There are few things that can ruin a good ride faster than the sight of dark clouds rolling in. The first few drops of rain on my visor are enough to make me mutter under my breath, because I know what’s coming. Riding a motorcycle in the rain isn’t just unpleasant—it’s a test of patience, skill, and endurance that strips away much of what makes riding joyful. I love motorcycles, but I hate riding in the rain.

The problem begins before the first kilometer is even covered. Getting geared up for a wet ride feels like suiting up for battle. Waterproof jacket, overpants, boot covers, gloves, neck warmer—by the time I’m done, I’m sweating and frustrated. And despite all the supposed “waterproof” claims, something always leaks. Whether it’s a trickle down the back of my neck or a soggy patch in one glove, the rain always finds a way in. Once that happens, you’re doomed to an uncomfortable, clammy ride where every gust of wind cuts through like a knife.

Then there’s visibility. Rain on a helmet visor is a nightmare. Wiping it with a gloved hand only smears it, turning the world ahead into a blurry haze. The cars ahead kick up spray, headlights glare through droplets, and even with a pinlock visor or anti-fog insert, condensation always seems to sneak in. You can’t see properly, but you have to ride on, tense and hyper-aware, because any mistake can cost you dearly.

The road itself becomes treacherous. Oil slicks rise to the surface, paint lines become slippery, and cornering turns into a cautious crawl. Every movement on the throttle, brake, or bars has to be smooth and deliberate. Gone is the thrill of leaning into a corner or feeling the road’s texture through the tyres. Instead, it’s a tightrope walk—every sense on high alert, every muscle rigid. The freedom of riding is replaced by survival mode.

Even stopping becomes a hassle. Pull up at a red light, and the rain hits harder. Water drips down your helmet, fills the grooves in your seat, and runs into your gloves. Cars idle beside you, warm and dry, their drivers glancing over with faint amusement. You can’t even scratch your nose without risking a flood of cold water down your sleeve.

I have always said that if you see me riding back the other way, that means it's raining up ahead. Of course with the guys that I ride with getting to the front, to ride back is the problem.

And then there is the cleanup afterward. The bike is filthy, covered in grime and road spray. Chain lube has washed off, brakes squeal, and the once-shiny paint looks dull and sad. My gear takes days to dry, smelling faintly of damp dog in the meantime.

I ride motorcycles because I enjoy the smell of grass, the heat bouncing back from the road, sitting in the sun at a cafe somewhere else. Rain takes that away. It turns a joyous ride into a chore, a dance into a struggle. Yes, there’s a certain pride in surviving a wet ride, but given the choice, I’ll always wait for the sun. Because when I think of motorcycles, I think of wind, speed, and laughter—not the miserable slap of rain on my visor.

Lets see, a CB350,a 750 GT Suzuki, an LC350, a Kawasaki KZ400, a Kawasaki 450 Bighorn.

Now there's an obvious caption for this one, but I wont 

Looking for one at the moment, if anyone knows of a complete bike languishing in a garage somewhere.

Had one of these, brand new $1325 with lights no less.

Damn bugs keep getting caught in the grill.

I think this tank is fucked.

 

And my Diavel swings out onto the start of the South Island ride

Another one I did , this one galvanized people however. You either liked the lights or you didn't. Me? I didn't give a toss.

Like all self respecting Guzzi's.

Some where a whole bunch of Katanas sit quietly......waiting

Always liked this image of Aaron as there was a 111 in the verge as well.

God Frank Thomas race boots. What a crack up.

When we were a bloody successful team. No shit days then. Oh wait, the very last day was a shit day. I recall that now. We raced all these bikes in a season for the same cost as 1 Ducati. Engines never came apart.

Pretty sure that this is Mike Hogan working on the 500.

Another shit day at the track. But learning my lessons, so that as time went on we had no shit days and lots and lots of success. Then they were all good days.

I used this bike as spare parts for my race bike. All to no avail, had a shit day. But just loved that GT. Beat two guys over the Paekakariki hill one weekend, they were on the latest and greatest Ducati sports bikes. Admittedly I did get the drop and by the time I got it home, it was leaking oil from every single gap. Haha. That was when I was fast. But Ohh that bike. Sold it to a guy in Michigan. The guy that bought it complaine4d that the key wasn't with the bike ( I swore it was), he got right pissed off. We stopped talking after that. Then years later I opened a drawer on an old tool box and there was a Snap on Torque wrench ( I thought that it had been stolen) and the key to the GT. Just goes to show you shouldn't ought to smoke when you are doing important shit haha. As a follow up I sent him the key but never heard back from him. And I apologised to the guy I thought had stolen the wrench.

Why dont we have shops like this here in NZ?

I just love this view. There's just something about it

There's just something about a big fire, meat cooking and mates brewing.

Here's that tank again. The best ever in my humble opinion

Been to a few long lunches in the past years. Always a great time and great meeting friends again. Cant wait for the next.

The nicest tank ever made

Well that's that till the next time. Had lots of comments from the last one about being in your garage, so thanks for the comments and thoughts, it's nice to know that I'm not alone in my thinking. So cheers and enjoy this one.