ZMR V2 Vs Pulsar NS200 – SportTourer vs SuperBike – Dating Material vs Wife Material

On Jul 26, 2018Jul 26, 2018 By The PossumIn Biking1 Comment

“For a Pulsar named NS200 so loved The Possum, that she decided to have a top box on her, rather than have Possum’s backbone that has no spares suffer and break. Also Kanjo.“(see previous post) She went on a 2 day hiatus to the garage, leaving me wife-less for 2 days.

“I’m going to get in shape. I’m sure I’ll be back with a huuuuge bumbum(topbox)“, she mouthed through her exhaust on her way out. She was right by the way. She came back with a huuuuuuge bumbum. 😂

When we got to the garage, as she was checking in, I noticed a ZMR 2014 in the corner. More like she noticed me. And she was like, “We should hangout sometime, you guy. My guy won’t mind.”

Me: “I used to have a 2013 ZMR, you know. All you ZMR’s are just the same. Mschew. I’ve moved on. Now I’m married to a Pulsar.”

“Aki I’m different woishe. Imagine, New ECU, New frame, even new tyres. I’m so different. Give me a chance.” She responded.

It was decided. 2 days and no more. Tungeona.

Here are my impressions.

Disclaimer: I cannot compare fuel consumption nor raw power coz my pulsar might need a different carb settings, or a new carb. Shucks, I must learn these things. Anyway, cha muhimu ni uhai. Marriage takes time.

A real looker

Okay, so, so far I’ve settled with a Pulsar for nearly a year. She was/is marriage material indeed. Doing what worked, and real companion. For a person of my height, weight, muscular build, or lack there of, she is just perfect. At least I can carry her. And I did on my wedding day. Not like some people out there at my height riding R1200’s and forcing issues.

*I’m not bitter. I promise I’m not. I’m also not pointing anyone out with this. Loool. Feel secure*.

But this ZMR, it’s like dating a slay queen kiasi. A real head turner. “Waiter, can I get some kiburi(pride) with a side of fries? Thanks.” All the guys around always look when she passes. We can thank fairings for that. They look right up until they discover it’s not a supersport.

Such a mbenye though, this particular one. She also speaks her mind, ALL THE TIME, she doesn’t shurrrup, keeping guys away during lane-splitting, with no apologies. But then, sometimes, it’s a bit too much, no? A loud exhaust? My bae is quiet.

The body position is way more aggressive, almost super-sport like(I guess). Made me consider actually delaying my next naked or tourer and getting a 600 super-sport for a year or so then moving on to actual goal bikes. (Of course, Pulsar bae is okay with being a co-wife. Well I think she is. We’ve not had the discussion. Tihihihi.)

Amongst the multitudes – traffic

Suprisingly though, the handlebars achieve an impressive position during turning on the ZMR. It is also not that heavy – either that, or I have become much better at handling bigger girls and don’t feel the weight. Tips to handling heavier girls include using phrases like “You’ve grown healthier in such a wonderful way.“, and avoiding those like:

“You are round nowadays“, ama:

“Caro, kilo nayo? Hurumianga weighing machine please.” Especially those litre bikes. They can kill you with snide comments like those.

But just because the handlebars turn much tighter doesn’t automatically make it a better turner. Wheelbase is the other monster in the game. It’s a taller(longer) bike, from what I could tell, so turning radius is wider (turns go a bit further). By like 10mm, I guess, or some small number. But dang it, wider is wider and it must be called out shamelessly!

Turning radius I find important, because it leads to less stress. On a scale of pure-calm-ocean comfort, to kill-me-now stress, how would you feel splitting all along Uhuru Highway in gridlock traffic with your whatever-bike?????? See your life.

Comforts of FI

Shucks, you will only hear me say this once. ****WHISPER***

Before I married the NS, on the week of the wedding, I got to discover kumbe she had a sister. An eFi-and-ABS twin. Wueh. Don’t tell her I said this, but going back, maybe I would have dated her sister. I didn’t say it though. You misheard.

Cornering

The ZMR ultimately didn’t give me confidence during turns. The Pulsar, Bill Mike of OneManSpanner(Importer of said Pulsars) says, is built for cornering, for racing and sport. Decisions on parts are made using that consideration. Hence why the seat is so damn hard! It’s not about comfort here. It’s about that sport. And so I was very happy when I got the Pulsar back, big bumbum and all. The confidence to lean, to toss the bike about during long cornering. The ZMR feels easy to flick side to side, but don’t confuse that for leaning. Something I’ve learnt.

Braking

The brakes feel better on the Pulsar. Maybe it’s this particular ZMR that has been abused too much. However, here is something you might not know. See the shape of the Pulsar’s tank? During the testing of those impressive brakes, one gets pushed forward, and the aggressive tank shape is more than willing to squeeze your family jewels and leave you childless. Keep that in mind my fellow singles. Save the future.

Engine

Hehe. Hehehe.

Hehehehehe. Haahahahahahaha!

So, there is a reason I moved from the CC(cubic capacity) camp in comparing bikes and to the specs(horsepower and torque specs). It’s much akin to comparing the beauty based on external ‘factors‘ alone, you know, the weak stuff of life, looks which fade, bums which un-bum, where as life is not lived on external factors but rather the inner composition of a human being. Compatibility, 16personalities, SWOTs etc. (Niko nje I know. This comes with dating bikes, not humans).

For the same CC, the 2014 ZMR makes more power than it’s 2013 counter part. The Pulsar NS200 and AS200 make more power overall than the ZMR. And I think it’s everywhere. The title of the post is derived from this. (The RS200, the eFI-faired variant, make more power than all of them, hence why it costs like 100-150k more than these, plus fairings are lookers, etc. It also redlines at 10k, not 9.5k.)

When compared to my Pulsar, the ZMR felt like the bike to do longer distance(THE TOURER- SPORT TOURER). A screen to boot and keep wind-blast somewhat at bay(or at bae, see what I did there? 😉 ), and all other machinations make it a good bike(The weird part of the sport part of the sport touring is that being leaned over on jacket that doesn’t extend to the neck means wind gets in there and to your chest. Lol.) But the power is linear(distributed evenly in the rpm range). Feels like one could cover serious distance like that, except for the occasional back ache I guess. It is also more planted on the road, and feels heavier, which is good for touring. Implants that confidence. It feel like that at 90+.

