CHAPTER 38
COPPERS #2
LATE 70`s
( Photo 1 ) . An old photo of my Yamaha RD 350, great fun bike to ride.
The Welsh valley that I grew up in, is a very small valley with no accesses for normal road going vehicles at the north end.
There is an exit at the very top end of the valley, and if you have a 4×4 you could use the mountain road that runs over the top of the mounting to nowhere in particular, the road is mainly used for forestry workers, if you could get past the locked gates you will see some great views of the valley looking down from to top of Carn mountain, if you are lucky on a clear day you can see the Bristol Channel, it is difficult to gain access through the gates unless of course you are on a motorcycle which, allows you to access all areas.
The gates are locked because it is just a rough gravel track that is wide enough for a Land Rover jeep, it winds its way up and around the Carn mountain, and all the hillside around the valley, the track is covered with trees that were planted to be used as pit props in the collieries many years ago when there was a mining industry in the valley.
When the trees became mature enough to be used to hold the weight of the tonnes of earth that was above the heads of the miners, they were cut down and new trees planted to replace them, before the mines came the only trees in the valley were found alone the rivers that flowed down the narrow valley and these trees were mainly welsh oak and elm and other indigenous trees.
Scattered amongst these trees planted by the miners are old mine levels which in some cases are hundreds of years old, at the very top of the mountain, where there are no trees just a barren landscape of grass that the wild ponies and sheep thrive on during the summer months.
You may notice if you look very carefully many small Tump’s ( small mounds ) on the surface, only rising a few feet above the surface of the surrounding grass land, these low Tump’s are the remains of burial mounds of people that were buried here around 4500 years ago.
FORTUNE
Because there is only one road into the valley coming from the south, the Bridgend / llangeinor direction this road is always well monitored by the local police.
So being on a bike there was always a possibility of getting pulled over for some random bullshit check even if they had pulled you in numerous times before.
Knowing the valley roads so well I knew nearly all the place’s that the police would use to park up out of sight.
So at these spots on the road, I would cut my speed and coast passed until I was sure that there was no plod hiding behind a bush waiting to jump out on a unsuspecting motorist.
As you travel halfway up the valley.
The main open area as you pass through the valley on your way to Blaengarw is an area that is called Pontycymmer Square, there is one road that spurs off at this point on the square, you cross the black metal bridge on the square, and this road runs back down the valley running parallel with the main road that you just come up, this other road runs down toward llangeinor passing the village brachi-y-cymmer on the way and then crosses back over to the main road at what is called the black bridge in the tiny hamlet of tyla-gwyn.
From there once again you are back on the main road to the street village of llangeinor.
And this is where this story begins.
I was riding down the valley like I have done a 1000 times before in the past on my red RD 350 Yamaha, ( see photo 1 ).
This was the late 70s.
I must have been around 19 or 20 years old.
I will admit I did ride to fast for these type of roads, but back then to be honest, I didn’t give a shit what the speed limit was or how people think, or how I should act in any aspect of my life, I’m older now and a lot slower, but I still don’t give a shit what people think.
You only have one life guys.
don’t live in someone’s else’s idea of how you should live yours, it’s not a rehearsal, you are living it, not them.
Just a word of advice, take it or leave it, your choic
( Photo 2 ) . ( The new road ) LLangeinor, on the left side of the road at the front of the photo, is where the two coppers pulled me in.
All the roads down the valley have 30 MPH speed limits, my average speed was around 70 – 80 MPH, so just a normal ride down the valley for me, as there were no speed cameras back then, the only thing that slowed me down was the weather conditions and traffic which was always light, but I was always aware of coppers lurking somewhere.
But, yes I did ride to fast for the roads, on reflection I must have been lacking a lot of common sense back then, but, if I did see children playing ball in the street, I was always aware of these kind of dangers to myself and everyone else around me, and adjusted my riding accordingly, but generally it was full throttle everywhere.
So, I rode thorough the street village of Llangeinor at 90 mph, and yes it was a 30 mph speed limit so before you start tutting, the weather was dry, it was a little on the cold side as this happened in November, and there was hardly any traffic and no vehicles parked on the road that runs through the village, and all house are around 50 foot away from the main road.
