Highs, lows and blows

Perhaps the greatest high of over a decade's worth of despatching was my first pay check. It was only sixty quid but to a nineteen year old kid who could barely manage a Honda 250 Superdream through Central London's mad traffic it was the first taste of financial success and a hint of what was possible. That was in 1989 and I'm still at it after a decade, with only the odd long winter break.

The Superdream was acquired a couple of months previously and was one of those rare buys - a genuine mature one-owner! The poor thing didn't know what had hit it! Wasn't all my fault, even to a CG125 trained mind, the Superdream needed revs to shift and just made an odd farting noise if used at low revs without getting anywhere fast. Maximum revs in each and every gear.

I was lucky to start in the summer but it made the CB's motor go close to melt-down, heavy heat wafting up from the engine, even the petrol tank felt like it was boiling! I was soon down to shorts and tee-shirt despite the ever present danger of being hit, or hitting, a cage, taxi or bus.

I was born and bred in Hackney, thought I knew my way around London... the controller had a heavy Devon accent, made even straightforward addresses hard to decipher. Every day, it seemed, I found another obscure nook and cranny in the great Capital. The first A-Z was a shredded mess after two weeks! I bought a heavy-duty one next time around!

It took about three weeks until I really knew where I was going and what I was doing. That included getting to grips with a riding style that suited the dense yet unpredictable Central London traffic. Road rage hadn't been defined then but it took about five seconds to work out that it was deeply embedded into the brain cells of your average driver. Had to make the first move, keep ahead of their machinations...

The CB250N wasn't ideally suited. Not particularly heavy but its mass was distributed in a way that made it feel a bit top heavy and ponderous. It had a Dobberman-like devotion to its initial line of attack, needed a ridiculous amount of muscle to persuade it to change its mind. Screaming at it didn't seem to help. Also, the need to keep it in its meagre powerband required much throttle and gearbox effort - no problem during a half hour commute but for ten hours every day it was a bit ridiculous. In its favour, it had good general comfort and low running costs.

After about two months I was pondering on its replacement when the decision was taken out of my hands. By then I was a bit blase about riding at a rapid pace in London, having survived the first couple of months with only minor damage to the bars and indicators. That from hitting the side of a cage that had slunk out of its lane into a gap that didn't exist! I leapt off the Honda, booted his doors a few times whilst he cowered inside! Didn't hang around to argue the toss about insurance claims, either.

It was the dreaded black cab that did for the Honda... some beefy old guy who saw me motoring towards him in the usual narrow gap. He jerked the cab into a blocking manoeuvre, I did a reflex shuffle away from him, nowhere to go other than into the front of one of those large red buses. The front wheel caught, spun the Honda right around, shrugging me off in the process.

The bike was snagged under one of the bus's wheels, destroyed! The car in front of the bus accelerated off, leaving me a hard bit of tarmac to crash down on to! My head and neck didn't take kindly to this dose of harsh reality. The cops threw me into an ambulance and that was the last I saw of the Honda... I did a runner at the hospital because I hadn't told the insurance company I was working as a DR - the front wheel of the bus was at a funny angle, meaning they would probably have made a large claim if they ever found out my name. Luckily, I'd just done the last of my deliveries!

Staggering into work the next day, someone took pity on me and sold me a CX500 at a bargain price. It hadn't even been used as a DR tool, though the 39000 miles didn't inspire much trust in its longevity. Despite my misgivings, I found the CX much easier to use in London - it actually had some low end and midrange power, didn't need much work on the gearbox. Just as well, as the selectors were in a rotten state, never knew if a gear was actually going to engage.

Plenty of near misses on the CX, its front disc not up to much, but I managed to hurl the bike around the offending object. By the fourth month I was really into the logistics of the perfect multiple pick-up and drop routine and was making serious money. I could've upgraded to a machine with a lesser mileage but the CX gave no indication that it was about to blow up in a big way. They ended up as cult DR bikes, in most ways infinitely rebuildable! You still see them waltzing through the traffic.