The Pulsar revs higher(The SuperBike Like one), at redline of 9.5 and rpm light on at 10k compared to redline of 8k on the ZMR.

And that’s what’s funny. 😂

At 8k, is when the full power of the Pulsar comes open. Infact, I have a theory. The dash on the Pulsar actually has some small marks from 8k onwards. Made wonder if those marks denote where the power comes in.

Waksi on the Red ZMR noted this on riding the Pulsar for 2 days. Kim Kibe of the Orange ZMR noted this on his test ride. Power kicks in. On the ZMR, much like coming back to the Pulsar from the Duke 390, I kept waiting for the power band during acceleration and overtakes to kick in. And waiting. And waiting, but nothing. Of course you adjust, but man (or woman).

The Pulsar engine is butter smooth. The reason I think for that and also more power is DTSI. While the ZMR uses a single plug, and Pulsar uses 3. A huge main plug and 2 secondary smaller plugs. Gives good fuel efficiency, power, and makes the engine butter smooth! Some even make it smoother by using Motul 7100 engine oil, I shall try.

Conclusion

Ultimately, the experience has helped me better decide to stop selling my Pulsar. We were honestly speaking, having a rough time, given that a few weeks before I had visited a Duke 390’s house, and decided the Pulsar doesn’t treat me right. But we shall mend the fence and just buy a second bigger bike if I ever need the extra power. (But I never tour so I don’t need one.)

I will make another review once I fix the carb issues on my bike(which may involve a carb import. That’s the part that sucks about this.)

That’s my review. Feel free to leave your thoughts below.

Of course, Team 500+cc will view/have already viewed this post as nothing more than 2 small capacity babies fighting over non-sense. They say, just buy a bigger bike. And I say, try follow me and traffic and suffer.

Possum-out!

My plain-old rotten luck with the cops

On Aug 2, 2018Jul 27, 2018 By The PossumIn Biking3 Comments

Preamble

Everyone is cheating in class, everyone! You are the good boy who isn’t dubbing. The one day you decide to try ‘consult’ the teacher comes in, catches you, and also calls into question every result you have ever had. Just that one day.

Swahili Proverb: Siku uendayo uchi ndio siku utapatana na mkwewe. (The day you walk around naked is the day you meet your in-law)

Intro

It comes as no-surprise by now that I may not have favour when it comes to law enforcement. Where as ladies tend to remove their helmet, soften their voice a tad, speak a littttu higher, and say “Askari, aki woiye nisamehe..”, all askaris seem to see in me is a nuisance. Kwanza now I have dreadlocks, kwisha mimi. But surprise-surprise! This streak of bad luck started a while ago.

It’s circa March 2016, around 4pm, and I’m headed to Shamsi Music rehearsal at Mwanga Hub on Lower Kabete Road. I join Mbagathi Way, God’s gift to lane-splitters in Nairobi 😉 (A road so wide ambulances lane split during emergencies!)

N.B; Lane-splitting/Filtering: A term used to describe a motorcycle passing in between the gap left by cars in traffic..

I ride my ZMR all the way to near Mbagathi-Kenyatta roundabout, City Mortuary. This was the time before the roundabout had been expanded and also had these fancy traffic lights. (Funny story: I was once mugged here, at 7p.m., all because I was trying to save 10 shillings. This miser has learnt his ways. Nairobi has taught this miser things. ).

ZMR 2013 version 1st Gen: Relatively underpowered compared to its newer sibling, but this chassis is made of titanium. It can take 10 accidents and still come back for more! Long live the ZMR!

5pm, around Kenyatta Roundabout

I am cozily following behind 2 motorcycles as we lane-split. As usual, we get to that one driver that just won’t ‘kaa'(sit) square, is in the middle of the road, one tyre in the next ane, and has reduced the space needed for our passing. We pass to his right, near the curb(or pavement, or end of the road, choose one), one by one, like nice littttu children going to the loo in a single orderly file, and keep approaching the round about.

Danger: 2 cops at the roundabout

They are standing to the right of the front-most car. They see us approaching as well on the right, at the edge, and one points at us wildly with his rungu(baton). Weeeh! We are about 4-5 car lengths away from the round about, where they are standing. Front brake CRRRRRR! These 2 bodas in-front of me freeze in place, and from my analysis, I can see that neither of them has a helmet on, nor a reflector. So surely that must be the reason for the pointing by the police. They must want to arrest these guys for this.

Glancing ahead yet again, eagle eye engaged: there is a private biker at the roundabout with armour on, talking to the cops, negotiating. He doesn’t have like a jacket or anything else on. Just his armour. (Well, of course he has underwear, or rather I’m guessing, and he has jeans and shoes. I just mean the doesn’t have a jacket nor a reflector.)

The negotiations are intense. The cop keeps changing the direction he faces every 2 seconds, and the biker keeps having to move into the path of vision to maintain eye contact. My keen legal eye and analysis tells me maybe he has been stopped for lack of a reflector. (Should have thought this one through better. It’s a reason, but a flimsy one at best.) The 2 bodas ahead of me cut left between cars and move to the furthest lane away.

Me, me with the fancy looking bike….. Inakaa tu pesa, well, comparatively of course. All those fairings.

Me with the self-righteousness of a million Kenyans after tithing on Sunday…..

Me-I approach said roundabout…..

Me who has just left a gazillion people in jam all along Mbagathi way. They must hate me.

I ride forward confident towards the cops. James 4:8: “Draw near to Him and He will draw near to you.” I know the Bible well. I draw near the police, 1 car away by now, and they likewise approach. One stands in my way and lifts his hand, palm forward towards me. “Simama“. I stop. Oh no. He comes over, peering over my dashboard. Oh no. He pulls my key from the ignition. (That’s when you know, you knowwww, the music is about to start. )

(See, see, thiiiiiiis is why a biker “we shall not name” used to ride keyless all the time. He even told an not so savvy cop one day that his bike does not stop until it gets to its destination, when asked him to turn off his keyless bike . That it knows the way home! 😆 :lol:. And then 2 second later, vrooooooooooooooooooom!

