With floors cold from a 4 degree night it was a lazy start. The aroma of those finely ground beans; the essential warming Colombian arabica coffee brewed by a departing Mrs. D an hour previously as she readied for work provided the impetus for Desmo to peel back the eye lids and allow the muted morning tones to engage the retina. Ever have one of those days when what was planned seems not relevant to your mood at that time. This was one of those times; the day was cold even by September standards. I looked out of the window as the magpies bathed in the birdbath then shook the excess water onto the others staged for their turn on its edge. There was a zephyr of northerly direction that moved the leaves ever so slightly. It seemed like a perfect day for a ride through the Adelaide hills, ahhh those magic seams of blacktop that meander their way through the labyrinth of tiny hamlets, with bush and orchards budding with the future crops as spring brings forth its welcoming rays of a sun heading slowly south.


I rummaged the cupboard for the muesli flakes and poured the remaining coffee into a mug, sitting at the table with thoughts of chicanes and the sound of a staintune mimicked to the mind. Yes after a heady day on the MV a tactical ride on Mrs. D’s yellow curvy seemed in order. I lazed around for the peak hour time to pass then readied for the subsequent hours to come with leathers, boots on and helmet in hand the shed door was opened and the curvy wheeled to the street. The usual pre-ride checks and warming of the engine complete it was east towards the slate coloured hill face.


Once past the initial incline the cooler air was prevalent in the valleys and shadows mottled the road ahead. Traffic was light with only one hindrance in the form of a refrigerated delivery truck who was taking the whole road to make haste. This had me somewhat frustrated with the little twin not having that huge power reserve one becomes accustom to in the mille’s. Knowing the road is an advantage in that there was a good straight ahead that would be the point of disposal for this pesky road user. So it was down a gear into the tight sweeper with curvy’s tacho on six and a half grand before the straight peering up through the inside of the hulking obstruction akin to an Imodium plugged dysentery sufferer. The road looked clear, throttle on as Desmo swung out of the apex and a flash of high beam to let our truck driver know of the SV’s intention. Well that wormy driver first tries the old flatten it trick with the tell tale cloud of black smoke then realizes that the yellow peril is already approaching the cab, with this he drifts the truck across the white line??? What is it with these so called professional drivers that can’t stand to see the tail light of another vehicle leaving them with their limp penis in one hand and a can of red bull in the other? It was so long looser kicking the shifter up one notch and tipping in to the left before a series of apexes that lead one to the other side of the summit. Running down into Summertown was considered but a quick left at Woods Hill was the best option as I could see the 1030 STA bus ambling its way ahead.


Woods Hill is a great little back road that has a few driveways to watch out for and the odd stretch of gravel to contend with but comprises of nice chicanes and moderate sweepers that keep the bike on the pipe and mind on the road in an engaging manner. This ends with a few options I chose to go straight on fast track to Ashton then onto the Marble hill / Montacute road. Another great run down to Newton consisting of plenty to keep the yellow peril leaned over and revving freely in the upper range. You sort of have to feed the little twin a bit to keep it lively and it was a super run along the creek flat of Black Hill.



From there it was scout across to Athelstone and the Gorge road; this is a formidable road with sheer rock faces, tight corners and fantastic views with bitumen that allows for some good on the pipe riding. Bridge to bridge proved a hoot with no obstructions it was a blast that had the descent into Cudlee Creek coming up in record time. To Lobie or not to Lobie was the question and having had a dream run thus far a round trip back to Cudlee via a blast up the mad mile was in order. The yellow peril in its stock form was proving a credible hills machine. Its light weight and comfortable ride position was making the tighter stuff really enjoyable. With Suzuki’s older middle weight twin relishing the work out in the torque band and the predicable usable power delivery while not the type to wrench the arms from ones shoulder sockets provides enough to keep all but the most psychopathic rider happy. The round trip saw Desmo turning right this time past Cudlee Creek heading for the Amberlight our bike mecca in the hills. A seamless run up the Lobie road brought about the Fox Creek road diversion and a chance to open the throttle on the longer sweepers before for a run up hill with some tighter apexes to cold store road.


Once on cold store road the Orchards in early bloom flashed by and Lenswood was approached from the west where at the Tee junction the left hand turn brought the 650 happily on to the Lobie road. With the throttle pegged and bike flowing through the next five or so kilometers of majestic corners straights and one or two fast chicanes the final coast into Lobie and the Amberlight for a chiko roll and coffee was well earned.





Having arrived there was a couple of fellow enthusiasts enjoying coffee and a feed out the front one owned a latest model CRB100RR the other a parallel twin Ducati. Talk of today’s riding was the order of the day and as it was we had all reveled in the low traffic playground much to our delight. After some idle banter and letting the consumed product settle most were set to head back onto the fun zone. With CBR dude first to leave and the Ducati not far behind I sat and drained the last of my coffee just as a couple of older patrons rolled up on a 660 scooter and K100 Beemer. We had a chat about the ride and where they had been spending most of their day on the more sedate touring type of roads with a ride out to the river land and back.


With that we all abandoned the front tables for the excitement of the road with the Beemer and Scoot turning left for the straighter roads and me straight on to the thirty odd kilometers of twisties that we call the Lobie road. I had enough time to venture along a little ridden tack that would bring me to a set of narrow switch backs that otherwise would take me all of 45 minutes to reach by bitumen sort of a last blast that would have me back in town just before the pre peak hours rush. Yeerr why do we call it the peak hours rush? As it is more like the peak hour crawl.


Any way the track was marred by a tree that had been the victim of our severe weather over the past weeks. So that was the end of that little distraction and test of the curvys ability to handle all you can throw at it. Returning to the main road and heading west it was a great closing ride through the ranges to the hills face and an enjoyable day for a few that ventured from the city to the cool dry roads on spring time playground.



Desmo.