The Good: Sports-car performance, sedan convenience, inspires Kobe Bryant-levels of confidence.
The Bad: Not as fuel-efficient as the EPA would have you think, transmission a bit rebellious.
The Verdict: A near-perfect harmony of speed, style and substance.
The best automobiles are more than transportation appliances. Sure, they move you from place to place just as well as any car, truck, golf cart or Segway – but they do so much more. They inspire passion. They inspire lust. And, like Hugh Grant in any number of estrogen-tastic romantic comedies, despite their flaws, you ultimately come to love them wholeheartedly.
The Audi S4 is one of those cars.
On the surface, the S4 doesn’t seem very different from the A4 on which it’s based. While the S4 receives unique bumpers, a mildly different grille and quad tailpipes in lieu of the A4’s twin pipes, only the hardest core of enthusiasts are likely to notice. It’s a stealthy approach to speed – in stark contrast to the in-your-face aggression of potential competitors like the BMW M3 or the Mercedes-Benz C63 AMG.
(Of course, Audi insists the S4 doesn’t compete with those macho models, instead preferring to stack its stealth sports sedan against the “regular” six-cylinder entry-level luxury sedans – specifically, the BMW 335i, which the S4 is locked onto like a Tomahawk cruise missile.)
The trend of stylish subtlety continues inside, where the biggest variation from the A4 are a pair of sport bucket seats up front – though a handful of other differentiators, such as S4-branded gauges and steering wheel, pop up around the interior. But lack of style was never really a problem with the A4 (at least from my point of view), and the S4’s differences, though minor, add a bit of panache to the car’s looks.
Pop the hood, though, and the changes become a lot more apparent. Instead of the turbocharged 2.0-liter inline four-cylinder in the A4, the S4 runs wild with a 333-horsepower supercharged 3.0 liter V6 capable of propelling the S4 from 0 to 60 in 4.9 seconds, according to both Audi and Car and Driver.
But those numbers seem so cold and abstract compared to those 333 horses. This car is fast. Whee! Fast. The supercharger has effectively no lag (a major advantage blowers have over turbochargers) – punch the throttle, and you’re thrown back into your seat and on your way to that inevitable court date. (“Reckless driving,” my ass…)
While the S4 is based off a front-drive platform (indeed, you can buy a FWD A4 if you really want, but good luck finding one), it thankfully comes with standard all-wheel-drive, which harnesses those gallivanting ponies and sticks them to the ground with the expected Germanic efficiency. Between it and the electronic stability control, even the slipperiest Vermont roads were easily negotiable.
That said, though, click off the ESP, and the S4 will hang its tail out in curves all day long if you want it too (especially on those aforementioned icy dirt roads). I spend the better part of ten minutes baking donuts in the fresh snow of an Asian fusion restaurant parking lot – including several continuous loops around a blue spruce in the middle of the lot. (And I don’t regret it one bit, Ma.)
While a six-speed manual transmission comes standard, my tester put the power down through a seven-speed dual clutch transmission. In the past, I’ve been quite happy with this type of transmission (both in the Audi TT-S and the Mitsubishi Lancer Ralliart), and the S4 was no exception – in automatic mode, shifts are as smooth as a slushbox, while in manual mode, it cracks off shifts with Barry Allen speed.
Adding a seventh, higher gear to the mix adds some virtue to the car’s hefty serving of vice, allowing the S4 to reach an EPA-claimed 28 mpg on the highway and 18 mpg in town. Of course, the EPA test cycle was designed by an engineer who drives like Ralph Nader in a snowstorm, so real-world mileage is a bit lower; I averaged 22.45 miles per gallon over a week of mostly highway driving.
The dual clutch ‘box isn’t perfect, however. Even in manual mode, flooring the throttle in high gear causes the car to drop down several cogs to put you in the heart of the powerband again. In automatic mode, this certainly makes sense, but presumably any driver who’s enabled manual mode wants to make his or her own decisions – and if he/she wants to, say, test top-gear acceleration along the New Jersey Turnpike without being unexpectedly flung towards the Pennsylvania state line, that’s his or her perogative.
Less startling but more annoying, the aluminum paddles on the back of the steering wheel are on the small side – small enough to be all but invisible behind the spokes at 9 and 3 o’clock. I presume this was an intentional move to keep them out of the way for drivers who don’t want to be bothered with shifting for themselves – but it seems kind of a burn to the enthusiasts who, presumably, make up a hefty percentage of the S4’s clientele.
Quibbles aside, the S4’s powertrain makes for one hell of a fun ride; luckily, when the road turns curvy, the suspension and chassis proves more than capable of cashing the checks the supercharged V6 loves to write all over the pavement. As with true sports cars, the S4’s limits will almost always lie beyond those of your nerves (at least on public roads).
Push the car into turns, and it urges you on, encouraging and emboldening you. While the steering can be heavy at low speeds, it lightens up as the car builds velocity, never feeling floaty or disconnected. Few cars instill as much confidence in their drivers as the S4 does.
On a side note, this was the first Audi I’ve tested lacking the Audi Drive Select system, which allows the driver to adjust the suspension, steering and drivetrain’s responsiveness. To what degree the ADS improves non-“S” models, I’m still unsure, but given my experience with the S4, I’d be hard-pressed to imagine how the system could improve on the car’s dynamics – at least, not enough to warrant its $3,950 price.
Of course, sport sedans promise a measure of convenience along with performance – after all, as Mitt Romney learned, society tends to frown on strapping your dog to the roof of your car; there will be times you need that extra room. Not surprisingly, the S4 offers all the convenience of the A4 it’s based on – it just goes faster. Granted, it’s still on the smaller end of the sedan spectrum; it’s possible to fit three adults and a week’s worth of luggage into the car, but let’s just say my backseat-dwelling father would probably not enjoy repeating that drive from Boston to New York City anytime soon. (Especially since he had to share the rear bench with several large bags.)
