Nowadays I steam up and down the country on my mile eater;  the mighty Kawasaki ZZR1100 chewing up roads and scaring Volvo drivers as I steam past making LOTS of noise, making the scenery do the Star Wars hyperspace effect with that funky little twist grip and crapping myself at the sight of an unexpected speed camera.  Wasn’t always that way though.

My first bike was, and still is a Yamaha XJ600S Diversion.  The beloved Divvy.  Once up at the top of it’s particular league, then outclassed by the Suzi Bandit, it’s got a reputation for being dull which is a shame.  What I did with it was buy my J reg. bike seventh hand in 1998, ignore all that insurance company shite that says bikers only do 4,000 miles a year and promptly stick 21,000 miles on it in two years.  That bike scared my shitless for the 12 mile ride home from the dealers, so much more presence than the ER-5 I learned on, but I soon got used to him and started enjoying myself.  Poor little bugger, it’s a commuter/light tourer and really shouldn’t be treated like I treated it, but the XJ engine has a reputation for being bulletproof and I proved that true.  Cornwall, Yorkshire, all around the South –  the only place I didn’t go was Scotland and that was only because I can’t understand a word anyone says up there.  But eventually things move on.  My girlfriend lives in Humberside and the weekly commute north on a 600 became a bit of a trial.  I needed something with a bit more oomph and after a couple of heinous late night rides in winter, better protection.  I was thinking ZZR600 or similar; as always I went over the top and went for the ZZR1100 which serves my purposes perfectly.

It was never my intention to commute on the big Zed.  Not that sort of bike really, so the plan was to keep the Div for the twenty mile round trip commute to my new works in Felixstowe and use the Kwakker for weekends and fun.  And so it was, until the Divvy finally repaid my years of abuse by having a major wobbly in the engine department and packing up.  Many months of using the Kwakker for what I never intended for it ensued.

And so it was that in September 2001 my Divvy was delivered back to my door after I finally got the readies together to have a major top end engine rebuild done for it.  Daft decision you might say; a commuter bike worth less than a grand now isn’t worth spending that sort of money on?  Bollocks to you, it was my first bike, it never let me down bigstyle until the end, it hauled my fat arse around far more stupid places than I had the right to ask it and I’m a sentimental bugger when I want to be. 

A lunchtime not too long ago.  There’s no petrol in the car, there’s not petrol in the Zed and I’m on a schedule.  “Oh well” I think, “no time like the present to see how this new top end is performing”.  So on with the lid, strap the briefcase on the pillion and off we go.  The clutch was a little twitchy at first but soon evened out, and the idle speed wanted adjusting – that’s a good sign, means things are working efficiently at last.  The bottom end’s still a bit rattly, but I can’t afford two rebuilds in one year so it’ll have to do.  The chain’s loose but even I can fix that.  My first thought???  “My god, how the hell did me and this little bike survive 21,000 miles??  It’s so SMALL !!!!  Even the switches seem TINY !!! I’m so UPRIGHT !!!!  I’m so EXPOSED !!!!  Used to being part of the ZZR’s machine you see.  Like a gun in a holster, with more grunt than anyone needs  at the twist of a wrist.  Skittling off down the road towards the A14 junction, my gear changes are lousy and the back tyre’s skipping all over the place for the first half mile.  Not used to such a light bike, you see.  Light, I used to think this bike was heavy as lead…

Within a mile or so, all had come together and I knew what I was doing again.  The engine starts to do it’s stuff, the brakes are freshly adjusted and on the ball and I’m cranking the revs up to six or seven thou’, eighty on the clock and I’m enjoying myself again.  If you see seven thou’ in top on the Zed you’d better be looking out for gatsos.  Coming up to Dock Spur roundabout, I crank it around and suddenly I’m knowing what I’m doing and doing it well.  Taking the roundabout fast and enjoying it, pegs not down but they weren’t far off and I was never into that sillibuggers stuff anyway.  It goes where you point it, none of this business of having to watch your throttle hand or becoming a spat on the wall.  On a Div, you can ENJOY roundabouts without any of this tedious knee down business to worry about.  I’m utterly confident.  Into town, and suddenly I’m on a bike of the gods.  Flickable, nimble, all the grunt you need in any town I’m chewing up the traffic just like I ought.  Don’t get me wrong, I love my Kwakker but I don’t much enjoy towns on it.  It’s posey as hell but it’s a pain in the arse unless you can keep moving.  Knowing the bigger bikes now, on the Div it’s a laugh.  Into the works compound, into the bike shed and only nine hours ‘til the ride home.

So I think I’ll carry on with my daft idea of running a two bike stable on a civil servant’s salary.  I’ve got a place for both my bikes in my needs, and that Div’s going to get rolled into the garage soon for a bit of a cosmetic touch up, then it’s winter when Kwakkers have to hide from the ice and snow.  Div’s restored my confidence in it, and brought back a little bit of a different sort of fun.  They’re bulletproof, reliable, highly rideable and after all these years I reckon they’re still a top commuter bike that’ll do everything you want of it.  Oh, and if you’re a BaB, you might find they’ll last longer than a Bandit.  They don’t call it Bindit for nothing