Clarkson on Cars by Jeremy Clarkson Read Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jeremy Clarkson
distance in nine and a half seconds but he knows nothing of real danger because, as far as I know, he has never tried to go anywhere on a quad bike.
You see, it’s no good just sitting on these four-wheeled motorcycles and hoping you can get to where you want to go, because, depending on which machine you choose to use, you will either end up at your destination covered in bruises or you will end up at completely the wrong place.
The £2495 Honda TRX 250 fourtrax is an out-and-out racer, with extrovert styling and a two-stroke 250-cc motor which will propel it to 100 mph having dispensed with the 0 to 60 increment in about five seconds.
Although it could be used in farms or forests, because nature has yet to invent an obstacle to stop these buzz bombs, the TRX is bought in small numbers only by people who wish to win various off-road races.
The controls are familiar to any motorcyclist, the only fundamental difference being the throttle, which is not activated by a twist grip. Instead, there’s a little thumb-operated lever which stands no chance of jamming open should the infernal thing fall on its side.
Which it does. Often.
While it is akin to a Group B evolution car, the £2999 Suzuki LT4WD is sort of Range Roverish. Like the Honda, it gets mostly motorcycle controls but it has no clutch, a reverse gear, three ranges, a locking differential and switchable two- or four-wheel drive.
We are forever being told how clever the Japanese are becoming in the art of miniaturisation, but to have crammed this little lot into a machine the size of a salted peanut is nothing short of remarkable.
It’s powered by a four-stroke 250-cc engine which develops 20 bhp and has five forward gears which can be shifted even with the throttle wide open. Every other lever on it, and there are 37, is a brake.
The Honda’s main failing is a simple one. With 45 bhp on tap, it is too bloody fast for appalling weeds like me.
When it’s off the cam, everything is fine and it potters round at a leisurely pace, popping and spluttering a bit but getting by all right.
However, if you inadvertently get the motor in its thankfully narrow power band, then the front wheels leave the ground and you must sit there and do nothing until you hit something. Well that’s what I did anyway.
If you remove your thumb from the accelerator, the engine braking is sufficient to hurl you over the handlebars. If you steer, the back slews round and you roll, and if you keep the power on, you just end up going faster and faster, until you’re scared rigid and incapable of taking any preventative action at all. You are, not to put too fine a point on it, stuck in a no-win situation from which there is only one escape: an accident.
The Suzuki has a less serious problem but it’s one that warrants a mention none the less. In essence, the rider has no say in which direction it goes.
You can do what you will with the handlebars but you will continue to make straight line forward progress until a) you stop by applying one of the 37 brakes or b) you run into something.
Now, if you stop, you will have to dismount, lift up the front, take a theodolite bearing on where you want to go, drop the front down so it points in the proper direction and set off again towards the next accident.
I found the best way to alter course was to strike things a glancing blow. With practice, it’s possible to bash into the selected target at exactly the correct speed and angle so you emerge from the confrontation pointing at your destination. A bit like snooker on wheels.
The best targets for such assaults are people, as they’re mushy and don’t harm the bike’s bodywork or tracking. Car doors are good too because they buckle and bend long before anything on the super sturdy Suzi gives up the ghost.
So, after a brief flirtation on the Honda, I gave it to a colleague for the duration and I later saw him fairly regularly, on each occasion wearing a frightened look on his face and
You see, it’s no good just sitting on these four-wheeled motorcycles and hoping you can get to where you want to go, because, depending on which machine you choose to use, you will either end up at your destination covered in bruises or you will end up at completely the wrong place.
The £2495 Honda TRX 250 fourtrax is an out-and-out racer, with extrovert styling and a two-stroke 250-cc motor which will propel it to 100 mph having dispensed with the 0 to 60 increment in about five seconds.
Although it could be used in farms or forests, because nature has yet to invent an obstacle to stop these buzz bombs, the TRX is bought in small numbers only by people who wish to win various off-road races.
The controls are familiar to any motorcyclist, the only fundamental difference being the throttle, which is not activated by a twist grip. Instead, there’s a little thumb-operated lever which stands no chance of jamming open should the infernal thing fall on its side.
Which it does. Often.
While it is akin to a Group B evolution car, the £2999 Suzuki LT4WD is sort of Range Roverish. Like the Honda, it gets mostly motorcycle controls but it has no clutch, a reverse gear, three ranges, a locking differential and switchable two- or four-wheel drive.
We are forever being told how clever the Japanese are becoming in the art of miniaturisation, but to have crammed this little lot into a machine the size of a salted peanut is nothing short of remarkable.
It’s powered by a four-stroke 250-cc engine which develops 20 bhp and has five forward gears which can be shifted even with the throttle wide open. Every other lever on it, and there are 37, is a brake.
The Honda’s main failing is a simple one. With 45 bhp on tap, it is too bloody fast for appalling weeds like me.
When it’s off the cam, everything is fine and it potters round at a leisurely pace, popping and spluttering a bit but getting by all right.
However, if you inadvertently get the motor in its thankfully narrow power band, then the front wheels leave the ground and you must sit there and do nothing until you hit something. Well that’s what I did anyway.
If you remove your thumb from the accelerator, the engine braking is sufficient to hurl you over the handlebars. If you steer, the back slews round and you roll, and if you keep the power on, you just end up going faster and faster, until you’re scared rigid and incapable of taking any preventative action at all. You are, not to put too fine a point on it, stuck in a no-win situation from which there is only one escape: an accident.
The Suzuki has a less serious problem but it’s one that warrants a mention none the less. In essence, the rider has no say in which direction it goes.
You can do what you will with the handlebars but you will continue to make straight line forward progress until a) you stop by applying one of the 37 brakes or b) you run into something.
Now, if you stop, you will have to dismount, lift up the front, take a theodolite bearing on where you want to go, drop the front down so it points in the proper direction and set off again towards the next accident.
I found the best way to alter course was to strike things a glancing blow. With practice, it’s possible to bash into the selected target at exactly the correct speed and angle so you emerge from the confrontation pointing at your destination. A bit like snooker on wheels.
The best targets for such assaults are people, as they’re mushy and don’t harm the bike’s bodywork or tracking. Car doors are good too because they buckle and bend long before anything on the super sturdy Suzi gives up the ghost.
So, after a brief flirtation on the Honda, I gave it to a colleague for the duration and I later saw him fairly regularly, on each occasion wearing a frightened look on his face and
Similar Books
Refuge From The Dead (Book 1): Lockdown
Joseph A. Coley
Ethans Fal
Dee Palmer
The Polka Dot Nude
Joan Smith
Betsey's Birthday Surprise
Malorie Blackman
All That Follows
Jim Crace
Stranger in the Dark: An Erotic Retelling of Cupid and Psyche
Gwendolyn Wilde
Shifter
Kailin Gow
Time Is Broken
Samuel Clark
Crow Boy
Maureen Bush
Lie Down With Lions
Ken Follett