The Bottom Line:
For anyone seeking maximum driving excitement for around $50,000 without sacrificing utility, the S4 is as good as it gets. It’ll take winding back roads like a sports car at noon and let you drive octogenarian ladies to and from dinner at night. The S4 packs 95 percent of the fun of a sports car with 100 percent of the comfort and handiness of a four-door luxury sedan.
As an automotive journalist, people often ask, “If you could have one car, regardless of price, what would it be?” Usually, I’ll respond with my supercar crush du jour, then offer a quippy remark about the fun factor overwhelming the little inconveniences – crappy gas mileage, hefty insurance rates, lack of room, tricky behavior in town, and so forth.
This is Happi. I met Happi working at his family’s store, Discount Liquors, on Freeport Blvd. I bought a Red Stripe and they were watching a Dolph Lundgren movie, in Spanish, on TV. Happi was born in Beverly Hills, but has lived in Sac for most of his life. His parents are from the Punjab area of India. Happi is 22.
Favorite Accomplishments: Helping my family out in rough times.
Regrets: Being at the wrong place at the wrong time.
What are your passions/obsessions? Driving my car, playing sports (especially basketball), and partying.
Why do you like driving your car so much? It’s a BMW convertible!
Sound Off! Live life how you want to live, not the way others want you to.
Are European cars taking over Japan? Are Japanese trading in their Nissans and Toyotas for Porsches and BMWs?
We’ve all heard and seen Rauh-Welt and their supreme Porsches. And if you’re BMW ultimate driver looking for that ultimate tuning one-stop shop, there’s a place next to AC Schnitzer Japan called Studie AG. If I were to visit shops in Japan other than Spoon Type One Garage, it would be Studie AG.Their lounge reminds me of Urban Outfitters slash Ikea.
So their is more DLC coming for Forza 3 tomorrow ( or today if your reading it on or after the 12th). I got to say, if is a great car line up. In the pack, which is 400MS points, are:
Aston Martin One 77
Audi R8 LMS
Audi RS 6
BMW Motorsport M6 Coupe
Chevrolet Corvette Grand Sport
Ford Shelby Mustang GT500
Saleen S5S Raptor
Pagani Zonda R
Porsche Boxster S
And my favourite car out the bunch, the Lotus 2-Eleven (Picture Below)
I really want to try something new out for this car pack, so I’m going to try and attempt to do a Top Gear Road Test on the Lotus, using just the Forza 3 editing, it will be tough, but using Clarkson old saying, ‘How Hard Can It Be?’
If you didn’t know, I took a trip to the Philippines for a month and put the blogs on hiatus – sorry to all the faithfuls! But now that I’m back, definitely expect some automotive sickness to fill the void we’ve managed to build up in my absence.
Anyway, I found it appropriate to feature a car from the motherland since I’m recently returned – an E92 M3.
Now I know what you’re thinking. The fitment is way off, the car is too high and it appears to be modded way too conservatively. And honestly, if the car was in the US, I’m not too sure I’d give it much notice. So why even bother featuring it then? Well first of all, cars like this are still very few and far between in the Philippines. Although there are apparently efforts to rid the PI of all automotive import taxes (for completely assembled cars), there is still a 100% tax today…making this M3 conservatively cost over $120,000. Yikes.
Second of all, the Philippines is a labyrinth of roads full of dips, bumps, crests and slopes. So much in fact that it would mean certain death to the Hellaflush metal sleds we worship stateside…no matter how crafty of a driver you are. So despite any desire to mod your car to perfection, there is an inevitable nod to practicality just so you can take it out further than your own driveway. And yet despite this acknowledgement, this M3 is dressed up with a Vorsteiner front lip, some H&R sport springs and 19″ BBS LMs. That’s some guts right there.
Thirdly, this car is STACKED with baller mods. Although most people wouldn’t really know it at first glance, the handful of people that know can’t help but pay homage to the owner’s investment here. For just the Amuse Titanium exhaust and carbon fiber trunk, you’re looking at a combined price of $18,000. Factor in the 19″ BBS LMs and the BMW Performance seats, and you’ll up the figure to $28,000 before you can blink. And despite this, he’s got no intention of stopping there. His future plans include:
- AP Racing BBK (Front kit already here, waiting for Rear set)
- Powerhouse Amuse Ericsson Front, Rear Bumpers and Side Skirts [click here for pricing]
- Reflash (still not sure on what tuner to get it from)
- RDsport Stroker (my dream mod, but it might be hard since I dont live in the US)
So even though it might not be as aggressive as the US crowd would prefer, the car deserves a major applaud from me considering where it is and how much has gone into it…both in thought and money. With cars like this around, 2010 is going to be a good year for The Car Park.
The Mod List:
Matte Black Kidney Grills
Matte Black Side Vents
CF Side Mirror Covers
BMW Performance Seats
BMW Performance Pedals
Active Autowerke SSK with AA Shift Knob
Active Autowerke Pulley Set
Gruppe-M Intake
Powerhouse Amuse Ericsson Full Ti Exhaust (TITAN)
Powerhouse Amuse Trunk
Vorsteiner Front Lip
BBS LM 19″
For years the automotive industry has been spending tens of thousands of dollars in formulatic advertising methods such as radio, tv, and newspaper. Digital Signage today reports that the industry has found a new face in with digital and the big players are jumping in the pool. Volkswagen, Audi, Jiffy Lube, Chyrsler, and BMW to name a few. Within the last year the industry shifted their advertising methods and embraced digital for a more interactive, visual experience to attract customers. Although radio is still an attractive medium for local auto dealers, but in a metropolitan area like Los Angeles you are broadcasting to a wide area but your message may not reach the locale surrounding the dealership or store. This is what attracts dealers to digital signage in specific locations near their showrooms.