The road is open and flat with only four junctions on the complete length of the road and they are all on the left side, and they can be seen from a good distance away, so any vehicles waiting to pull out on the main road were easily seen well before you would get near them.
On the right side of the road there was an overgrown hedge that over hanged the single pavement, and on the other side of the hedge there were no houses just a long drop to the Garw river at the bottom of the valley.
90 mph does seem a little bit excessive as I wasn’t really going anywhere in a rush, but like I say just a normal day.
So I rode through the village and then entered a unpopulated part of the road called locally ( the new road ) which was built in 1936 which is new compared to everything around the area, this road up’s the speed limit to 70 mph, which is the speed it should not be ridden at, as it is a bit twisty and uneven with pots holes and with the possibility of having rogue suicidal sheep wander around on it, it is fenced off, but the little buggers find a way to get over or around these man made barriers.
So I throttled off and dropped my speed down to a more reasonable pace, this road could be very dangerous if I lost control.
I rode around the first bend, and came up on a line of cars, they had stopped with their brake lights on, so I immediately checked my speed, and slowed down and stopped behind the line of traffic, there were only three cars in front of me, but this was a narrow road, so I waited like the rest of them for whatever blocked the road up ahead of us had cleared.
I soon found out reason why the cars had stopped, it was because the Llangeinor Hunt were riding up the road, with their pack of fox hounds on a mission to eradicate the world of the evil fox’s, they were allowed to hunt them back then, the fox hunting law was changed in 2005 , nowa days they are only legally allowed to follow a scented rag trail, the rag trail is scented with the urine of a female fox that as already been laid down some hours before the Hunt leaves for the hunt, this urine product cannot be bought anywhere in the UK, so god knows what country is collecting fox urine for commercial purposes.
I waited with the cars as there was no way of getting past the Hunt until all the horses and dogs had all passed by, The Hounds completely covered the road on both sides, so it was impossible to move forward even if I wanted too, so, I switched my engine off and waited, one hairy welsh fox hound tried to push me over by putting two of his paws on me at seat height, they are not small dogs, maybe he could smell my dog ( Fella ) on me.
He was just curious, the Whipper-in blew his horn and shouted some indiscernible command to the dog and called the dog back in-line with the rest of the pack.
I always took great care if I came up on a horse on the road, I would slow down, and give them a wide berth and keep my revs down.
Horses are easily spooked, so to give the horse and rider a chance I would make the bike as quite as possible and wait until I had a clear road before I would overtake, this would always get an appreciative wave from the horse rider.
A little respect goes a long way.
So we all waited for the hunt to pass.
I had some more attention from the hounds as they passed by, and has the horses were riding past by me, I could hear a police siren getting closer, so I looked in my mirror, and seen a police mini coming hurtling around the corner behind us, and breaking hard not to hit any of the horses and hounds on the road, the mini just stopped in time, only just in time not to run into the back of the cars waiting behind me.
The hunt riders all shouted at the coppers in the car, as they rode passed them.
( Photo 3 ) . A typical scene on the roads, when the Llangeinor hunt is out and about on the roads of Wales.
The coppers switched their siren off, and climbed out of the car and walked past the cars behind me and stood on either side off me, one of them reached over and took the keys out of my ignition.
Before I could say anything one copper said in a gruff voice “ get off the bike “.
This turn of events took me by surprise, I had no idea what was going.
I did what I was told and flicked the side stand out and slid off the bike and stood by the side of the bike, half leaning on the seat.
I said to the coppers “ what’s all this about, I haven’t done anything “.
The answer I received was not one I expected, it was given to me by a very irate ginger haired copper shoving a large night-stick type torch into my face.
If I had not moved my head back quickly he would have hit me full in the face with it.
The ginger copper said “ take you helmet off, take it off now “ in a very aggressive tone.
I was used to being to spoken to like a piece of shit by the boys in blue, I was not surprised by this approach and it didn't bother me, I had experienced this situation so often it became normal in a strange way, I simply said “ Why, and no I don’t have to “.
