occasion, usually to teach a Rider's Edge course at Shenandoah Harley Davidson from which the Blast came, we'd put some highway miles on the Thumper, something it enjoyed immensely.

Unfortunately, some close friends of mine, Jim and the Twins, didn't fare so well on those 50-mile one-way blasts as the vibration from the little bike and the single cylinder pretty much numbed the hands and the happy parts within 30 minutes.

Riding a slow bike fast is always more fun than riding a fast bike slow, but I clearly needed something that could take the distances I have great plans for riding in the near future.

I knew what I wanted. About 100 horsies to pull my sleigh with a good 70 foot pounds of torque to give grunt throughout the range of gears. Six gears would be best to satisfy a shifting fool and shaft drive to take care of the fact that I am a tool retard. Add good gas capacity and the ability to work both urban and freeway and backroad duty and it spelled on thing: Sport tourer.

Oh, did I mention cheap?

I thought of the Honda NT700V but 11 K is out of my range. The Suzuki Bandit 1250s, now the full-fairing GSX-1250 FABS, is also good despite the chain drive, but 8 K to 12 K is also out of the range.

Did I mention baggage? I want built on, removable baggage.

I want it all. I want it now.

The only bike that fit my criteria was the old Connie, made by Kawa from 1986 to 2006. But I didn't expect to find one. Then I did. And the fact that a guy from Elizabeth, Colorado had it tarted up all a-shark didn't do anything but help.

I'm a sucker for the weird.

I bought it.

Then, as the day ended and the temps cooled down just slightly the phone rang. It was the Duc one wanting to play a little crack-the-whip in the mountains. That's a good chance to get used to Sharkey, a.k.a. Jaws, a.k.a. Great White on roads I know well enough to not get killed. Remember, the majority of fatals on the Blue Ridge Parkway a few years back were people riding borrowed bikes, bikes of which they were unfamiliar on roads they didn't know.

So we met at the MudHouse in Crozet where the folks were kind enough to not kick us out until we were ready to go, although we pushed them a bit past their closing time. With the sun in our eyes, we headed down Jarman's Gap Road to U.S. 250 to the parkway, the Duc leading the way and the Shark following.

The ride, of course, was gorgeous. The sun blinded the westbound travelers -- us, too -- until we hit the Parkway and from there the goal was to keep the Duc in site. The woman, you see, can ride.

Using about 10 percent of Jaws' potential, I slowly acclimated to how the bike shifted, how it pulled from low rpms in high gears, how it tipped into a corner, how it braked from too fast to just right prior to entering a turn. The Concours can handle. Being used to using 90 to 95 percent of your bike's capacity and then getting on a bike that quadruples that capacity can be a bit unnerving, but the Shark pulled through.

At the roost, we met a few people who had already lined up. They awaited the sunset in beach chairs with snacks and cameras and binoculars.

Even the park rangers dropped by.

Odd.

We parked the critters and talked about two wheels and life's own tic-tac-toe game filled with ex's and ohs!. Some folks were enthralled by the Shark and asked if they could take pictures next to it.

And then the sun went down. Gorgeous reds, purples and mountains of majesty. I yanked out my phone and took some quick pix (why is it I never have a real camera when I want one?). They do no justice to the splendor. I even snuck in a pic of Duc Girl.

Ever notice that all women look hot in motorcycle gear and all bikes make butts look fast? It's a beautiful thing.

The sun setting, the race was on to get home before dark. With projector fog lamps on for safety and the bright light watching for deer, the Great White and I made it home to the dog, rolling past Wintergreen, Devil's Backbone brewery and Blue Mountain brewery into the wilds of Albemarle County and the traffic on U.S. 250.

God, how good it felt.