Digital Media allows customers to engage and interact. This provides a much better experience for customers and advertisers are yielding better results. Soon to come is a digital projection similar to a holographic image. Here we go.
For more on Digital Signage, check out www.tpgmarketing.com.
Graham & Graham were the first English overlanders I’d met since meeting Richard Harwood in Chile back in January. Young Graham (22) had flown his bike into Toronto in April and ridden north to the ice roads before turning south to cross the USA. Old(er) Graham had started in Los Angeles and the pair met in Guatemala, joining forces for the ride through Central America. We stood on the roadside for an hour or so having a good chat, swapping stories and info. At 4000m the sun on the road from La Paz to Lake Titicaca was pretty intense and after so long in the shade of the city I’d forgotten just how quickly my head burnt. After six months without seeing another overlander I was clearly back on the ‘Gringo’ trail; not since leaving Brian & Fie in Thailand in March 2007 had I seen three British number plates together.
Meeting Graham & Graham outside La Paz, Bolivia
After 19 days in La Paz I was not only glad to be on the road again but especially glad to be out in the countryside. The fields were bare but the sky was blue and the air was crisp as I cruised gently towards Copacabana on the shore of Lago Titicaca. Not just the largest in South America but at 3812m, possibly the world’s highest navigable lake. Having lost a lot of oil from the rear suspension, riding Lady P was like riding a giant Pogo Stick. Luckily though good road conditions meant it wasn’t too bad but stopping was proving a little tricky as the slightest movement made her bounce up and down, affecting my toehold on the ground.
As the road crossed the final pass to Copacabana so the view over the town and out across the lake was beautiful. A patchwork of bleached fields led to the lakeshore where the dark blue waters stretched to the horizon to meet the brilliant blue sky. I headed down into town and soon caught up with Kiwi Bryn Jones at the hostel he’d arranged. I’d met Bryn in La Paz whilst searching for parts for Lady P. He’d read one of my postings on the Horizons Unlimited website and sent me a message from the UK to say he was flying into La Paz and could bring anything (small) with him if it would help. Unfortunately I very rarely check the Horizons message box and he’d already left the UK when I read his message (DOH!). We did meet up in La Paz though and decided to ride together as far as Nasca in Peru whereupon he would turn south and I north. Bryn had bought his BMW K100 in Los Angeles last year and ridden it down to La Paz where he’d stored it whilst he returned to work for another 10 months. Having rushed through the southern part of Peru last year he was keen to back track a little and see what he’d missed.
Walking track along the narrow Isla del Sol
We left the bikes in the hostel and caught the ferry to Isla del Sol where we spent a night in the perfectly located hostel Inca Kala, waited two hours for pizzas in the adjacent hut/restaurant and shared a table with Jan, a young Danish lad who’d recently qualified with a Physics degree having specialized in Cosmology. It was fascinating conversation in which he talked in numbers most of us cannot comprehend but to him were as normal as reading a bus timetable. The following morning we underestimated the effects of the sun, wind and altitude as we walked 4km along the ridgeline to the Inca ruins and returned to the mainland with split lips and burnt faces.
Peru
Bolivia/Peru border at Kasani
Bryn had been a little on edge as the time to leave Bolivia approached. My temporary import document for Lady P had expired three weeks ago but that was nothing compared to Bryn. He didn’t have one. At the border I’d hoped to get into the Customs office first before Bryn upset them but he was processed through immigration quicker than me and beat me to the office. The customs officer in charge had started ranting at Bryn and was talking about sending him back to the border he’d entered through 10 months previously. I presented my paperwork and held my breath as I was stamped out, the officer either overlooking or failing to notice the expiry date. Meanwhile, Bryn was telling his story to another officer and showing him around his bike. After much negotiating between the three and checking the registration document etc they let him through.
We’d heard stories of ‘Contributions to the Madonna’ being required by the border guards on the Peruvian side so whilst Bryn completed his paperwork I engaged the chief in conversation. He was soon writing down his favorite national dishes and telling me in which regions to find them and it wasn’t long before we were back outside without the word ‘contribution’ being mentioned. Outside the shop opposite, two local couples in their 60’s were sat at a table having a few beers and it wasn’t long before they’d insisted we join them. The brother of one of the men lived above the shop and they’d all come to visit. They spoke no English so conversation was slow and every understanding celebrated by more beer and a toast and soon an hour had disappeared. A young Peruvian lad who spoke good English joined us at the table and filled in all the gaps. It had been a good start to Peru and we rode on full of good feelings.
Cusco
The 'floating' Uros Islands, Lago Titicaca
En-route to Cusco we spent a couple of nights in Puno inorder to visit the ‘floating islands’ on the Uros. In a very basic description, the islands are essentially clumps of floating reeds tied together to make ‘islands’ upon which the people of the Uros live. Tourism now supports (but can’t replace) their economy which comes mainly from hunting and fishing on the lake (Titicaca).
Uros Island Girl, Lago Titicaca
Hostel Estrellita in Cusco had been recommended by Carlos, Monica and Richard and with good reason. They were ready with a sturdy ramp to ride the bikes down the three steps into the huge courtyard, breakfast was great value and we were only a few minutes’ walk from the centre. Bryn said my brakelight wasn’t working but investigation showed the inside of the lens and the bulb to be covered in a thick coating of dust.