My first winter despatching wasn't much fun. Frozen fingers and feet, combined with roads turned to ice-rinks, meant many a slide and dice with the tarmac. It could've been worse, the CX actually enjoyed running along on a minimal amount of throttle and could often be controlled on the back of engine braking rather than touching the tricky brakes. The cagers had no idea of how treacherous were the road conditions, continued to behave with their normal total disregard for anything with less wheels. Lots of DR's go off for long winter holidays in more temperate climes, and I wasn't long to join their ranks!

The CX was sold eventually, a GT550 taking its place. Though held in great regard in the DR fraternity I wasn't overtly impressed with its ride and performance in dense traffic. Needed more effort than the CX but I soon adapted to its ways. Tough old thing, lasted for several years before it began to rot from the inside out. Those British winters did for it. Also had the shortest lived calipers and steering head bearings I'd ever come across. Fuel was a rather poor 45mpg. The latest ones have better engines, with more midrange torque, worth a look.

A completely rebuilt CX650 was the next adventure. The contrast between vee-twin and four cylinder motors all about the concentration of easy to use power in the former. The CX made it around the clock at the cost of several sets of chassis bearings and the eventual demise of its water pump and big-ends. It was exchanged for a VT500, the dealer reckoning that he could rebuild the 650 yet again.

By then despatching had become second nature. You either develop a fast yet safe pace or end up in hospital, or, worse yet, working for a living in a proper job. Only joking, despatching, even if you love motorcycling, is damn hard work. Also dangerous but at least there's a buzz to every day rather the usual boredom of a nine to five office job.

The VT500 proved even better for despatching than the CX. They are narrower and lighter, easier to chuck around things. Tough motors, renown for going around the clock with hardly any maintenance. Do need a light hand on the clutch, though, not the kind of bike to wheelie away from each and every traffic light. Running costs were reasonable and fuel around 50mpg.

Much to everyone's annoyance, Honda stopped making the VT, replaced it with the Revere, a bigger version of the same engine but placed in a high tech chassis. The DR's had the last laugh, when they didn't sell well Honda introduced the budget priced 650 and they became popular on the despatch circuit. Very tough they are, too.

At that point, though, I decided to give long distance despatching a go, bought a good R100RS. The bike was brilliant as a 100mph cruiser but a bit like a battleship in a canal in Central London! The long distance riding only took up about thirty percent of my time, the old Boxer a real pain to bounce through Central London traffic.

Soon moved on to a Kawasaki GPZ500S, back into the City circuit. The 500cc vertical twin was ideal for the rapid cut and thrust in congested traffic. Accelerated well but also had some low rev torque for when I ended up knackered and didn't want to play games on the throttle and gearbox. Trouble was, the build quality was crap and the sixteen inch front wheel awful as soon as it hit a damp, slippery bit of city tarmac.

Came off about three times in the first week. Got so I was petrified of riding on damp roads! A bit of good old London acid rain had rust breaking out on all the fasteners, even coming out from underneath the silver paint on the frame and swinging arm. I got my reflexes working ultra fast, managed to fight back against the suicidal antics of the front wheel but after the worst six months of the year the poor old thing was a rolling wreck. Gummed up front disc, shot chassis bearings, soggy suspension, etc., as well as the naff finish.

Whilst that was being renovated by a devoted wife I'd picked up along the way (ever notice how few babes there are in the DR game?), I picked up an import GB250. A little thumper vaguely based on the old RS250 which had a brief glory as a despatch hack (scrap after 25000 miles of abuse and neglect). A well built bike that was incredibly easy to swing through Central London and had enough of a hint of thumper torque to work okay if maximum revs were neglected. On the other hand, it'll roar away like a good 'un if the throttle's twitched vigorously.

Nothing's that easy in the DR game, some Volvo driving blind idiot decided to make his day by ramming into the back of the Honda at a Kensington junction. Pushed the bike in front of a delivery van. The motor was untouched but the rest of the machine was heavily vandalized and I suffered whiplash, forced to wear a neck brace for weeks. Being self-employed there wasn't any sick pay so the GPZ was hastily brought back into play.

The most recent machine's a newish GT750, a bit of a pig but nice solid engineering that can be forced around the clock a couple of times! I sometimes get very fed up with the job but then I look at the alternatives (despatching a bit of a dead end, doesn't train you to move on anywhere...) and realise I'm quite well off!

H.J.