Memories of my motorcycles

Motorcyclists are often said to develop an intimate “relationship” with their vehicles. Some give their machines names, park them in the garage on soft carpets and leave them in the living room for the winter. I even know the living room thing myself.
But relationships end – memories remain.

Before you read, please note: this post was translated with the help of Deepl.
If you find any errors – please have fun first and then give me a hint.

Piaggio
 Ciao 50 / Bravo 50

At 17, real motorcycles were still out of reach – the only thing available to me were horribly mishandled mopeds. But: I threw all my finances into optimizing them. What I didn’t spend on tuning parts and accessories I needed for crash parts, because even with all the tuning there was never enough for a proper brake. As a result, the Piaggio Bravo, which was eventually really fast, was irretrievably wrecked. Luckily, the rider, who had been driving it around without my knowledge (!), was unhurt. And paid the price.

Both classics, the Ciao and the Bravo, have become rare despite their former popularity. The airstream of the new water-cooled, plastic-wrapped scooters, which could reach speeds of around 80 km/h, has swept them off Italy’s roads. I don’t miss the non-existent chassis and the butter-soft frame, which had to be straightened after every fast ride. Nor do I mourn the many breakdowns in the wet – it reliably caused short circuits.

Conclusion:
Better a bad ride than a good walk …

Suzuki
 RGV 250 Gamma

In my 20s, when monetary prosperity came my way for a short time, I was captivated by a Japanese beauty. I had to have her at any price. She was classy and super sporty – and I got, of course, stuck with her on the first ride. After the initial difficulties, I rode her a lot and eagerly, but after two engine failures and a crash, my pride of ownership faded somewhat.

This engine damage due to difficult and sensitive two-stroke technology killed most of the Gammas. Today, well-preserved machines are offered for twice their original price – it wouldn’t have been a bad idea to keep one of my RGVs (I actually had two). I learned to ride it, ventured into lean angles for the first time and ventured into illegal speed ranges. The little drunk Suzuki RGV 250 Gamma holds a special place in my heart, and not just because of that.

Conclusion:
You never forget your first motorcycle …

Suzuki
 LS 650 Savage

The head of the driving school said dryly, pointing at my RGV: “You’re not allowed to ride THAT bike”. I had never thought of that in my motorcycle mania – my driving license only allowed machines with up to 27 kW. And that for three eternally long years. But the Gamma pushed twice as much. I gave it up in exchange for the Suzuki LS 650 Savage. But gap fillers never have it easy – after only 6,000 kilometers I had had enough of the not at all “wild” one. Neither the engine performance nor the chassis or brakes, and consequently riding it, ever gave me any pleasure. Not good memories – after the LS I went underground …

Among the now more than bloated modern cruisers, the Savage is a small and, thanks to its single cylinder, unique motorcycle. No other motorcycle conveys the spirit of a chopper reduced to the bare essentials quite like it.

Conclusion:
I wasn’t relaxed enough for the savage one yet …

Yamaha
 FZR 1000 Exup

This machine had more of everything: Compared to the Savage 650, it had five times more power, felt twice as wide and went more than twice as fast. A beast that I moved illegally. I went on my first long distance trips with it and rode over 40,000 km without any problems. But when the first more expensive wear parts became due, my poor civilian service salary separated us.

In its day, it was what a Ducati Panigale is today: the wildest thing on two wheels. Completely obsessed with it, I bought another one at the end of my civilian service – but this one had massive damage and unfortunately went back to the dealer.

Conclusion:
In his life, a man must …

Yamaha
 TRX 850

After the fat years on the 1000cc FZR, the Yamaha TRX came to me – a brazen Ducati copy. It rode first-class, was extremely economical and optimally motorized – but above all it was beautiful! As in many relationships, however, a third party was involved. Yamaha, of all people, worked hard to separate me and my TRX.

For a long time, the 850 was the perfect motorcycle for me: fun on all roads. I enjoyed road surfing for over 60,000 kilometers before I had to part with it due to engine damage caused by my workshop.

Conclusion:
Less was definitely more in this case ..

Triumph
 Daytona T595 / 955i

I would have loved to stay loyal to the three tuning forks – but after the workshop disaster, Yamaha was no longer an option. I longed for the R1 – in its place I found a British lady: the three-cylinder Triumph Daytona T595. It was my most expensive purchase to date, it was also a Ducati copy and it was another stopgap. And it was the protagonist of another drama in two acts – thanks to the conversion of the first, never properly functioning machine. As beautiful as these motorcycles were – they were way ahead of their time and lagged miles behind proven standards.

None of my motorcycles was in the workshop more often, none caused more problems. None was hotter, none annoyed me more. But their aggressive intake noise still echoes bloodcurdlingly in my memories …

Conclusion:
Without the Daytonas, I would be missing something …

KTM
 LC4 640 / 625 / 690

The single-cylinder supermotos from KTM – they ignited the madness in my motorcycling soul at the first twist of the throttle. Wheelies, stoppies, drifts, crashes, acrobatics, excitement and fun. Wish fulfillers and playmates, all three of them. In terms of riding, I took huge steps forward – WHAT a brilliant time!

You get older and quieter – but I always turn my head when a sharp single cylinder bangs past. The memories of the fun on the road are set in stone. Without the three supermotos, my motorcycling from 2002 onwards would have been very different: probably less sporty, certainly less crazy, but above all less fun.

Conclusion:
Second gear, full throttle – Wheelie!!!

KTM
 LC8 1290 Superduke R

The Duke III’s chassis was sensational, but I didn’t like the engine as much. I missed the power from the very bottom that the 625 SCSM in particular delivered. My dealer had the solution in the store: the really big Duke, the Beast, a 1290 Superduke R, built in 2016. Mercilessly overpowered and blessed with too much of everything, the big one combined everything I was looking for in a motorcycle at the time. Maneuverability, power in every speed range, special looks. WHAT a machine!

It ate tires like no other bike before it. I was constantly in a clinch with slipping or lifting wheels. Dedicated rides on the Stelvio Pass gave me pain in my upper arms, the pull of the bike was so strong. It was unbelievable what KTM had created. Nevertheless, I traded it in after four years. It was just too much for me. But – I like to repeat myself: WHAT a machine!

Conclusion:
Too much is never enough …

I’m still working on more memories – I’m not motorcycle-monogamous.

Perfectly matching: