It could get messy. Send in Jenny.
Captain Custard
Once again we found ourselves making an impromptu stop by the side of the road. Greg was complaining that his bike steered really badly round
But they may as well have been.
Faro Rally, Portugal
2,550 kilometres (1,593 miles)
Chopped Honda C90
We like bikes and we like movies so we thought we’d do our own version of “Easy Rider”, the iconic biker’s film. Naturally, most of the pre-trip planning didn’t involve what motorcycles we would use or where we would go, but agreeing on a good word that rhymed with “Easy“.
After discounting “Breezy“, “Queasy” and “Sleezy” it was put to a vote between “Peasey” and “Cheesy“. In a show of hands the winner was “Cheesy” on the basis that most of us agreed cheese tastes better than peas.
Following this intellectual powerhouse of a meeting we decided to reconvene at a later date to discuss how we should go about acquiring a fleet of Harley Davidsons.
Once again we found ourselves around the kitchen table at Matt’s house. There was a brief suggestion that maybe “Sneezy” rider was the way forward. This was quickly shut down on the basis that this could add another whole day of debate and also none of us were dwarves.
The more pressing issue of the day concerned the fact that our budget would not stretch to a fleet of Harleys let alone shipping them to the USA to recreate the journey from Los Angeles to New Orleans.
Matt was way ahead of the game (worrying because that never happens). He said he had a solution for the bikes and promptly laid out his blueprint* on the kitchen table.
*a beer mat with a drawing in blue pen
Long of fork. Short of sense.
Safety first. Non-flammable pencil.
Matt’s proposed solution was not to buy Harleys, but to make them. Out of Honda C90s.
His scribble drawing made it a tad hard to visualise but it was agreed that we would probably have to go through several prototypes and several broken bones before we had something that was rideable. Jenny had popped to the loo so we promptly volunteered her as the test rider.
A sacrificial C90 was dragged from the garage and stripped pending some minor alterations with an angle grinder:
In an unnervingly short amount of time, Prototype 1 “The Fonda” was ready for its maiden voyage. Jenny was summoned, looked a bit bewildered, but cracked on anyway.
The test ride had to be carried out without a front brake as the cable no longer reached the drum brake on the front wheel. Jenny was unperturbed. She put on a lid, wobbled out of the drive and crashed. We chalked this up as “promising” since we weren’t expecting her to make it past the gatepost.
During an extensive debrief Jenny advised that the reason for her crash was “wobbly handlebars”. This seemed to tally with the visual data which showed that she drove in a wobbly fashion before lying horizontally with the bike on top of her. Armed with this insight the next modification was to lengthen the handlebars to compensate for the ridiculously long forks.
The harmonious note of an busy angle grinder once again hung in the air complimented by the thud of a lump hammer.
Prototype 2 “The Nicholson” was wheeled out.
This seemed to do the trick as this time Jenny made it all the way to the end of the road before forgetting she didn’t have a front brake. The resulting glancing blow with a wheelie bin did at least prove the elongated forks had some structural integrity.
A few more mods later and Protoype 3, “The Hopper” went out for a test run.
On the basis that there was no crashing it was declared the final production model.
So now we had the wheels, we just needed a route. We decided that the USA was a bit far away and far too many people get shot for a petty traffic violation.
Our handmade chopped C90s were another level of mechanical liability beyond a broken tail light or a fender bender so we opted to be cautious and go for a country where riding an un-roadworthy moped is a national sport. Hello Spain.
So now we had a route we just needed a destination. Some furious Googling ensued.
Some obvious comedy highlights would be La Tomatina festival or the Pamplona Bull run, but our timings were all wrong. Eventually we found an event that fitted the bill. Move over New Orleans, we’re going to Faro. In Portugal.
Donkeys are surprisingly good at carrying beer.
Strange things happen if you camp in a cemetery.
The swimming pool on a cross channel ferry doesn’t work well in a storm.
Tree sap can eat your tent.
Engines need to have oil in them to work.
You shouldn’t go on a fairground rider after 3 pork kebabs and 10 beers.
Discover all these facts and more in our Trip Diary!
So after months of thinking about it, weeks of talking about it, and hours planning it, our quest was set. A ride of 2,500 kms to the Moto Faro Rally on the south coast of Portugal was go.
A week of cruising across Spain and Portugal and then three days of live music and partying at one of the biggest biker festivals in Europe.
Over the next few weeks a further eight chopped C90’s were churned out in progressively sloppier fashion resulting in the turd that was to be Greg’s bike. We figured since he didn’t have a bike licence and couldn’t ride that he’d be the least likely to notice how shit it was. It worked.
Not wanting to risk the wrath of the UK Police on what were effectively motorised Meccano sets, we trailered the bikes to the ferry port. Unfortunately this meant we hadn’t done any serious road-testing before arriving in northern Spain.
Welcome to Cheesy Rider.
Once again we found ourselves making an impromptu stop by the side of the road. Greg was complaining that his bike steered really badly round
If proof were needed that you can’t take a moped that’s been festering in a back garden for years, chop it in half, weld it
Six weeks before the trip we’d received an email “This is Moto Clube Faro – we are interested in your trip – we would like
A group of young lads on squeaky bicycles marveled at the bikes parked up as we ate lunch in a shaded café. Their wide-eyed expressions