The ginger copper continued “ you are a maniac, a maniac, take you helmet off “ he was waving the torch around like a baseball bat, I swear he had not blinked the whole time he was talking to me, he did not take his eyes off me.
I still had no idea what was going on.
The quite calm copper had not spoken yet, he finally spoke up, and said to the ginger one “ move the traffic on Chris, it's backing up a bit “.
The hunt had ridden passed, the horses leaving little presents in the middle of the road, all the horses and hounds had disappeared around the bend and headed into llangeinor village, but all the cars had stayed where they were to watch what was happening to me.
The cars were encouraged to move on by a very agitated ginger copper.
One car that was parked behind me slowly drove passed and the passenger rolled her window down, she was a lady in her early forties, she said to me “ don’t let them bully you “ and she then gave a real hard stare at the coppers, and I could see everyone that passed was watching the three of us while we were standing there at the side of the road, and the car drivers continued to watch us in their mirrors as they all left the scene.
Once all the traffic had moved on, there was only myself and the two coppers left in the road.
The coppers mini car was still flashing its blue lights and its winkers bringing some orange colour to the scene every few seconds.
The ginger copper approached me once more with his heavy night torch in hand, he pointed the torch into my face one again and said “ take your helmet off “ and repeated his maniac rant again with a little more venom.
The guy was acting as if I had just tried to goose his wife in front of his kids.
He was completely and utterly outraged, this guy was losing the plot, there was no need for his behavior, it was not as if I was mouthing him back, I just lent against my bike and refused to take my helmet off.
Judging by the speed the ginger copper was talking and the wild flailing of his arms, I think I may have frustrated him a little.
I did find his behaviour somewhat irritating as I was trying to talk to the more sedate copper, but was constantly interrupted by his erratic waving of his torch and pushing his face close to mine every time he spoke.
The passive copper was checking out my details as this other idiot continued waving his torch about, the odd thing was, it was broad daylight, so the only reason he had the torch in my opinion was for intermediation purposes.
It must have been very frustrating for him has I would do nothing that he was instructing me to do.
He waved the torch around in frustration close to my head again, I stepped a little closer to the calm copper for my own protection, this guy did not need my help, he was winding himself on his own.
( Photo 4 ) . This was near enough what I looked like when the coppers pulled me over in 1978, but not so muddy this photo was taken on our way back from THE FOOLS rally in 1980, leaning on Fat Mikes 550, all the Coppers could see was my eyes which seemed to frustrate them a little.
I had enough of this bullshit behaviour so I said “ fuck off, fortune “ and pushed the torch away from my face, me doing, and telling him to fuck off stopped the ginger idiot in his tracks, and he literally took a step back.
The passive copper looked up from what he was doing, he had been writing something down in his little black book, when I said the ginger coppers name, he looked at me.
The ginger copper said “ how do you know my name boy “ very aggressively, he was not happy that I knew who he was.
I answered “ because, I know who you are, what do you think “.
I was pissed off with this guy now, ok I was speeding and I would deal with that problem, but this guy was not a good cop, obviously this idiot had personal issues, and he was venting his problems on me, but his behaviour was over the top even for someone who was angry, and he was literary in my face.
The ginger copper was so stupid he did not realise that I lived nearby him, I passed his house numerous times in the day, he lives in the end house in Hill View, overlooking Saint David street, I had to pass his house to where I lived in Upper Adare street every time I left the valley.
The passive copper asked for my driving licence, I said “ I didn’t have it on me “ and then he asked me to take my helmet off in a polite, but forceful way.
Again I refused.
I also said I don't carry my license around with me, I did actually have it tucked away in my wallet, but I thought why make it easier form them.
The ginger copper chirped in “ that against the law, that an offence “.
I replied “ no it's not “.
Ginge said “ yes it is, it's an offence “.
I said “ its not offence, that’s a fence over there” I pointed at the metal wire sheep fence across the road from where we were standing.
The calm copper looked up from his notebook again, and smiled a little, he got the joke.
Ginge didn't.
The ginger copper went redder, and started breathing through his clenched teeth.
This guy was far to easy to wind up.