They never pull keys out of cars. But the moment it’s a bike, oh your rights, your rights what!)

I get off the now off bike, and we start the push and pull of Nairobi enforcement hassle.

Me: Officer, nini mbaya?

Him with my keys: Unajua kupita kati kati ya magari ni overlapping?. Kwa nini you can’t be patient like these other drivers and follow them? Eh? You must go to court tomorrow.

Me with the feigned innocence: Please, officer, I promise I won’t repeat it! (Wapi! 😛 Valley Road, the very next road, is where I intended to continue. How can a bike not split?! It’s like a fish trying to walk on land. Impossible! Man was made to serve Jah, and bikes were made to split Nairobi traffic. Might as well ride an elephant then.)

Him with my keys AND MY LICENCE(I wonder how that happened): You are going to court tomorrow. You have to.

Me acting sad: Aki officer, please, I know we can find a solution. Watu ni kuongea hii Nairobi. (People talk these things through in this city..)

(Now, I know what I’m hinting at here with this tone and language, but I never intended to bribe. My mum has this thing where she talks softly and acts all innocent to police, but at the same time will never pay the bribe. I try the same. But didn’t I forget I am a man. without beauty or charm! Aren’t I single? Haiya. Where have my looks ever got me in life. No where. Now see….)

Him with the cold shoulder: (Calling out to the breakdown in the distant) Mkenya! Peleka huyu na pikipiki Kilimani Police. Haraka. (Cold shoulder dude doesn’t even talk to me.)

The breakdown(Religious scene)

When they say that Kenya is 80% Christian, it is these fellows they must have been conversing with that led them to that conclusion. I am seated in the cramped breakdown with these 2 fellows, on either side of me. My bike is hanging ominously at the back, suspended by chains from a makeshift crane. I worry that it’ll get scratched, the huge fairing on the side in contact with the back of the truck. That fairing is Ksh. 5,500. The miser within is already calculating. Aki and Ryce East Africa might not have that part in stock yet.

Mkenya’s assistant alights and puts a mat between the 2 surfaces. They come back.

Me: Lakini sasa tunaenda wapi?

Mkenya: Tuenaenda Kilimani. Huko uandikiwe charge sheet, ulipe bail, na ulipe towing.

Me, the miser: Towing ni ngapi?

Mkenya: Ni 1500/=. Lakini unajua sio lazima ufike huko. Hii maneno tunaweza malizana hapa nikuachilie.

Me confused. How is it that I am arrested by a cop, but released by a tower?

Me, the believer: Apana, mimi sina kama hizo. Bibilia imekataa hiyo.

Them, laughing hysterically! AAHAHAHAHAHAHHA! Ati bibilia imekataa! Wacha hizo wewe! Imekataa nini?

Me: Hii maneno ya kuhongana na kutofuata haki!

Bible-thumper Mkenya, cleeeeeeaaaaarly the leader of his Bible study at home: Hata Yesu alisema, ukiwa na kesi na mtu, malizaneni na yeye kabla mfike kortini. Unajua hata yeye anajua vile hii maneno inafanyangwa.

As we pass an exit, we see that the truck with the biker I found at the roundabout has stopped in an alley and they are releasing his bike. Clearly an agreement was reached.

Mkenya: Sasa umesemaje?

Humble Me: Mimi ningeomba mniachilie tu.

Mkenya: Haaa, na sisi hapo hatuwezi. Lakini mbona uende upoteze bail, halafu uende korti ulipishwe hizi vitu zote na ka-elfu hapa katamaliza hii maneno?

Me I’ve seen suffering in life as a result of bad decisions, as a result of shortcuts. You bribe your way to a situation, the only thing you get as a result are just curses upon curses. Your friends are blessed, you are cursed till you are left wondering, ala, where did I make a wrong step. I was ready to suffer the longer route. Once bitten my friend…..

We get to station, I pay them their 1.5k, with a receipt, of which they try get more out of me, saying it was 2k. Mschew. Nonsense. Naaansense.

On the charge sheet, the duty sergeant who writes these things in the OB calls up the officer at the roundabout, asking what the charges are. The officer on the other end is shocked that I actually preferred to go to the station. (hehehe, must be how it feels, when you’ve vybed a girl, and she is smiling at you and all, and for a few weeks you are convinced all is well, and all your boys are huku telling you she likes you, that you are the one slacking, then when you pop the question you get your hefty NO! Hehehe…. Not that I would know… Hehehe….)

Failing to stop when stopped by an officer
Dangerous overtaking

I was able to reason with the duty sergeant that I could not possible that I failed to stop yet I was here. If I failed to stop, I would be long gone.

Summary

Anyway, I paid and that was that. On whatsapp, people be asking me if it was my bike they saw being towed. They note that my suffering is great.

Later, we’ll talk about how court goes down.

5 things that can finish you as a biker in Nairobi!

On Jul 12, 2018Jul 12, 2018 By The PossumIn Biking2 Comments

Clickbait title much? Lol.

For those who have ridden long enough, and that is as long a time as it takes for you to get this into your head, there are inherent risks in riding. Rightfully so, it is majority the steps you take, 95%, then that 5% becomes the rotten luck that you got that day. Even in that 5, it becomes the steps you taked. Anyway, accept there is a possibility that “katanuka” siku moja. Here are some ways you can find yourself hurt.

1. Road rules for who? The illegal turner

This falls in the 95% you should be able to avoid. The Book of Motorcyclist, Chapter 2 Verse 1:

“My dear newbies, I don’t desire that you become, as it were, un-weary of the devil’s schemes. For he has an app that he has placed to monitor you, oh my young foolish biker child, that he may receive notifications in a timely manner of when you think of something foolish to try on the road. Be watchful and wise my child, in these perilous times.”

Turns out the Motorcycle Bible is a real thing. Go figure…

Say, hypothetically, for example that one time, around 2016, you KNOW, KNOW, that you should not filter more than 20-30 kph compared to traffic, even on the eternally wide road known as Mbagathi Way, but that wheely-loving super-speeding little devil on your shoulder, just above the shoulder protectors, whispers through your cheap beginner helmet, no, just this one time, just let it all rip out. Twist that throttle. Max wrist! Speed your heart out. Nooooothing will happen. What are the chances?