We visited a few museums in town including the Museum of pre-Colombian Art. An excellent collection of artifacts but all the descriptions seemed to have been written by a ‘modern’ artist describing their piece for exhibition at the Tate Gallery. I’ve never read such bullshit. Plenty of English words I didn’t understand along with many sentences whose words I did understand but whose meaning I didn’t. The last time I had read English like this was entering Syria from Turkey with Danny where a huge board had instructions written in English words but constructed into sentences that neither of us could fathom. On the corner of the ubiquitous Plaza de Armas we had lunch in the Norton Café, full of motorcycling memorabilia and photographs.
A visit to Machu Picchu is the main reason most people come to Cusco but without spending a ridiculous sum of money on a guided trip involved 120km or so of dirt road, something I wasn’t prepared to do whilst riding Lady P with her temporarily repaired rear suspension. It will have to wait until I return.
Nasca
The 600km ride from Cusco to Nasca has been touted as one of the best routes in South America and we weren’t disappointed. It took us two days to cross four 4000m+ peaks and descend to 1800m in between. (If anyone can explain how I can display the ‘profile’ from my Garmin GPS on this site I’d be grateful)
Along the Cusco to Nasca Road
We rode alongside the Apurimac River, famous the world over for its white water rafting, through terraced valleys and across vast treeless plains to the worlds’ highest sand dune (2070m) on the outskirts of Nasca.
Along the Cusco - Nasca Road
We cruised along taking in the scenery and stopping often for drinks and for Bryn to do some filming and despite taking two days for the ride we still rolled into Nasca late afternoon. As we did, so we were met by a couple of hotel touts, something I don’t recall seeing since Turkey. We followed them to a hotel on the Plaza where we were offered a rather nice room for a third of the published price along with parking for our bikes in the lobby. There was already a BMW 1150 Adventure in the lobby so it was going to be a tight fit.
With Bryn and Mike in Nasca. Peru
As we squeezed the bikes through the doorway so we met Mike, the owner of the BMW. Having sold his Chiropractor business in Washington State, Mike was heading south on the first leg of his world tour. He’d found Robert Wicks’ book Adventure Motorcycling (see sidebar link)quite inspirational during his research and so, he said, it was rather surreal to see me walk through the door. The three of us had a very sociable time over the next two evenings with a few beers and good steak.
'Monkey', Nasca, Peru
My main reason for going to Nasca was to see the famous Nasca Lines. Best viewed from the air I took a short flight to do just that and being a single traveler I got the co-pilots seat. I was OK until I started looking through my cameras viewfinder to take some photos whereupon I felt quite sick. The pilot circles each geoglyph both clockwise and anti-clockwise so that everyone gets a good view and he does so with the aircraft banked over at maximum lean so you’re looking virtually straight down. I was glad I went but also glad to return. It doesn’t bode well for visiting my friend Ian Longstaff who is now competing in aerobatic competitions and is insistent on taking me up the next time I visit. I think I’ll have to strap my sick bag on nosebag style.
From Nasca the three of us went separate directions. Mike headed for Cusco along the route Bryn and I had travelled, Bryn headed south to Arequipa and I headed north to the coastal town of Pisco where I would hang out for a few days before entering Lima.
Pisco
The day after my 40th birthday, 595 people died and 90% of Pisco was destroyed in an earthquake that measured 8.0 on the Richter scale. At least that’s what the International community said. The Peruvian government, so I was told, had declared it 7.9 ensuring it failed to meet the 8.0 requirement to receive government aid. The townsfolk were left to themselves.
The fault line ran right under the Plaza de Armas, alongside the government building and under the San Clemente Cathedral which was holding mass at the time. Whilst the government building remained intact, the Cathedral collapsed killing everyone bar the priest.
I found a very pleasant hostel a few km’s south of the city in Paracas and spent a couple of days taking it easy before heading into Lima.
The Early Retirement of Lady P
Whilst the engine (with the exception of the waterpump of which I’ve replaced 4) has been extremely reliable (apart from the cold starting) the chassis has been another story. The headlight has been held in with zip ties for 3 years + (all the mountings having vibrated themselves to bits), I’ve replaced 4 sets of steering head bearings, 6 fork seals, 7 engine cradle bolts, 4 sets link arm bearings (and the current set are seized), 1 pair of link arms, 1 set linkage bearings (and the current set are seized), 2 Ohlins suspension complete failures and 5 batteries. All that despite stripping cleaning and greasing with waterproof grease on several occasions. Had I been paying dealers to do my repairs I would have spent more repairing the bike than I did buying it.
I could’ve decided to repair Lady P properly and continue my journey to Alaska on paved highways and gentle gravel roads – but that’s not the kind of journey I want. I like to get off the beaten track, cross the mountains via the less travelled passes, camp in the bush, meet people who vary rarely encounter foreigners. To me that is the whole point of having my own transport.
It took a lot of thinking about but I finally decided to replace Lady P and replace her with a Suzuki DR650 (see Suzuki tab for why). After discussing the idea with my sister and old friend Ian Barr in Massachusetts I came up with the following plan: To ship Lady P back to Europe, fly to the USA, buy a used DR650 and ride it to Ian’s in Massachusetts where I would spend three weeks doing as much preparation work as I could before flying to Europe to collect Lady P. I would return to Ian’s at the end of January, finish preparing the DR and return to SA to pick up where I started missing places due to Lady P’s problems. (See Suzuki tab for DR build)
Lima
I rode into Lima early on a Sunday afternoon (the best time to enter any SA city) and soon found my way to Hostel Espańa as recommended by Maarten Munnik. A beautiful old colonial building that appeared as much stately home as it did hostel and is located just a few blocks away from the Plaza de Armas and many beautiful buildings. Being September though I’d arrived right in the middle of the Garua, a thick cloud/fog that covers the city from June to November.
