teerex51
The Italian Scallion
This was supposed to be the last tour of the Summer. My buddy "Cap'n Hook" and I were planning to ride South from Milan and board a Corsica-bound ferry in Livorno (Leghorn). Once on the French island, we meant to ride through Corsica all the way down to Sardinia and do a 3-day tour of the island.
The first part went down without a hitch. We landed in Corsica on a bright summer day and hit the twisties almost immediately. Corsica is rugged and beautiful and there's a great road that cuts the island diagonally (not the one shown on map) that's probably as much fun as you can have with your clothes on.
In about 5 hours we'd reached Bonifacio, at the southern end of the island and had 45 minutes to wait for our ferry ride to Sardinia. The town of Bonifacio is scenically perched on a limestone cliff overlooking the often treacherous Straits that separate the two islands.
The next day we left bright and early to hook up with an FJR friend who lives in Sardinia. He soon took the lead and rode point to the NW of the island to the beautiful beach of Stintino. Too bad we had to ride through a deluge to get there, but we did not want to miss out on this side tour.
Around midday the sky cleared and we headed down the western side of the island to another must-see landmark, Capo Caccia, a finger of rock pointed into the Mediterranean.
From here we rode through the town of Alghero and headed south to a coastal village named Bosa. The road here is awesome, it follows the coast most of the time, but will occasionally cut inland for a few miles and wind its way back to the water again. Our Sardinian point man knew the road like the back of his hand and was waltzing down the twisties quickly and with no apparent effort. However, Cap'n Hook decided to jump ahead and pick up the pace even further. Predictably, the local guy started tagging behind him and the game became dangerous. I was having a great time and decided to let them have their competitive fun. I thought I was riding fast enough and I figured they'd soon grow tired of dogfighting.
The next thing I know upon rounding one bend is that Cap'n Hook is down and his bike has hit a concrete wall. :blink: I could not believe my eyes. The road sweeps gently to the left but it's by no means a dangerous bend, except for its adverse camber and a bit of gravel on the very edge of the blacktop. Hook claims he suddenly found himself riding on the road's edge and could not lean back into the curve. He grabbed a handful of brakes but the ABS kicked in immediately and lengthened his stopping distance. He must have hit that concrete wall at 15 mph while hanging onto the handlebars. His legs flew up from under him and he fell to the left on top of the bike. Nothing broken, just a sore left shoulder and a few bruises here and there.
Here you clearly see the road and the point in which he left it heading for that dang wall. The bike hit it at 90 degrees and the fork bent instantly, crushing the radiator and pushing it into the exhaust headers. Our local buddy called his dealer's service dept. and a mechanic came and picked us up a couple of hours later. We had to literally lift the FJR into the van as the front tire was solidly stuck. He dropped us off at our friend's garage where we went to work on the bike. Our tour was obviously shot and the itinerary as shown on the map had to be scrapped. We now needed to get the bike back home from the nearest port.
In the garage, we removed the front wheel and took an angle grinder to the headers and cut them off to allow the front wheel to roll. This was not easy, the wheel could not be angled left or right and needed to be half deflated to rotate freely. We worked on it for four hours the evening of the crash and another three the next morning. Then our friendly service guy showed up in his van and took the bike to the nearest port.
That left us some free time to stroll around the Sardinian town of Sassari and take in the sights. Nothing to write home about, to be honest <_< except maybe for this large piazza, which I guess is the town's main square.
Interestingly enough, right smack in the town center there is an old penitentiary which is still in operation. You can see the floodlights and there's guards walking their rounds along the perimeter walls. It reminded me of a Mexican prison in an old western movie.
We eventually made our way to the ferry harbor. The bike had been dumped some 200 yds from the boat ramp and we figured it was way too far to push it on a deflated front tire. We put it on its center stand, pivoted it to "aim" for the boat and then Hook actually rode it all the way on board. That made for an interesting (and loud) scene...
A 12-hour sea crossing took us to the port of Genoa in Northern Italy and from there the bike was trucked to Milan. Earlier today we removed all broken parts in order to decide whether to fix it or part it out. The front rim is toast and so's the fork (luckily the frame seems intact). The front fender is history, too, and the headers have been chopped like celery sticks. Not a pretty sight but any crash you walk away from is a damn good crash...