I was wearing my black full face griffin helmet, with a red and white welsh rugby scarf over my face, all they could see was my baby blue eyes.
The ginger copper was losing it, he was practically shouting at me.
He said “ what’s your name “.
I replied “ I don’t have to give it to you “.
He repeated the same question “ what your name “ now he started breathing heavy.
This guy wanted to batter me.
I said “ I don’t have to give it to you, so your not having it “.
He said “ yes you do, it’s the law “.
I simply said “ no, it's not “.
I was beginning to think this copper had some real major anger issues, and possible the IQ of an earthworm and the charisma of an odour-eater.
He was not on my Christmas list.
The ginger copper stopped talking, and gave me a hard stare, I think he finally realised that I could not be bullied into anything, and anyway he needed to calm down before he has a stroke.
The other copper during all this nonsense was busy checking my bike out, and being on the radio obtaining my bike details.
He seemed quite chilled to me, he did give the ginger copper a few hard looks during his heated and fruitless interrogation of me, I use the word interrogation because that is what it felt like.
He looked up from his notebook and said “ is this your bike “.
I said “ yes “.
Then he said “ what is your name “.
I replied “ like I said to this guy “, pointing at PC fortune “ I don’t have to give it to you“.
The calm copper said “ how are we supposed know, if you are the owner, if you don’t give us your name “.
I said “ I live at the top of the street, at the top of the hill where your ginger friend lives, at number 2 “.
He looked at his notebook again and said “ ok that’s the right address, but it still does not tell us that you own the bike, you could well have stolen it as far as we are concerned “. I said “ has it been reported stolen then “.
He said “ no it hasn’t “.
I just shrugged my shoulders, I had nothing else to say, they were going to book me for something whatever it was going to be.
The calm coppers said “do you have any endorsements “ (endorsements were used before the point system came into effect a few years later ) on your license “ .
I said “ yes, I have 8 “.
He said “ 8, how do you still have a license “.
I shrugged my shoulders again and said “ dun-no “, I was getting bored with all this nonsense now and wanted to go.
( Photo 5 ) . My old paper license, the endorsement CD10 dated 19/11/1978, is the penalty I had for riding through llangeinor, ( undue care and attention ) i was fined £45.
( £45 in 1978 is equivalent in purchasing power to about £271.14 today in 2021 ).
The six endorsements above were all given to me on one occasion, five speeding and one dangerous driving, they had to have a road block to stop me in Aberkenfig, and I was made to go to court to answer for the offences, and for some bizarre reason I did not get banned, but that is another story.
The two endorsements above them, were from a keen young copper trying to make an example of me, he was bitterly disappointed that I was not banned, but like I say that to is another story that I may write about one day.
It was my turn to ask questions, I was fed up with being talked at.
I said “ why do you need my name and why are you doing this “, I still had no idea why they had me on the side of the road.
I said to the calm copper “ can I have my keys back “.
He replied “ you will have them back when I’m ready to give them to you “.
I just sighed and mumbled “ for fuck’s sake “ under my breath.
Through the ginger coppers harsh words, and flamboyant gesturing while I was talking to the passive copper, I managed to get the quiet coppers reason on why these two guys were holding me on the roadside.
He told me that they tried to follow me down the valley, and if it wasn’t for the hunt they would never have caught up with me.
He said “ We would have never had caught you with the speed you were coming down the valley “, he added “ what speed were you doing, you were gone before we pulled out on to the main road “.
I said “ 30 mph “.
The copper just looked at me and said “ we both know you were doing more than 30 mph“.
I said “ I think you may have pulled in the wrong biker “, I lied and said “ a bike passed me on the way down riding really fast, he was gone in a flash and went up the old road“.
The copper looked at me again and said “ we know it was you, this is not the first we have seen you, this is just the first time we caught you, you're going to get charged with something if you like it or not “.
The ginger copper was pacing back and forth, I was glad it was day time on a busy(ish) road, and he didn’t have a truncheon on him.
The calm copper looked once more up from his notebook, and looked at the ginger idiot pacing back and forth, he could see the guy was super agitated, he said “ Chris do you want to sit in the car while I finish speaking to Mr. Lloyd “.