Lobby parking in Hostal Espana, Lima, Peru
I was in Lima to find a shipping agent for Lady P and doing so proved somewhat of a mission. In fact in turned out to be the worst shipping experience of the trip to date. Prior to my arrival in the city I’d been in touch with Shenker, a large shipping company recommended by Thierry (Switzerland F650). Despite several emails being exchanged it still took another three days and a visit to their office before they came back to me with a quote. I nearly fell off my chair when they did; at U$4500 it was three times what I’d paid from Singapore – a journey of double the distance.
I posted a request for information on the HUBB and received a reply from a very helpful Peruvian now residing in California. He said his brother still lived in Lima and had a friend who worked in a shipping agent. I contacted the friend and set into motion the process of obtaining a quote. His initial response was U$550 + Crating + Bill of Lading + Customs fees. That all sounded good and I guesstimated a final bill of U$800-900. WRONG! The stumbling block seemed to be crating and it took two days plus the weekend before I got a final quote – U$2100!! Better than the Shenker quote but still way more than I was prepared to pay. A look at his breakdown of cost showed U$200+ union fees and I began to wonder if Lima was just a particularly expensive port and set about making enquires up and down the coast as far south as Santiago in Chile to Quito in Ecuador.
Whilst awaiting replies I started looking through the phone book in the lobby when a taxi driver asked what I was looking for. Once I’d explained he took me to see a friend of his in the building next door who was a travel agent. I immediately thought the taxi driver hadn’t fully understood what I meant but it turned out the travel agent – Enrique – had contacts in the shipping world and within 24hrs had a quote for U$1215 which I naturally accepted.
Two days later I followed Enrique across the city to the shipping agents premises to deliver Lady P. Unfortunately the agent didn’t speak a word of English and whilst I can get by in Spanish on a daily basis, the technicalities of arranging a shipment were way beyond me and I was reliant on Enrique to translate though he was struggling to translate the technicalities also. It was agreed that Enrique and I would return in the morning to complete the paperwork and for me to disconnect the battery, drain the fuel and supervise the packaging.
When we arrived the following morning I was horrified to discover Lady P already packed and it seemed I threw the whole deal into question when I insisted she was unpacked sufficiently for me to disconnect the battery and pack a few extra things. I’d also given crate dimensions that involved removing the front wheel, mudguard and mirrors which they clearly hadn’t been able to do. I was incredulous when told I wouldn’t be able to pack Lady P like that as the shipment would be classified differently (spare parts) and become much more complicated!!
With the battery disconnected we set about the paperwork. This in itself was like nothing I’d experienced in other countries. All the SA countries I’ve travelled through so far use a ‘Notaria’, similar to a solicitor/lawyer just a little bit down the scale (so it appeared). They are used – amongst other things – to authenticate documents, give certain permissions etc. In my case my temporary import document, vehicle ownership document and written agreement with the shipping agent were checked against me and my passport; photocopied, stamped and signed with copies given to me and the agent.
Later that afternoon the agent appeared in my hostel looking rather stressed and insisting we go to the nearest Notaria. It transpired that the Customs office had refused to allow the agent to deal with my temporary import document on my behalf without having permission in writing and authenticated by a Notaria. As a result we sat in another Notarias office for another hour.
During this frustrating eleven days I was kept sane by a few good people in my hostel. Ian, who Id spent time with in Salta and Sucre arrived as did Christian, an American cycling home from Ushuaia and finally Australian Warren. We soon found a cracking lunchtime restaurant near the hostel that served the national dish Ceviche, raw fish marinated in lime or lemon juice and absolutely delicious. A few blocks from there a local baker served great apple pie and a lemon (meringue) pie to die for (5” thick!). A slice of either along with a coffee was less than a quid. Good for the budget – bad for the waistline.
My other task was to track down a suitable Suzuki DR650 for sale in the USA. I found three potentials online, the first of which sold very quickly. The second was a mere 2hr drive from my friends place near Boston and being already suitably modified was looking good but by the time the owner replied to my email it was sold. That left one in Salt Lake City, Utah. My first contact with the owner didn’t go well as he miss-interpreted my initial email and perceived a scam. Once I’d proved my identity and Ian (yes, another one) became very helpful. Working as an aircraft technician for Delta Airlines, not only was the bike properly looked after but he also got me a ‘Buddy Pass’ for my flight from Lima to Salt Lake City. It was the first time in my life I’d got on a plane and turned left (Business Class) and the first time I’d ever wished the flight longer than it was. “Would you like the wine menu sir?”, “Would you like waking for breakfast sir?” After supper I pushed the ‘sleep’ button on the automated chair and stretched out fully under the down duvet. I could learn to put up with that. J
USA
The joy didn’t last long though. My Buddy Pass meant travelling standby and I was soon moving from gate to gate as I was repeatedly bumped from the list in Atlanta airport. Having arrived at 0800 I eventually left at 1820 on the 5th of 6th daily flights and was met by man mountain Ian in SLC. He took me to the cheapest Motel in town ( Motel 8 ) but at U$50 it was way out of my budget but I had to suck it up for the night. I bought an internet card and soon found a hostel in the city for U$15. That would be where I would head if I agreed to buy Ian’s bike. Ian picked me up and took me for breakfast before we headed over to his house. With four children the garage was pretty full of bikes and motorbikes for all ages. Amongst everything was the DR, every bit as tidy as Ian’s photo’s suggested, 2006 model, 2402miles on the clock and still wearing its original tyres. After a successful inspection and test ride we agreed a price and set about the paperwork.