Mbagathi way – Widest lane splitter in Africa!

And so, you speed it all out, and as you get to Armed Forces Memorial Hospital, just before Highrise, downslope, you see some cars seem to have stopped for no reason. The road after the stop is clear, no police or anything. Your angel on the opposite shoulder tells you to stop, but that damned wheely devil is at it again. “No, my child, nothing will happen. Just believe, and let it rip!” And so you keep going.

At 70kph. Adrenaline rushing through you like drugs! Wooohooo! Wind through the visor! Engine revving wildly beneath you! Wooooohoooooo! The stuff of legen…….. BAAAAAAAAMMMMMM!

Moments before getting to the first car in the new traffic jam, while at 70kph, you see a matatu making an illegal u-turn. Hence why all the cars had stopped. You lock that rear tyre, hit that front brake. But end up ramming and mounting the side of that matatu.

(This is all hypothetical. It may or may not have happened. I’m not saying that it did, but if it did, my conclusion would be that the ZMR is one heck of a bike! Not that I have any proof or anything…)

2. Cold, the undetectable attacker

Medicine is so advanced nowadays. But it’s also like magic. They are able to do such cool things, but some things seem to evade perennially. The likes of cancers and HIV. If we come back 200 years from now, will these still be an issue?

There is a strange disease that grips a motorcyclist. It has gone by many names, and depends on who you talk to. Stuff of legends really. But here they just say, “The Cold entered him. Baridi ilimwingia!”

It is no small matter that you see a boda boda fellow, in the heat of day, 25 degree plus weather, donned in a sweater underneath, a jacket, a scarf, and a whole blanket round his neck, and something else on his lower face, keeping himself out of the cold. He is being vigilant. The cold has taken down giants greater than him.

A man once described to me this phenomenon, for I had once imagined it gripped me. He said, “There are times in the year it comes. The first time it came it was very severe! You feel cold. And pain in the chest. An overwhelming stabbing pain. And slowly it overcomes you, till you cannot move. I lay in bed for a few days, completely unable to move. My body parts were frozen, unable to move. Then it went after. I went to hospital and they couldn’t find anything. And every so often it comes back.”

I too had my own share of the abive. I had a pain that would come and go. I even asked biker docs about it. Had tests done, MRI and such, but nothing was seen. My doctor concluded it to be muscle-related things around the chest. (I recently went to see him on a heartburn related matter. He followed up. I said it still comes rarely, a small light pain. He said it confirms the muscle theory.)

Be wary. This is your first and last warning. It comes and is like the permanent sin that never leaves.

3. Passenger alighting in traffic

Self explanatory isn’t it. Now, an experienced conductor on a bus, familiar with the route, and who has the slightest concern for the passengers, especially the beautiful ladies I’ve noticed, cranes his neck out into traffic before letting a passenger alight to scan the surroundings.

In case he doesn’t, someone is about to have a bike run up his foot, or his knee in a situation. And depending on that situation as well, a car is about to be scratched and/or dented.

Cue police. “What are you doing lane-splitting? Isn’t it illegal in Kenya? Nyangau hii “(Post on this coming. Si I have faced it all in this country of ours! 😂😂😂)

Cue police to tow-truck: Beba huyu!

Cue car owner: Insurance ama utanilipa?

Cue abiria, complaining from the comfort of their seats: Lazima ulipe apelekwa hospitali. Aki gowsh. Woishe, Ona vile umefanya bwana/bibi ya wenyewe.

Cue fellow bodas: Apana, mtu hutoroka.

Just slow down near cars and anticipate.

P.S. In my previous post, my friend actually landed in hospital with a broken leg thanks to a heavy BMW door and a passenger in traffic. After more than 3 years riding experience under his belt. Kwani who are you for it to not happen to you?

4. The squeeze – Lemon to lemonade manenos

Inline with the it has happened to me theme, there’s a huge reason one thing I look at is the width of a motorcycle when considering upgrade bikes. On that note, ADV bikes are really wide. Generally, rule of thumb is the CBXXX are very thin, and so are Ninjas. Not the supersport ones, the sport touring ones.

I once got stuck between two trucks in traffic. Lane splitting. 😂😂 I had seen the space was enough. It was a truck and a lorry. Then Niko tu in the middle with my haraka haraka then traffic starts moving. Hooooooottttttttiiiiiing! My top box was what was caught. In the end, after a few reversals, and manoeuvres from the drivers, and a lot of Kenyan I can solve this traffic situation, we enda hivi, wewe enda hivi, we were able to have it solved.

5. Rongai Matatus

This one has even killed some I think.

If you see this, do not lane splitting when they are moving. Don’t even respect the minimum lane splitting speed rule. Keep away. These guys will brake harder than a driving school learner. They will change lanes in an instant and sweep you and your fikifiki into next year, awaiting collecting. They brake last minute, and if you are the bike ahead, no, just don’t be in that situation for the day brakes fail. You shall be the sandwich between the bus and the car.

Summary

Those are my 5 things. Watch out for part 2! We kick it up a notch!

I cheated on her, now it may be over

On Jul 1, 2018Jul 1, 2018 By The PossumIn Biking7 Comments

Disclaimer : this post is not about a human relationship. For that, please consult your daily sectional in the newspaper or tune in to the local trashy talk on morning shows between 7 and 10am. Clickbait much? 😆

Intro

I have a friend 😀 . Well, I have many, but I have one(Mr. M*) who 2 weeks ago, had a nasty accident while lane splitting that left his right leg broken but his bike intact and running. 2 to 3 weeks prior to this, I had been talking to him about maybe one day switching bikes for like a day or two just to experience power. He rides a Duke 390, the older version, not the new 2017 version.

2014 Duke 390. Maad torque! You guy my guy!

I have another friend 😀 . Well, I have many other friends, but I have one who has been my Pulsar buddy, then I recently met her in traffic. She lives awfully close, but on a certain day last week, I saw her familiar helmet, then the familiar KTM orange on the bike she was riding. A duke 390, the 2017 version to boot! In the coming days, I felt “nyongi”. Even me I want to upgrade. 😥

The Exchange

So in the midst of all this, on Monday, Mr. M calls me from hospital.

