Riding With the James Gang
RIDING WITH THE JAMES GANG
Score: Cool Guy 1, Geek O
JOHN BURNS
RIGHT, THAT’S A SLIGHT exaggeration, but Jesse James of late constitutes a Gang of One. When I first met him a couple of years ago, the man was already famous in certain circles. Now, after the Discovery Channel profiles, the fame thing is nearly out of hand. After I got through the first nice lady that answers the phone at West Coast Choppers, I smacked hard up against JJ’s personal assistant.
“Cycle World magazine story? Don’t know anything about it.”
“Er, ah, could you just tell Jesse I called?”
Not to worry, JJ called back shortly, just the same unspoilt-by-success nice guy as last we spake. Fame does change things, though, and so the security screen has had to be slightly fortified. For me, this turns out not to be a bad thing, since all the hoopla means James needs only the slightest arm-twist to bail out of the autograph-seeker-filled shop for a ride-especially if it’s the week after Daytona, and if, like me, you’re fortunate enough to be in possession of a new 2002 Yamaha Rl, which Jesse badly needs to ride.
Right, what’ll I ride, Jess? Your own chrome Rl? Your 228-horse Hayabusa? Your Buick Wildcat?
“You can ride the bike I rode to Sturgis,” says Jesse over the phone.
Coolness, I think, probably some nice Road King or something (I missed the latest Discovery Channel special, which co-starred the bike). Turns out there’s nothing nice about the bike Jesse rode to Sturgis. The bike Jesse rode to Sturgis is a big choppery thing, with a monstrous Patrick-headed, 160-horse VTwin that sits in the skinny frame like a dragon under a rickety bridge in a bad dream when you were 8.
Naturally, it’s hand-shift, foot-clutch, with which I have zero experience. JJ rolled it out and fired it up.
“Scared?” he asks, as the exhaust pipes blow loose paint off the garage doorframe.
Hah! Jesse laid down a few power darkies in the street next to his shop to blow out the carbon. I, personally, feel the shifter and clutch linkages could use a little finetuning, but JJ has no problem bombing ’round on the beast. Disengage the clutch by pussing (say, can a typing error constitute a Freudian slip?), I mean pushing down on the clutch lever with your left foot, then pull the handshifter back into first. Let the clutch out sloooowly...no need for any throttle at all setting off in first; the thing just torques away.
Once rolling, Sturgis Bike is easy enough to ride-toe down the clutch and push the stick forward for the next four gears. Anticipate the traffic and the lights to minimize stops and life is good. The tough part for me was finding neutral, and if I had to come to a stop while lane-splitting in Long Beach traffic, it was important to remember the clutch is on the left foot, so don’t be counting on that appendage for balance. Easy enough until you realize you’re the center of attention and start playing to the crowd and forget. I stalled the bike a couple times right in the thick of traffic while squeezing air with my left hand. Luckily I was wearing a full-face helmet with a mirrored shield.
One beauty of this type of vehicle is that when you lose ignition at the head of a line of cars-and have to fool around for a couple seconds or half an hour finding neutral again-nobody honks. Everyone is very unusually polite and patient. I felt like I should’ve been wearing a sandwich board that read, “It’s Okay, Don’t be Afraid to Honk, I am NOT a Hell’s Angel.”
Wasn’t long before the beast and I came to a meeting of the minds, though. It’s surprisingly comfy, really, thanks to its very wide and pretty thick saddle-and there is suspension at the rear, somewhere. The handshift, long reach to the bars and long trail all convince you that just your right hand on the throttle is
enough to keep the bike cruising sweetly along, which opens up various cool options for the left: rest it on your
knee, drape it over the shifter, let your knuckles drag the pavement... Say, this is pretty sweet, actually. With the shifter right there and the booming exhaust note, it does feel like cruising the boulevard in a Hemi ’Cuda, just like JJ said.
Eventually traffic cleared and the time was ripe for giving the throttle a big twist in second gear: Holy mother of pearl! HOOOOOBAAAAl I rolled the throttle a tick and jammed the stick into third, bwwAAAAAAAAAHHH, and hit a large bump in the road just before I could re-grab the left handlebar. And there I was, butt in the air and then sliding south over the nicely waxed rear fender, 160-horse Twin pulling like a 160horse Twin, my throttle hand the only link between man and machine. Luckily, the engine ran out of revs before things could further unravel, and I slid back into the seat and banged into fourth for the big right sweeper over the entrance to Huntington Harbor.
Sturgis Bike was well in excess of the posted speed limit (I think, there’s no speedometer) by that time, but I felt safe enough because JJ was running lawenforcement interference on the back wheel of the R1 (he likes to give back to society via traffic fines). Hard to say which bike is faster off the line given my lousy clutch technique on the chopper, but the R1 gets the nod in the chassis department; Sturgis Bike reacts to countersteering the way a cape buffalo responds to being led on a leash. The fork tubes flex and the wheel is unaffected. Throw in a little body weight, though, and it turns okay. All that trail keeps things in line, but at 90-ish with the power on in a gradual tum-if you’re used to Ris and things-just barely.
Heading back to the shop, we amble up Pine Street in downtown Long Beach, where everybody knows JJ, and so for good measure I stall the beast a couple more times (before figuring out I needed to switch to Reserve).
Swap back, JJ?
With pleasure.
Hey, is this R1 running? I can’t hear anything...ah, yes it is. The transition must be like hopping from a P-51 to an F-16, but I’ve never been in either, so? At the risk of drawing ire from F-16 jockeys, I’d say you’re more technician than pilot of the Rl. Doing Sturgis Bike right requires you to be part steam-locomotive engineer, part motorcycle daredevil, part carnival showman-and that’s only after you’ve built the thing with your own hands. Jesse James pulls it all off without even trying, and that, friends, is what makes him so freaking cool.