The vendor Ian was a Man Mountain!
I had intended to register the DR using my friends address near Boston but a complication that nobody could explain a way around prevented me from doing so. Utah State requires the vendor to remove the license plate(s) (registration plate) at the time of sale. The buyer then applies for a new one, a process which is completed whilst you wait if you attend a Department of Motor Vehicles (DMV) Office. DMV’s only register vehicles in their own state so in order for a resident of another state to buy a vehicle they provide a ‘Temporary Tag’ valid for 96hrs. However, Massachusetts don’t allow a vehicle to enter their state on a Temporary Tag!
Luckily for me Ian came to the rescue and said I could keep the bike registered at his address and also use it for arranging insurance, which I did very quickly online. Ian was good to his word and forwarded the insurance papers to me in Massachusetts.
The only downside to the whole process was that it was Saturday and as an attempt at cost reduction the DMV’s opening hours had been changed to 0700-1800 Mon-Thurs which meant staying in SLC until Monday.
I arrived at the office just after opening on Monday morning and within 20 minutes was bolting a new license plate onto the DR.
Golden Arches Tour
No, not Canyonlands…McDonalds!! I became increasingly colder as climbed I-80 away from Salt Lake City. The DR had neither a screen for wind protection, heated grips, nor a power socket to plug in my heated vest and despite handlebar muffs and two pairs of gloves I couldn’t feel my fingers. As I crested the pass approaching Park City so the three lane interstate was reduced to one as snow covered the outer two. I was planning on taking US-40 across the mountains to Denver to visit Lora Felger whom I’d met in Chile back in February but the weather had other ideas. With snow settling on the Interstate there was no way I could risk a ride through the mountains – I needed an alternative route.
I pulled into McDonalds at Park City to warm up with a coffee, check my map and add a few layers of clothing. Being unable to turn off the engine brought home just how cold it was (the key was frozen in the ignition switch). I hit the kill switch before realizing the lights were still on and so had to park in the sun for 10 minutes before I could remove the key. I approached the counter bright red from the temperature change and with snot dripping from my nose I asked for a Café Latte only to be asked “Do you want that iced or hot?”!!! I think the position of my eyebrows gave away my answer before I could speak. There was, afterall, 5cm of snow on the ground and I was riding a motorcycle!
With my coffee drunk and a few more layers of clothing added I hit the road once more. To keep out of the mountains I followed I-80 due east through southern Wyoming to Cheyenne and I-25 south to Denver. Again the weather decided it was going to have some fun with me and it wasn’t long before I rode into the first of two snow storms. As the snowfall increased so my speed decreased and the intensity at which I wiped my visor clear increased. Eventually the snow on my visor was freezing on faster than I could wipe it off and I was forced to pull onto the shoulder. I put on my safety glasses that I keep for emergency use in the rain and dark and set off along the shoulder at 50km/h with the gap between glasses and helmet giving me the biggest dose of ‘ice cream head’ I’ve ever had. As I rode along I recalled the weather forecast I’d seen the previous day which said “showers”! I’d had better ideas.
I escaped the blizzard before shapping this..
I'd had better ideas!
I rode like this for some 30km or so before moving into some brighter, though windier weather as I entered Wyoming. A call of nature led to a roadside stop and my first incident on the DR. As you can see in the photo, Ian is a big fellow and whilst the 50mm taller than stock seat and extra stiff suspension suited him perfectly they made my life somewhat awkward. At traffic lights I would try to stop at the roadside and put a foot on the kerb but when that wasn’t possible I had to slide off the edge of the seat whereupon I could just about get a big toe on the ground. As I came to a halt I slid off the seat to the left and just touched the floor as a gust of wind blew from the left, blowing me over and snapping off the r/h rear footrest. Bollocks. I thought I’d wait a few minutes before unloading the bike to pick it up in the hope that someone would stop to offer a hand. Sure enough a monster sized 4×4 pulled over and the driver got out to help. After checking I was OK he quickly helped me with the bike and was on his way. He didn’t ask what had happened but I could see him glance at the road that was dead straight as far as you could see in either direction. I felt a complete knob.
Another snow storm came and went but fortunately wasn’t as bad as the first. It was still cold though. An ambient temperature of 3°C meant the windchill at 100km/h was about -12°C and despite good clothing the cold gradually crept in as I sat in it hour after hour. After one final stop for a warming coffee at Ronnies (McDonalds) where I-80 met I-25 I turned south to Denver and rolled into Lora’s just after dark.
Saying goodbye to Ron Nugent
Lora was flying down to Chile the following day en-route to Antartica for her annual 3 month visit – hence the need to ride to Denver in one day. She and Ron were great company and the evening soon raced by. Lora has become a BIG motorcycle racing fan and attended both US Moto GP’s and the WSB in 2009. I could have stayed at Lora’s place once she’d left but staying with Ron was a far more sociable option and the DR was at home in his garage with his immaculate BMW R80 GS, 2 Cagiva Elephants and a Norton Commando(?).