He looked at me and said “ yes, we know who you are “.
He added “ we were doing over 50 and you went off like a rocket”.
I said “ I think you have the wrong person “, the last thing I was going to do was to admit to anything.
He replied “ well whoever you think it was, you are going to pay for it “.
He gave me the H.O.R.T 1 form and said “ you know what to do with this Mr. Lloyd “, in a very sarcastic tone.
I answered “ I can think of a few things “ and I smiled under the cover of my scarf and helmet, but he could see my eyes were smiling.
( The H.O.R.T. / combined stop form.1, it was a slip of paper that instructs you to produce your driving documents to the police station of your choice ) “ which is nice of them to give you the option.
The calm copper finished our road side interview by saying “ you will hear something in the post in the coming weeks, I dare say you already know that “.
I said “ yeah thanks , I look forward to it ”.
The copper just shock his head and said “ slow down before it kills you, or you kill someone else “.
The copper handed me back my keys, and said “Take you time on the roads t “.
Well, he was right, I have heard this same sentence numerous time over the years, but like I have said before, when you are young you feel immortal and death was always someone else problem.
The ginger copper was sitting in the passenger seat of the patrol car, and just kept staring at me.
I sat on my bike, and took my helmet off and put it onto the tank, I left my scarf over my face.
I was not leaving until they had left, even if it took them all day to leave, I was not having them follow me down the rest of the road.
After about five minutes, they pulled off very slowly, then they drove passed me and headed down the road towards Brynmenyn, I waited until they had gone completely out of sight, before I kicked the bike over, I slipped my helmet back on, and turned around in the road and double back onto the old road which would take me in the direction I wanted to go.
I took the H.O.R.T 1 into Bridgend police station, all my documents were in order, so I had no problems there.
Like the copper said, I had a letter in the post some weeks later which I was expecting.
I was expecting a speeding fine, but I had been convicted for a more serious driving offense of driving without due care and attention.
The coppers could not prove I was speeding, so they claimed I was driving recklessly, there was no point in me fighting the endorsement, as there were two coppers against me, I had no chance of winning, the magistrate would have taken their word, not mine, and it would have cost me even more money, so I just excepted the result, after all I was doing 90 mph in a 30 limit, so I did deserve it anyway.
I was lucky it was not dangerous driving instead, and why I didn’t get banned is always a mystery to me with the other driving convictions that I had on my licence.
The coppers had parked out of sight, and I did not spot them, I rode passed them at around 80 mph, they gave chase which I wasn’t aware of, it was a bit like the tortoise and the hare fable.
What can I say I was speeding, so I got caught, like the man says shit happens.
I didn’t learn my lesson, I still rode fast everywhere, all it did was take money out of my pocket, which didn’t bother me at the time, I was earning stupid money back then, more than I needed for my age, but it did make me more aware of where the coppers parked up on the roads.
I did hear through the grape vine that the ginger copper who lived at the end of my old street, went on long term stress leave, I was not the only one he behaved like an idiot in front of.
I take it my little incident didn’t help with his condition.
Yamaha FJ 1200
Dai Moberly was running Two wheel Service’s and one day he asked me if I could do him favour.
I was hanging about around the bike work-shop at the back of the shop, chatting to PJ and Brian ( mule ) Morgan who were the mechanic there at the time.
It was a Saturday, and my shift finished at mid-day so I popped to Bridgend just to kill the time before going out in the evening.
( Photo 6 ) . A FJ 1200 Yamaha, another great bike to ride.
Dai wanted me to deliver a small parcel to a garage just off the M4 motorway in between Cardiff and Newport.
He said I don’t have to take my Z1000 I could take a shop bike to ride on the trip, so I was given a Yamaha FJ 1200 to ride to the garage, the FJ had a red, white and blue paint scheme and oddly enough a 16` wheel on the front and rear of the bike which I thought was a bit strange, I asked Dai if there was enough petrol in the tank.
He said “ yes it has a full, I made sure because this model does not have a reserve tap “, another strange idea on this bike.