Mr. M: “George! How are you man?…………Are you free?……………………I need you to run an errand for me near Athi, to my house. Drop some keys for me………….It’s urgent……………You can switch bikes and take my Duke for the week once you are there………”

MOST. WORTH. IT. ERRAND. EVER! 😀 . I was besides myself with joy. Monday is work day, but an hour can be set aside for this. Off to Nairobi Hospital, off to his place, and I pick the bike.

Initial impressions on picking the Duke 390.

This engine is so harsh, not Pulsar smooth…………..The exhaust is loud, I like my quiet Pulsar……………….This bike is so light, just like my Pulsar, but double the capacity. ………………This clutch is much heavier. I have to get to the gym……………………..The seat height is actually better than the Pulsar, because of a thinner seat. Wauuuuuu!

I get to the main road and pull the throttle. Dear Lord! That bike almost sped off of it’s own volition! The torque! Nothing to joke about! I’m off, heading home, with a boss attitude. And the bike isn’t even mine but look at me! Overtaking is but a thought!

giphy — Me Pulling the throttle the frist time

For the rest of the week, POWER is my friend, I overtake. 0-100 in 6 seconds is not a joke! At some point, heading home from rehearsal, I am on the bypass and some Fazer 600 fellow and I have a short quick run between Ngong Road and Langata road. To be able to follow someone and have a bike actually still have a lot of pull left at 130kph. Waaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuuuuu! 😯

The bike doesn’t sit to well at 150kph without a screen. Too much wind blast. Best use it for fast acceleration(kuenda kama umeendanga), not speed runs. It is not an born tourer. Found it sitting well at 110kph. The Pulsar and ZMR do well at 92kph. It is also a commuter, but not during grid lock hours. It does emit some heat, and that radiator is always on. But the turning radius is to die for. It has ABS!!!

Caught by bae cheating

You have to understand that before this week, the Pulsar had been the only bae in my life! I had a ZMR before, but that felt like a very bad relationship with the wrong chic. Too heavy, 126 top speed compared to 140 on the Pulsar. 18hp compared to 24 on the Pulsar. No analog tachometer. ZMR was good while it lasted, but Pulsar was that pretty girl that you marry.

I personally feel the rank of bikes under 250cc is the Duke 200, the Pulsar RS200, then the NS200 and AS200 tied at third, then whatever other bikes can come and make a file after that, for all we care!

Today, a Sunday, I return the Duke 390, and pick my Pulsar. As I ride, and prepare to take off first, I tuck forwards in preparation for the torque to kick in as I am now accustomed to on the Duke. …..

…..

Nothing. This bike engine is so smooth, but … nothing. Just nothing. It does nothing. I feel my heart break. A tear forms in my eye. How could bae and I be in such a spot!

giphy1 — My reaction to the NS200 compared to the Duke390

This bike isn’t as powerful. Heck, it’s only half as powerful. Even when the power kicks in fully at 8k rpm, it’s hardly noticeable. It’s all just MEEEH. The Duke has taken me to the sky and left me high and dryyyyy!

I notice on the Pulsar: It is taller seating, just a bit……………It is sportier seating. The duke was the ultimate in upright seating…………….The head is closer though, funny enough.

For the rest of the ride back, I don’t even attempt to overtake anymore. 😦 😦 I just ride. I don’t attempt to overrev, or go past 100. 😦 The bike feels okay at 90, and that’s okay with me. No need to struggle over coins. If I want true power, I need a different bike. Period. Now I understand what a commuter is.

I should have never ridden the duke. I should have remained oblivious to the joys that exist out there with horsepower and torque increase. I should have continued in my most upheld belief that the Pulsar was made somewhere next to heaven.

But now I’ve had a very fierce fling, and that has sucked the life out of my Pulsar experience back.

Buuttttt….. Conclusion

Time is a healer. It took a week with the duke. I’ll give it 2 weeks with the Pulsar. I’m sure I’ll get back to loving it, that smoothness, that quietness.

The bars are thinner. Easier lane splitting………..It may not be powerful, but that bike looks like bae! It is newer after all………………………….And it has that metallic tail section that allows me to secure bags with my cargo net to it.

I’ll fall in love with it again. At least I hope so otherwise, OLX!

P.S

Dear beginner, don’t fall into the trap of imagining cc(Cubic Capacity/Engine size) equals power. The duke 390 with a 370cc engine is about the same power and a KLR 650, a 650cc engine.

Always check the horsepower and torque specs, and remember, a true test is an actual ride, not one done on keyboards.

Bike wishlist

Triumph Street triple
Ninja 650
Ninja 400
Duke 390

Give a Kenyan an inch and he’ll take a mile; Kanjo vs Bodas

On Jun 18, 2018Jun 19, 2018 By The PossumIn BikingLeave a comment

Intro

(Top of the song. Drummer gives the 4- stick count)

It takes a lot to be an African, to be a Kenyan. In the same breath, it takes a lot to be an Arsenal fan (Arsenal fans theoretically should make the best husbands(or wives), I mean, to persevere all that loss! True faithfulness and endurance! 😀). God help you if you are both!

In my last post, I highlighted the conditions that I had been given by the Deputy Director County Police(aptly called, “The Madam”) regarding coming into the city with a motorcycle. Well, true to form, wananchi(citizens, Swahili) on both sides of the law have been trying to find out exactly how far they can colour outside the lines. Some are even colouring outside the lines with colourless ink, creative minds that they are.

These new boda boda rules are being pusssshhhhheeeeeeeeed!

Saturday 16th June, Events occur between 9am-1pm

(Song is in full swing. Crowd is dancing wild!)

Because Shamsi Music stands for good education for all students(even me-I stand), we were having a rehearsal on said day for our guitarist Mohol to catch up with what we’ve been up to during the week, preparing for Afrosynthesis.

So I head to town, via Nyerere Road and park near St. Andrews, outside what we consider the confines of the CBD. Like the beast of burden I have to become courtesy of the government and the new regulations(a mule, I am now a mule!), I put my very-very-very heavy bag of things on my back and walk to rehearsal within CBD. (I am a short man, only 5ft2.55″ or something, so everything is 10x worse for me. Dating, riding bikes, shucks….)

However, on the way, I see a boda-boda(taxi motorcycle) fellow having parked in the CBD. He has a small black box metallic the size of a pizza box attached to the back of his bike. 😀

IMG_20180619_161854 — Update: 3 days later, he is still here

Sweaty short me, unfit for carrying things: Haiya, uko hapa? Hukufukuzwa? Na haka kakitu hawatakushika?(pointing to box) (Weren’t you chased out the other day? Is this small thing sufficient for them to not arrest you? )

Clearly this one has never been arrested. Those how have swear by their ancestors that they slhall not even look, loooooook in the direction the CBD.

c16c14bc46c8955d3de36cb8696a7621 — You asking a boda to just drop you at the very edge of the CBD! 😀

Smarty-pants Rider: Walisema box, ndio hii. Hawakusema size. Naomba tusisumbuane nao priss!(They asked for a box, here it is. They didn’t specify a size. I pray we shall not disturb each other.)

(He didn’t say priss. I’m trying to be funny. Sorry basi. 😦 )

Me, catching breath: Naomba wasikushike. (I pray they don’t get you.)

Prayerful him: Na hii ni poa, kwa sababu iko na screws tu mbili. Natoa nabeba tukienda. (It is only secured by 2 screws. I remove those, and i can carry a passenger.)

I hope he is still there, earning his daily bread. I am not too hopeful though.

I continue to rehearsal. By the time I get there, my ‘mwananchi’(ordinary citizen) shoulder is in pain from the heavy load. The government will not care for this mwananchi when I break my shoulder or my back carrying the heavy equipment. This is what it means to be a Kenyan. We are just pushing life.

On the way back, this sweaty beast of burden reads on Facebook about another private motorcycle that was attacked on Uhuru Highway and nearly hit with a rungu(club) on his helmet by an askari (Uhuru Highway- a major highway that also defines one border of the CBD, at least that’s what the average Nairobian would conclude, but there is nothing average about a hungry Kenyan enforcing the law. A mheshimiwa’s car was also hit by said askari).

I’m livid. I’m talking to myself in low tones as I walk around (and people give me stares. It’s not a normal thing? No? Okay), thinking all manner of thoughts that I should be repenting for. I would have bit that askari, hata through my helmet! Logic be damned. I have a right to be angry and angry I will!

I get to the roundabout of Uhuru Highway and University Way, parking is just 100-200 metres away. I see a bunch of boda-boda fellows just outside St. Andrew’s Church wall talking animatedly and angrily. I approach these my fellow wananchi(citizens) to listen to the conversation with keen interest, listening from afar as I inch closer every few seconds. The most animated fellow doesn’t seem to have his bike.

N.B : Most mwananchi complaints to peers start with the words: Ubaya wenu….(the things that’s wrong with you people…)

The bikeless one: Tungewaweza! Ubaya wenu ni kuogopa na kuhepa! Walikuwa tu wawili jo! (We should have been able to take them on! Why did you guys run away? There was only two of them!)

One with a bike: Walisema tusiingie CBD. Hapa si CBD! (These guys said that we should not be in the CBD! this is not the CBD!

Me, round 2 sweating and angry: Kumeendaje kwani? (What happened?)

Nearest one: Kanjo wengine plain-clothes wameona town kumekauka mabodaboda, wakakuja kushikana pale karibu na Serena. (Some plain-clothes county askaris had decided that since town had become too abondoned by boda bodas, they would venture farther than uhuru highway and came to arrest people near Serena.)

Me: Aki hiyo si poa. (That’s not fair)

Nearest one again: Walai wameamua tutakuwa wezi sasa. (I swear they have decided that we shall becomes thieves.)

The nearest one continues narration: Jana, nilicome hapa rounda, nikapata rider ameketi kwa boda amepark na amevaa kila kitu. Nikamuuliza, :Area iko aje”? Akasema kuko poa, tusiende tu huko chini CBD. Nikiangalia mbele ninaona boda mwingine pale kwa curb, amesimama, anaangalia chini, haniaangalii. (I came to the roundabout yesterday, found a boda boda parked with all his gear on. I asked him, How does the area look? He said it’s fine, to just not go down towards CBD. I looked ahead and saw another boda boda parked near the curb, looking down, never making eye contact with me.)

Haya, boda mwingine akacome akasimama next to me. Akauliza, kuko aje. Huyu rider akamshow kuko poa. (Another boda boda came and stopped next to me. Asked the same things I had asked.)

Kidogo kidogo, naona kanjo anahepa from the other side akikam hivi. Mara huyu rider mwingine tulipata hapa kumbe ni karao! Ameanza kutoa pingu! Nikatoka mbio yote na bike. Huyu next to me, hakubahatika. (Momentarily, I see a county officer running from the other side towards us. The rider we had found here nexto me was actually a cop! And he was removing his cuffs! I sped off! The boda boda next to me was not lucky enough. )

So this is the new game. They are disguising themselves as boda boda fellows.

It has now become a true game of who can eat there’s no peace.

This is how you turn people into thieves.

I wonder when all this will end this is my kenya wakanda forever.

Outro: Song is over. There is still goodness in Kenya, in Africa

N.B #2: As a biker, pride is not a good thing. I have a love for most boda boda fellows. These folks will rescue you when you fall, give you all manner of advice, and take care of you. Warn you about cops. (Also, a few will shout at you for filtering slowly through traffic, or not cutting through a tight spot, but hey, …)

In the evening, I head back to town for a gig near the very same spot. A fully-loaded boda boda with about 4-6 crates of bread, 3-5 sacks hanging on the sides, comes along university way, minding it’s own hustle. If you know anything about riding loaded bikes, calculation is everything. Stop improperly and it’s all over.

A cager (car driver) comes and stops abruptly in the middle of the junction, in the path of the boda boda. He is forced to break awkwardly. And we all watch the horror unfold in slow motion. He tries to bear the weight on his one foot, tries to keep it upright, but alas, no. It’s down.

We, riders of good heart, just park our bikes near the curb, and go help him lift the bike up.

I was helping, kazi si selfie na picha tu!