The big push east
Doing my best to avoid the Interstate I picked up US-36 and rode due east. Kansas was defined by mile after mile of undulating farmland. Farmland meant fences and fences meant limited (ie none) bush camping and so I opted to ride on after dark (to avoid being seen) then pitch my tent in a roadside rest stop somewhere NW of Kansa City. Thanks to Ron who’d leant me his camping stove I was able to brew some coffee and cook supper and being 80m or so from the surprisingly quiet rode I had a good nights sleep. I had my tent paced before sunrise and was riding soon after. Within an hour it had started raining and so it was to be for the next 2.5 days. Yep, you read that right, it rained non-stop for 2.5 days, 2500km across half of Kansas, all of Missouri, Illinois, Indiana and Ohio. In fact it didn’t stop raining until close to the Pennsylvania/New York border. Despite wearing a waterproof over my BMW jacket (which has a Goretex liner) I was still wet in a few places by the days end – the lack of a screen was driving the water through my riding gear and the thought of camping really had no appeal. Motels were expensive but I calculated that by riding for a few hours after dark and leaving again before sunrise I could get to my destination near Boston in three days. For U$60 Motel 8 provided a large room with an air-con/heater unit, a bath and a help yourself breakfast so with the heater set to MAX and the room looking like a Chinese laundry I took a long soak in the tub. Despite being wrapped in bin bags most of my kit was damp and I had to get up really early to re pack it all before hitting the road at dawn.
Once again it was Ronnies that kept me going; space to spread out my wet riding gear, a clear view of my bike and good coffee. At one such stop I peeled off three layers of clothing, two pairs of gloves, balaclava and facemask. It was still pissing down outside and as I approached the counter my boots squelched and oozed water. After placing my order I was asked “Is that to eat in or to go?” and I wondered whether the staff were trained or programmed.
Much of the countryside passed me by in a blur of spray from other vehicles but even that couldn’t hide the beauty that was autumn (Fall) in Pennsylvania, where the sheer variety of colours really did resemble an artist’s palette. Once I’d finally ridden out of the rain I should’ve stopped to take some photos but I was pushing my luck to make it to Milford, MA by dark so kept riding.
Old Friends
Ian Barr and I had been friends since 1993 when we’d met whilst working for Stannah Stairlifts in the UK and this was my third visit since he’d emigrated back in 1996. Ian has led a somewhat colourful life that has brought him a long way from Hull to here in MA where he lives with his wife Joanne, her daughter Nicole and a most beautiful, friendly, intelligent Golden Retriever – Ashley.
Haloween proper in the US of A
“Our home is your home – I’ve even cleared the garage out for you to work in”. I couldn’t have hoped for a warmer welcome and was soon in the thick of the banter the Barr household is built on. Halloween was the big event during my stay and I soon found myself sitting on the kitchen floor carving pumpkins with Nicole and the neighbors kids.
Three weeks flashed by in a blur of tracking down parts for the DR, replacing my worn-out tent and other camping kit etc. Ian knew where to source most raw materials but some things (like thin-walled steel tube) took some finding. Ian had me added to the insurance for the ‘Beast’, his old Ford pick-up which was a huge help and enabled me to go in search of tools/parts/materials etc. I won’t go into details about building the DR here but will change the tab ‘Bikes’ to ‘BMW’ and add another – ‘Suzuki’.
Joanne’s cooking and a regular supply of bagels and muffins along with a huge box of candy left over from Halloween helped me add a few pounds just when I least needed it – the run up to Christmas. I justified (or at least tried to) my over indulgence by reasoning that goodies like this were hard to find in South America and it was ok to fill my boots while they were available.
European Vacation
On November 9th I flew into Hamburg and two days later collected Lady P from the shipping agents warehouse. Having been told the earliest I could collect Lady P was the following day I visited the warehouse to arrange a customs inspection. I was surprised to be told that it was indeed the last day I could collect her and that if I returned tomorrow it would cost me another 45euros in storage fees. Having already paid 200euroes in port duties/handling fees etc I took delivery of Lady P there and then. The office staff were very helpful but the guys in the warehouse weren’t. In Thailand, Indonesia and Chile the warehouse workers fell over themselves to help uncrate my bike but here they wouldn’t even lend me a crowbar. I raced back to the train station, crossed the city and walked back to my hostel where I collected my tools, riding jacket and helmet before retracing my route back to the warehouse. I’d been told they were open until 1800 but as my German is virtually non-existent I may have got it wrong. I returned to find the warehouse in darkness and the main gates locked but with a few lights still glowing in the offices I walked to another entrance and managed to return to my bike where I’d left her in her crate under a spot light. Using a few pieces of timber from the skip I managed to pries open the crate and get her out by myself. After re-connecting the battery she fired-up first time and I set about re-fitting the seat, rack etc as quickly as possible whilst keeping one eye on the shrinking line of cars in the car park.
On the way back to my hostel I stopped for fuel and got the biggest shock I’d had in a long time. 50 euros for a tank full of petrol!!!!!!
Friends from the road
Copenhagen
Riding from Hamburg to my sister’s in Jersey was something I’d never planned on doing but it was a great opportunity to visit some very special people I’d met along the way. Those of you who have been reading from the beginning will remember Brian & Fie (R1150GS Adventure) that Danny and I met in India, Cambodia and Thailand back in 2006/7 and so I took a detour to visit them and their 15 month old son Vincent in their ‘new ‘ home north of Copenhagen.
Leaving Copenhagen behind me I crossed the second suspension bridge to return to mainland Denmark and began looking for fuel – too late. On my way into the country I ran the main fuel tank dry (as I often do) and turned on the auxiliary tanks whilst still moving, only this time the engine didn’t re start. It took me a few seconds to realize I hadn’t re-connected them at the warehouse (they had to be drained for shipping) and by the time I managed to stop on the hard shoulder (I was of course passing an entry slip road when I ran out) I had lost a fair amount of fuel. During my stay with Brian & Fie I’d forgotten all about this episode and combined with the strong headwind my fuel calculations were way off.
St.David of Denmark!