The parcel was small enough to tuck down the front of my leather jacket, I had carried loads of stuff this way for years if I didn’t have any panniers on the bike.
The parcel was not heavy, it was something like a flasher unit or something similar, too big to be put into my pocket, but just the right size to fit down the front of my jacket.
The Yamaha had just been checked over by P.J or Brian, so it was ready to be put into the showroom to be put on sale.
Because I rode a 1000 cc bike my insurance was of the unlimited type, so I could ride any size bike, if I owned it or borrowed it, I was covered by the insurance.
Sitting on the bike, I found it a little wider than my Kawasaki.
It has a standard seat and I had trouble touching the floor, as I’m not the tallest person in the world, I have always had trouble with big bikes with touching the floor with both feet, but I always managed one way or another.
But nevertheless, off I went heading for the M4, I intended to enter the M4 at the on ramp at Pencoed.
I hit some traffic as I was leaving the outskirts of Bridgend and had to crawl along at a snails pace around 10 -15 mph.
I was very surprised how the big Yamaha handled on low revs’, it didn’t miss a beat and the response from the engine was excellent with a slight touch of the throttle the bike didn’t falter, comparing it to my LTD 1000 it seemed to handle town traffic with the ease of a smaller bike, unlike my Kwaka, if she was not going 70 MPH everywhere she was not happy.
The traffic thinned out as I reached the Waterton roundabout, the road was clear so I banked into the roundabout without stopping at the junction, ( there were no traffic lights at the roundabout during this time, and the roads were not as busy as they are nowa days ).
The bike was solid, as I banked around the island, I turned the power on and flicked the bike over onto the left side junction and roared up the bypass that ran parallel with the trading estate heading towards Pencoed.
I soon ran out of road and throttled off, I watched the Speedo descend down from 110 mph.
The bike climbed up to that speed so quickly that I didn’t even notice how fast I was going as I passed a line of cars.
I was well ahead of the traffic now, the line of cars that I caught up with were way behind me now, I could see no cars coming around the roundabout so I laid the bike hard into the bend and curved around the island at the Pied-Piper pub roundabout and took the bypass that runs past Coychurch, just where Galen and Lawson fell off coming back from the Vine Rally.
I only accelerated up to 85 mph, and then shut it down again as I approached the on ramp on the M4.
The bike had an excellent power band and didn’t twitch at all as I turned the power on.
The ride was so smooth it was difficult to keep the bike below the 100 mph.
Once on the M4, I decided to stay with the flow of the traffic and not overtake anything, this was my way of avoiding another speeding ticket.
I arrived where I was going a lot quicker than I intended.
The garage was easy to find, I had imagined it being a small shed type building with old fashion wooden doors on creaking hinges, and even smaller forecourt with four or five older cars waiting to be fixed and with a hand painted sign above the garage doors with something like ( John’s Auto Shop, M.O.T.`s while you wait ) and a middle-aged mechanic in blue one piece greasy overalls.
What I found was completely different, the garage looked like a large warehouse sized glass fronted building, with what looked like hundreds of modern cars, and around half dozen suits walking around wearing plastic smiles, milling around waiting to pounce on their next victim.
I pulled up outside this glass fronted building, and before I could take my helmet off, a salesman who must have been trained by ninjas came out of nowhere, because he wasn’t there when I pulled up, and he looked about 12 years old.
And before I could say anything, he said “ you looking for a car, we have a large selection to chose from, nice bike, I’ll take that in part exchange, I’ll do you a deal you can't refuse “.
I though “ Fuck this guy, wastes no time “.
I was taken aback by the verbal onslaught, I replied, “ slow down and no thanks I’m looking for a Mr. ####### “, ( it’s been a long time, I’m not sure what the guys name was now, after all it's been 30 odd years, I tend to forget trivial details nowa days ).
The 12-year-old suit, said “ oh, ok I’ll see if I can find him for you “.
A couple of minutes later three guys came out of what must have been their offices, I stayed by the bike, there was nothing here I wanted to look at, just boxes with wheels, I have no interest in cars.
( Photo 7 ) . Me on my Z1000, she still lives in my garage.