If they want to arrest us at this moment, as we help our fellow mwananchi earn a living, let them! Judgement and hell awaits.

I head off towards the show. Onwards! This world is not our home clearly! Ni kupitia tu. Stage ni mbele!

Biker Hell: At the hands of the Nairobi Kanjo!!

On Jun 14, 2018Jun 15, 2018 By The PossumIn Biking21 Comments

Introduction

(Kanjo – How some Kenyans from a certain community say council. Adopted by all Nairobian youth at this point.)

I have to say that I am a man of many firsts. I am a Kenyan, by birth. The following occurs in Nairobi-Kenya, and it’s environs.

I am amongst the first to have an accident on a motorcycle having dozed off at the bars! (A story for another day 😂😂. Apparently, the other guy who had such was justified since he had ridden to SA and was dead-tired at the bars.)

I am the first to experience what a cell feels like courtesy of police who I did not let tow my bike away.(Turns out, when they want to tow your bike, you have a choice on whether you let them tow it, and incur Ksh. 1500 to 2000 towing charges, or not play ball, and they can drag it out and make you suffer. Choose wisely. I have stories I tell you!)

I am an almost first to be arrested for lane splitting(which we then found out was illegal and that some cops love to enforce it. Yet another story for another day, and what happened in court. Don’t be scared of traffic court. It’s an interesting place.)

I only know of one other motorcyclists who was arrested by the county askaris. He paid a Ksh. 7000 fine 2 days before this. This is my story.

The following occurs between 8 am on the 13th and 5:10 pm on the 14th.

On Wednesday, I head to the CBD, park my bike on Kimathi Lane and proceed to a “Shamsi Music” rehearsal at 8 a.m. During the rehearsal, our drummer Kenn came in and told me the did not see my bike parked downstairs. He had pulled my leg with this joke before but so I did not believe him. (Additionally, I had just two weeks before paid seasonal parking for motorcycles, a fee ofKsh. 3000/-= for 3 months. I mean, after that, I am at peace. Mi Siteketei!) However as we concluded rehearsal at 11 am, the bassist, Munene, walks down with me to see where it is that I had parked my bike because he also notes he had not seen it.

When we arrive downstairs, as we walk on the street, I tell him, “Here, it is parked just behind this c……” and lo and behold! When we got behind the car, it was not there. I asked some guards nearby, “Mmecheki bike nilikuwa nimeseti hapa hivi? (Have you seen a black bike that was parked here?)” They told me that they saw a county lorry come and have some guys put the motorcycle on top.

I take a relative on an errand on Tom Moya street and then proceed to their yard, general stores, near wakulima market, near bus station. I get to the gate and I find this crowd of motorcycle riders. Naturally, feeling different, I try go through the crowd and get into the gate. I was immediately pushed back by the plain clothes mkubwa at the gate(these ninjas apparently call each other senior in here! 😂😂 Ati, wee senior, kuja hapa.), “Kaa nje, kwani wewe ni nani?!(Stay outside! Who do you think you are?)” He locks the door and goes far away. In short, at the end, I was not able to ascertain whether my motorcycle was there.

Bike parked at County General Stores. How can’t they tell this is different! Mssssssssscheeeeeeeeeeeew!

I hear from some riders outside the gate that you need to go to city hall annex, 7th floor, City Inspectorate Department, where you can receive clearance and with that you can come back to the yard, get a total for what is due, go pay at the bank and have a bike released.

We head to city hall. On the way, I contact a Motorcycle Kenya rep(MK, an umbrella body for private motorcyclists in Kenya)(Chwa) because I am a paid-up member. He informs me that they had actually started talks with Mr. Mbaya who is in charge of the whole operation just that morning. (P.S. It’s always Chwa when I’m facing all these issues I keep facing! 😂😂 My fam even knows of him at this point!)

When I get to the Annex, I’m told that Mr Mbaya was there in the morning and will be coming back in the afternoon. (We were only told the fine print of he’s not coming for the rest of the day after about an hour and a half of waiting, that he’s in some engagement with the governor, and his deputy as well. This Kenya of ours……. GGRRRRRRRRR)

I head home because I have a gig that evening with Shamsi Music, knowing that my distant bae bike has accrued a Ksh. 1,000 charge for overnight spending. (It additionally incurs a towing charge of Ksh. 2,000, whether you pushed it by hand yourself to the yard across town, or they pushed it themselves, or it was on a lorry. It is Ksh. 2,000 come hell or high water!)

Come the next morning, I am unable to wake up from bed because I had slept really late the previous night. I get to city hall at around 10. I am told that the ‘madam‘(who everyone is waiting to see, deputy to the aforementioned Mr. Mbaya) has not even arrived and some people had been waiting since 8 a.m.(Not only that, some had been waiting all week, coming here everyday, almost all day, in what is a series of hits and misses. You step out for a few minutes, and hear that she came and left. Wueeeeh! And each day your motorcycle accrues yard costs.) We wait for one and a half hours during which I keep putting pressure on the secretary to call her and find out what time she’s arriving. This whole time I’ve been keeping in constant communication with the MK rep and keeping them informed and trying different things: getting different numbers , trying to call different people. In fact, at some point, some big shot walked into the office, found out that the boss(at the inspectorate) has not arrived, immediately called him and was given a different office to go to and have his issue handled. I wonder, “Why the heck didn’t we try this?”

Anyway, come 11:30am, I decided to leave, having left my phone number with one of the others riders there with instructions to call me if the ‘madam’ arrives. I decide to use the time to go and confirm that my motorcycle was indeed at the general stores. Barely have I left than I get a call. “We have been told to go to country bus area and report to a police station there. We are being told that the officer(Koroso) who will handle our case is on that side and he is in charge of releasing all the motorcycles.” So we headed in that direction. As we go and walk at the fastest pace man has ever seen(man’s not weak), we discuss amongst ourselves, and someone reasons that

we might be going on a wild goose chase,
that perhaps the madam has arrived, but seeing as to how you are 50 something people outside her office was trying to find a strategy to keep us away. (This was later confirmed to be true by the way. She didn’t want to walk in to some 50 something potential bodaboda(taxi motorcycle) riders, since they had just turned violent the day before in anger and protest for being banned in the CBD).