I was, of course, miles from anywhere when I ran out but hoped the ⅓ltr I’d drained from my stove would get me off the motorway and into a fuel station – it didn’t. I could only push Lady P for 100m or so at a time as the combination of Goretex socks and Cold Killer long johns inside my boots wouldn’t allow my calf muscles to expand as they needed and they just seized up. A minute or so rest and I could push for another 100m or so. After 1.5km I was beginning to wonder if anyone would stop when a purple Golf Cabriolet with English licence plates pulled up behind me. David gave me the contents of his spare can and suggested we pull off the motorway for a chat. At the next exit we did just that and he asked how far I was planning to ride as there had been a severe weather warning on the radio, the road south was already blocked and the bridges I’d just crossed were set to be closed. When I told him I was heading to Holland he offered me a place to stay at his place, ½hr drive away.
I accepted and followed him back to his house where his garden contained three cars, a van and five motorcycles. After changing out of my riding gear and hanging it all up to dry we headed into town for some lunch. It turns out David had lived in Denmark for 23 years and was a University lecturer. I also learnt that he wrote for a Danish 250cc European Championship road racing team. Having myself raced motorcycles in the British Championship from 1988 to 1997 we soon realized we knew many of the same people and so the memories flowed. After lunch we drove to his girlfriends house where I enjoyed more Danish hospitality and a hearty evening meal.
Whilst at Davids I picked up a copy of ‘Bike ‘ magazine and flicked through it to find an article of a competition winner riding Barry Sheene’s 1976 world championship winning Suzuki. The winner had won a competition to find Britain’s Ultimate Biker and included competing in Motocross, Road Racing and on-road navigation amongst other skills and the winner turned out to be none other than Will Sawyer, a friend from home who I’d teamed up for the Dawn 2 Dusk 12hr enduro back in 2004. Nice 1 Will!
David had been a real Samaritan and epitomized the notion of travelers looking after fellow travelers that I’d discovered the world over. Another bad day turned good.
The morning dawned drier and brighter and I hit the road in time to get me to The Nederlands in daylight.
Next stop was close to Assen in the north of The Netherlands where I visited Steven & Marlouse, the cyclists we met in Malaysia and Sydney. Having spent 4 years cycling from Holland to Kathmandu, Shanghai to Sydney, New Zealand and India they returned to Europe and cycled home to announce they are expecting their first child in February.
It was a similar story for Maarten & Ilse (Africa Twin) whom we first met whilst staying in a houseboat on Nigin Lake in Kashmir. We spent plenty more time together in Thailand and Malaysia before going our separate ways – Danny and I to New Zealand and Maarten & Ilse to Italy for a slow ride back to Holland where, after two years, two months, two weeks and two days they announced they were no longer just a ‘twosome’ as Ilse was pregnant with their first child – the delightful Lilou.
Finally, I paid my first visit to Luxembourg to visit René (Africa Twin) who I’d met in Puerto Natales, Chile back in January on the day I also met Darren (Australia) and Thierry (Switzerland) both riding F650’s.
It was great to spend some time with all of them – their company as easy as I’d remembered.
Jersey Bound
Luxembourg to St.Malo was the longest leg of my ride to my sister’s. I wasn’t actually booked on the ferry until the following evening but severe weather had recently caused cancellations and was set to do so again the following day. I kept my head down for the 800km ride and was glad of the first decent weather since arriving in Europe. Having had just a quick snack en-route I rolled into St.Malo with enough time to visit the supermarket and strap as much Hoegarden and Leffe beer to my bike as possible before boarding the ferry for the one hour crossing.
Lady P…a Final Word…
My 2004 BMW F650 had carried me 133725km (83095miles) through 37 countries across four continents over the past 3yrs 9mths. Her Odometer reading is 141581km (87977miles). She’s carried me through deserts, along beaches, across rivers and over mountains in temperatures from -10°C to +48°C. Not once has she left me stranded at the roadside. Only time will tell as to whether I’ve made the right decision to replace her.
I cannot leave my ‘BMW Years’ behind without saying two thank you’s. Firstly to Tony Jakeman at BMW Motorrad UK who supported Danny and I from the beginning and provided our Rallye II riding suits which I will continue to wear. And secondly to Dean Buck of BMW Battersea. Dean started his career in the motorcycle industry by polishing bikes my local dealership whilst still at school. From apprentice mechanic to workshop manager Deans attention to detail has made him my first (and last) point of contact whenever trying to resolve a problem with Lady P. Unluckily for Dean (but luckily for me) he cut his teeth in a multi-franchise dealer and so just because I’m no longer riding a BMW doesn’t mean I won’t be emailing Dean when I’m stuck! – Thanks a lot guys.
Christmas and beyond…
Coming to Jersey wasn’t just about retiring Lady P but about spending Christmas with my sister Michele and her partner Paul. Shell and I have always spent Christmas together and in recent years she has visited me in Thailand and Australia. That’s all about to change as she is currently 6 months pregnant (first time) and therefore can’t fly.
I have a return ticket to Boston at the end of January whereupon I will finish preparing the DR and return to my journey. My heart wants to return to South America asap but early enquiries into the weather/seasons suggests I may be better to ride to Alaska this summer and return to South America afterwards. Another factor in re-commencing my journey will be the weather in the NE USA. When I told Ian and Joanne of my plan to leave them mid-February they just laughed and said I wouldn’t be going anywhere by motorcycle at that time of year. “Why not”? I asked… “…eeerrrr…..snow…. I’d completely overlooked that. So, until the snow melts…
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Chapter 20 photos in Boliva PtII and Peru
Contents: Special Edition: Suspension Spectacular; BMW vs. CBX Sport-Tour Comparison – high-tech or old world tradition?; Tests: Yamaha IT465H, Yamaha XJ550RH Seca, GS750ET 10,000 mile report; Minitest: Suzuki GS750EX; Sport Lines: Has-beens at Houston; more
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