There was one shorter guy, I'd say short, he must have been 5`9“ or so he just looked smaller than the two other guys, who were both way above the 6-foot mark, he was still taller than me.
They all had grim faces and walked straight to me.
One of them as they were approaching me, said “ what do you want with Mr. . ### 5` 9”#### “.
In a not to friendly voice.
I said “ Dai Moberlly from Two Wheel Services in Bridgend asked me to deliver this parcel “.
I had the parcel in my hand, I handed it to one of the big guys.
Then the smaller one said “ Ah great, I have been waiting for that to arrive thank you, would you like a cup of coffee before you go “.
I said “ no thanks I have to get back”.
The smaller guy said “ well, thank you again, tell David thank you for me “
I replied “ yes no problem, bye “.
With that they walked away.
I didn’t need to get back to Bridgend for ages, but I didn’t want to stop here with these guys, nothing happened, but they may sell cars, but going by their actions on my arrival they may have some other darker business that I didn’t want to know about, this was impression I got, it could well have been all legit, and me just being suspicious and paranoid.
So I said my goodbyes, and jumped on the bike and roared off toward the M4 motorway and headed for Bridgend.
The M4 was pretty well empty, so I opened the throttle, the Yamaha responded immediately, and eat the road up fast, very fast, I was well impressed with this bikes' performance, it handled well, it had a power band that seemed to cover high and low revs’ in all the gears.
I did find the gearbox a little on the crunchy side, that’s me just being fickle, but no real complaints from me, whoever ended buying this FJ would have a real good deal when they buy this bike.
I opened the throttle, and climbed up the gears, within seconds I was hitting over a 100 mph, I could fell the strain of the acceleration on my arms as the large beast of a bike kept hurtling forward.
At around 110 mph my mirrors started to vibrate so badly that everything was blurred, this was not a problem as there was nothing behind me, I had left all the other vehicles on the motorway way behind me.
I was in top gear now, and kept the throttle open, the speed kept climbing, at 115 the vibration in the mirrors disappeared completely.
I felt a little tremble in the handlebars, but nothing serious, this also disappeared has I passed the 120 mph mark.
The trees that lined the motorway, and the rest of the world rushed passed me.
The bike was solid as a rock, I glanced down at the Speedo, it had just edged over the 120 mark, the bike was still pulling and was hungry for more.
I was in two minds of pushing it to its limit and to see what I could get out of the engine.
This bike was flying, the power was never ending, the more I opened the throttle the faster I went, I know that sound obvious, but this engine wanted more, it was very responsive and had more to give and the engine kept pulling, I could feel the wind coming off the faring pushing against me.
I had to physically lean forward to counter this invisible force shield, the wind was somehow getting under my helmet and pushing my head up, so I had to tilt my head forward to avoid getting my head ripped of by the force of the wind, I felt like a pilot in open cockpit plane from the first world war.
The bike had a smallish faring, and I was built small enough to lay down on the tank, and stay out of the slipstream coming off the faring.
I did think about pushing the bike to its limit just to see what it could do, I was not sure what the top speed of this bike was, even at 125 mph the bike felt it had plenty of power let in the engine.
Well, I thought better of it, it's not my bike, and I don't think Dai would have been happy if it came back on a trailer with bits hanging off it, so I eased the throttle off and slowed the bike down, by just coasting to around 80 mph with the throttle shut down.
I rode at this pace all the way to the Sarn turn off, the bike didn’t miss a beat.
I had no idea at the time what the top speed of this bike was, but I did learn later that it could top the 150 mph mark, I would have taken it closer to that speed if I had known beforehand.
I pulled off the M4 motorway at Sarn, and entered onto the road that would take me through Litchard Cross on my way to the bike shop, and then about half a mile down the road, I was flagged down by a copper who was standing on the side of the road, I had just passed the traffic lights at Litchard cross just before where the princess of Wales hospital is located.
I had just run into a random police check point.
The police set these temporary check spots up all over the place, and pull in random motorists, just to check that the diver/rider and everything else is legal on the vehicle.
I was pulled over and was told to switch the bike off, and get off the bike, which I did without complaint, the quicker I could get this bollocks over with the better.