Stef
The first part went down without a hitch. We landed in Corsica on a bright summer day and hit the twisties almost immediately. Corsica is rugged and beautiful and there's a great road that cuts the island diagonally (not the one shown on map) that's probably as much fun as you can have with your clothes on.
In about 5 hours we'd reached Bonifacio, at the southern end of the island and had 45 minutes to wait for our ferry ride to Sardinia. The town of Bonifacio is scenically perched on a limestone cliff overlooking the often treacherous Straits that separate the two islands.
The next day we left bright and early to hook up with an FJR friend who lives in Sardinia. He soon took the lead and rode point to the NW of the island to the beautiful beach of Stintino. Too bad we had to ride through a deluge to get there, but we did not want to miss out on this side tour.
Around midday the sky cleared and we headed down the western side of the island to another must-see landmark, Capo Caccia, a finger of rock pointed into the Mediterranean.
From here we rode through the town of Alghero and headed south to a coastal village named Bosa. The road here is awesome, it follows the coast most of the time, but will occasionally cut inland for a few miles and wind its way back to the water again. Our Sardinian point man knew the road like the back of his hand and was waltzing down the twisties quickly and with no apparent effort. However, Cap'n Hook decided to jump ahead and pick up the pace even further. Predictably, the local guy started tagging behind him and the game became dangerous. I was having a great time and decided to let them have their competitive fun. I thought I was riding fast enough and I figured they'd soon grow tired of dogfighting.
The next thing I know upon rounding one bend is that Cap'n Hook is down and his bike has hit a concrete wall. :blink: I could not believe my eyes. The road sweeps gently to the left but it's by no means a dangerous bend, except for its adverse camber and a bit of gravel on the very edge of the blacktop. Hook claims he suddenly found himself riding on the road's edge and could not lean back into the curve. He grabbed a handful of brakes but the ABS kicked in immediately and lengthened his stopping distance. He must have hit that concrete wall at 15 mph while hanging onto the handlebars. His legs flew up from under him and he fell to the left on top of the bike. Nothing broken, just a sore left shoulder and a few bruises here and there.
Here you clearly see the road and the point in which he left it heading for that dang wall. The bike hit it at 90 degrees and the fork bent instantly, crushing the radiator and pushing it into the exhaust headers. Our local buddy called his dealer's service dept. and a mechanic came and picked us up a couple of hours later. We had to literally lift the FJR into the van as the front tire was solidly stuck. He dropped us off at our friend's garage where we went to work on the bike. Our tour was obviously shot and the itinerary as shown on the map had to be scrapped. We now needed to get the bike back home from the nearest port.
In the garage, we removed the front wheel and took an angle grinder to the headers and cut them off to allow the front wheel to roll. This was not easy, the wheel could not be angled left or right and needed to be half deflated to rotate freely. We worked on it for four hours the evening of the crash and another three the next morning. Then our friendly service guy showed up in his van and took the bike to the nearest port.
That left us some free time to stroll around the Sardinian town of Sassari and take in the sights. Nothing to write home about, to be honest <_< except maybe for this large piazza, which I guess is the town's main square.
Interestingly enough, right smack in the town center there is an old penitentiary which is still in operation. You can see the floodlights and there's guards walking their rounds along the perimeter walls. It reminded me of a Mexican prison in an old western movie.
We eventually made our way to the ferry harbor. The bike had been dumped some 200 yds from the boat ramp and we figured it was way too far to push it on a deflated front tire. We put it on its center stand, pivoted it to "aim" for the boat and then Hook actually rode it all the way on board. That made for an interesting (and loud) scene...
A 12-hour sea crossing took us to the port of Genoa in Northern Italy and from there the bike was trucked to Milan. Earlier today we removed all broken parts in order to decide whether to fix it or part it out. The front rim is toast and so's the fork (luckily the frame seems intact). The front fender is history, too, and the headers have been chopped like celery sticks. Not a pretty sight but any crash you walk away from is a damn good crash...
Stef
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