So we walk for 20 minutes and arrive at the country bus police station, only to be told that there is no such officer as Koroso here, that he has left and that we should probably go try at the general stores. So we leave and head to the general stores. Only when we get to the general stores, we are told that the officer without we’re looking for is no longer at the general stores but has gone to the central police station. At this point, most of the motorcyclist are afraid to head to central police, claiming that they would be arrested, to which I ask, “Why would you be arrested? What have you done wrong?” But most were afraid. Once bitten, or arrested, twice shy(or a million times shy).

So at this point, I brave it alone and go to central police. When I get to central police, I asked for the Koroso officer, I am told that he is not police, he is county inspectorate and he only arrives in the morning to give instructions to his officers in the inspectorate before he heads to city hall. So I start heading back to city hall. All this while, I have been in contact with Chwa, informing him and he has been trying different people but we keep going round(One officer directs us to the other, who directs us finally back to the original).

At some point, as I just arrive at City Hall Annex, Chwa is able to get through to the officer(Koroso) that has been eluding us. Long story short, the officer now claims that he does not have the authority to release those motorcycles and that it is indeed the ‘madam’ above him (who had sent us on a wild goose chase to him, across town) who can only give those instructions for release. But luckily, as I am about to enter city-hall annex, I meet a fellow motorcyclist leaving who says that his motorcycle has been released and that the ‘madam’ that we have been waiting for has arrived, and has been releasing bikes.

I get upstairs and I find many motorcyclists outside. (Turns out that these were PSV motorcycles and were not being handled today but on Monday. Given the holiday, Monday is Ksh. 4,000 away.). I get in and get to see the madam after like 20 minutes. Explain to her that I’m part of MK, what MK is, and my ordeal. She then states that she understands, but that as law enforcement officers, they have no way of telling the difference between a private motorcycle and PSV motorcycle.

I present her with a copy of my log book, duly in my name, and she says that even boda boda(taxi motorcycles that ferry 1 passenger(at least it’s supposed to be 1 legally, but hey, TIA!) riders still have their bikes in their names, so that is not a differentiator. (Of interest at this point is to know that I am a musician and a software developer as well. I am self-employed in both these fields in the sense that I cannot produce an employment authority letter, which is exactly what she was asking for at this point). What letter did I have to prove that I am a musician? I could not show this at all. This was a huge problem. She keeps asking me, “Sasa wewe tutakusaidiaje?(Now, how shall we assist you?) I need a some document to show what you do.” So after all that, she sends me to get my logbook photocopied.

I do that, get back, and there’s another lady in the office who seems to spend 30 minutes having whatever situation resolved. After that, I was able to get in to see her but the question still proceeded. “How can I tell that you are a private biker and not a boda boda?” At some point in the conversation, I was at my wits end as to how to explain to her that I am not a boda boda. I even thought of pulling my KRA tax documents to show my registration details.

Finally, she agrees to have my motorcycle released.

She releases me with a letter that indicates she has given me a warning to not ride in the CBD unless certain conditions are met. And here comes the crux of the issue guys. If you wish to ride within the CBD:

Your bike must be a bike that is severely differentiated from a boda boda, therefore a super bike, a huge adventure bike, or a cruiser. If there is even a hint of suspicion that your bike may resemble a boda boda, you are in trouble. Do not attempt to enter the CBD. Or do so at your own risk.
You must have a courier box attached to your motorcycle for the alternative.
Currently, no third option exists period. Just park on the outside of the CBD and walk in, parking fee or none.

But because the mercies of God are new every morning, even on one such as myself, she wrote a letter indicating that my motorcycle will be released unconditionally(which, dear bikers, in this case means that I would not be paying a single shilling.)

I headed to the stores where we all waited to see one Mr. Kilonzo, who was at the time handling a large number of motorcyclists filed outside his office, and was only singing one song: “I have a firm instructions from the ‘madam’ to not clear anyone except by her direction”. Lucky for me, I had the said instructions(Quite selfish, huh?). He wrote a small note at the bottom of her letter in red indicating that the rest of his subordinates follow the instructions as had been written in the letter. I had to go and print all the documentation the madam had required in triplicate and bring it back. I had to form a queue to have it cleared.

After about 2 hours I was able to leave with my motorcycle. At 5:10 pm. Location: Country General Stores, near Bus Station.

Outro(Music lingua: Exiting the song….)

But because Kenyans will be Kenyans, and Kenyans are hungry lot, the moment you leave the general stores, wouldn’t you know it! They are police officers out there who are in the game of stopping motorcycles that have just been cleared, demanding to see documentation of all manner when you say you have come from the general stores.

Him with the gun: “Unatoka wapi wewe?(Where are you coming from?)”

Me with the Pulsar NS200: “General Stores“.

Him with the even larger gun as he takes my key from the ignition: “Wapi makaratas ya clearance? (Where is your clearance document?)”

After inspecting the document for a bit, and handing back the docs and keys,

The one with the largest gun in the world: “Ninafunga ma’j’o, and the momen’d’ ninafungua, usikuwe hapa! Fly like the wind, umes’g’ia? (I’m closing my eyes, and the moment I open them, you shouldn’t be here! Fly like the wind!)”

Me: “Hiyo si ni overspeeding? (Isn’t that overspeeding?)”

Him with a sizeable gun: “Mimi apana i’g’o taka jua! Haiya, bado uko hapa?! (I don’t want to know! Oh, You are still here?)”

Damages

No bribes were made during the making of this film!
There is a scratch and dent on my fuel tank.
I also noted after arriving home that there is a huge piece of fairing which seems to have broken off near the seat, exposing my fuses to the elements, as well as other components. Who can claim for these? Do I claim insurance?

In just a few hours, a motorcycle left at the general stores gathers a huge amount of dust, as if it has just gone through a sandstorm. I had to have the bike washed to the moment I got home.
Left crash protector is cracked and is almost falling off.
(Mind you this is a “NEW” Pulsar NS200, 10,000 km on Odometer, purchased Sept 2017. Now look at what they’ve done. I have to import this fairing from India. Sigh. Halafu in comes customs looking at me funny.)