I was told to wait while the two coppers finished processing another motorist that they had pulled in a few minutes earlier, around five minutes later it was my turn, it seemed a lot longer.
So I stood at the side of a busy road leaning on the Yamaha, I had taken my helmet off, and just waited for the coppers to deal with their last victim.
I listened to the Yamaha ping has the engine cooled down.
Then one of the coppers came over to me, and immediately started asking all the usual questions.
“ Is this your bike “.
My answer was short, “ no “.
Short pause and then the copper looked at me and said “ well smart arse, who owns the bike “.
I answered “ most likely two wheel service’s, I guess “.
He said “ so you don’t know who owns the bike then “.
I replied “ I'm not sure, I’m just riding it “.
I had this attitude because I had been pulled in so many times in the past for no reason whatsoever, and these spot checks irritated me, I could not complain if I had broken some traffic law, but just being pulled over because I was riding a bike was annoying, it was not just me, every biker had this problem with being targeted by whatever police force patrolled the area they lived in.
The copper said “ ok smart arse, is it stolen”.
I said “ no “, a very short answer again.
I knew there was nothing wrong with the bike, Dai Moberly would not have let me ride it if there was anything dodgy about the bike, and all my personnel paper work like insurance and licence was in order, I have had a full bike license since 1972, and my insurance covered me for this bike, so I had no worries.
The copper sighed, he looked more bored than I felt, I don’t think he wanted to be there either.
He said “ alright let's start again, you are riding the bike for a bike shop, yes “ he answered his own question.
I said “ yes “.
He looked at me, and with a small pause said “ and “ .
I said “ I was delivering a parcel for the bike shop to a garage just off the M4 motorway and now I’m on my way back to the bike shop”.
He said, looking a little annoyed with me“ Why didn't you say that in the first place “.
He then asked me for my license.
I had it on me so I handed it to him, I thought the sooner I get this load of bollocks over and with, I could be on my way.
He checked it out, and spoke to the other copper who was sitting in the car, and then after a while he came back to me and said everything seems to be in order, I take it you have insurance cover for this bike.
I said “ yeah my insurance covers me for this bike and any other bike, its unlimited “ and then to my surprise his whole attitude changed, he said “ what do you normally ride “.
I replied “ I have a Kawasaki Z1000 , the custom version, the LTD model “.
He said “ mmm nice, I like the Z1000s “ and then he said he had BMW r80 and was thinking about replacing it with something bigger like a big Honda.
I replied “ good reliable bikes the BM’s, I have a friend who used to ride BMW’S “.
He continued “ what do you think of this bike “ he pointed at the Yamaha.
I said “ to be honest it is a good bike, it handles well, and it likes town traffic which has surprised me, and it has a very good performance, this one is well worth the money “.
We continued talking for another half an hour about other bikes and stuff.
He said “ right I have to get back to work, I have to give you this, you know what it is “ .
I replied “ yeah no problem “.
He gave me a H.O.R.T.1 form.
It was the standard piece of paper that police give to you, for you to provide whatever documents where ticked on the form to produce at a police station of your choice.
I said bye to the copper as I left.
He gave me a wave as he watched me leave, and off I went back to the bike shop, and told Dai that the cops pulled me in and there were no problems with the spot check or with the bike and it ran very well.
It was a strange ride, the bike turned out better than I thought it would, I like my Z1000, but if I was looking for a heavy long range cruiser the FJ1200 would have been my first choice after riding one.
The people at the garage on the M4 were a little unexpected, I didn’t know what was going on there except for selling cars, and I didn’t want to know, and I actually had a decent conversation with a copper that I did not know, which was more of a surprise then anything else that had happened that day.
Nothing bad happened, which is always a good end to a days riding.
( Photo 8 ) . Not mine, but a typical H.O.R.T 1 stop form that was issued by coppers at the roadside.
YAMAHA FJ 1200 . SPEC’S
1097 cc D.O.H.C ( double over head cam ).
Straight four cylinder 16 valve engine.
125 HP ( horse power ).
556 lb ( dry weight ).
40 mpg ( miles per gallon ).
Top speed of 150 mph.