MUNCHING MILES
S
ausages, gravy and
mash, thanks,” said
Kog, for about the
umpteenth time
on our ride. If there was a
deviation it was to swap
the sausages for rissoles. A
man of simple tastes when it
comes to food, our old mate
Peter ‘Kog’ Godfrey.
Once upon a time a young
Kog on his first bike, a
Yammy RD350, and me on
a very second-hand R90/6 –
the most expensive bike I’d
ever owned at almost $1900
- raced a Cessna through
the winding roads west of
Walcha during a club run.
We met the pilot later in a
pub on Thunderbolts Way.
Kog had sausages and gravy
that night too...
He’d seen us riding hard
and decided to fly low for
the fun of it. Lovely world
back then. Simple.
A few months later, Kog
caught the Triumph bug
and the RD was traded on
the first of many Poms.
He had a room in college,
the usual student cubicle
with a bed, desk and
cupboard. Kog slept under
the desk because every
other space was taken up
with Triumph bits. The
cleaning ladies refused to
go anywhere near his room.
A decade later, he’d made a
reputation fearlessly riding
old Triumphs to rallies all
over the country, writing
the rallies column for Tw o
Wheels and his own special
Rallyman magazine. He’d
put out a series of films on
rebuilding and maintaining
Triumphs,somethinghe
had to get good at given the
nature of the beast and the
distances he’d clock up.
I remember seeing Kog
sitting at a table outside
a pub in Victoria, pulling
down a busted bottom end,
saying he might have to
get a lift home to get the
ute this time. Or the day I
found him on the side of the
Pacific Highway south of
Kempsey looking down at
a big flap of alloy primary
shifting in and out as the
motor idled. “Nah, just a
busted clutch shaft. No
drama, been there before,
might need a lift but...”
Fi n a l ly, he bought a new
1700cc Thunderbird. Then
he bought another big ’Bird
because the first wore out
after a heap of miles and a
quick lap around Australiawithhisyoungestson,
James. You might have seen
the book, or the film? He’s
still got the old Triumphs,
of course, and a string of
puddles in the shed.
Triumph released the
new Speedmaster about
the time the second T’bird
weakened. Belt drives
don’t mix with dirt roads
and Kog’s farm is well
bush. Naturally, his 1200
had to be ‘Kogged’ with
ape hangers – as essential
as sausages and mash –
saddlebags and loud pipes,
but that’s not what I want
to take issue with.
See, I went on the
Speedmaster launch last
year (a thousand thankyous,
Mr Charris, and I’m sorry
about the incident at the
winery) but, like everybody
else, I figured it was abeaut bike built more for
inner-city posers. Little
tank, pretend carbies, rigid
rear-end style, surely the
average Speedmaster rider
would be into sunset blasts
with Deirdre to the deli?
Or maybe weekend parking
outside ‘Razor’s Beards and
Bristles’ to get the neck
shaved and the manbun
oiled while sipping a latte?
Wrong. Maybe Kog’s
not your usual Speedy
culprit but, after following
him through the Snowy
mountains where he was
more on pace racing Bill
on his Guzzi than me on
the LT and then cruising
close to the old tonne up
the New England, I’ve got
to reassess my Speedmaster
preconceptions. We did
over a thousand kays
the last day alone while
dodging bushfires across
NSW. Dirt roads, back
tracks, detours. Stopping
every couple of hundred
for fuel and a squirt of oil
on the chain, with every
second stop seeing a plate
of sausages and gravy. That
kind of day is why BMW
made LTs, Germanically
ugly but functional, surely
the diametrical opposite of
Pommy poser tackle?
Kog’s definitely one of a
kind. One of these days I’ll
tell you about what we call
‘the Kog touch’, where the
mere passing of a hand can
restore life to an otherwise-
dead motorcycle. Yeah, it’s
weird. But so is following a
bloody Speedmaster on full
noise all day too!Snags and Speedmasters are all Kog needs
Kog slept under the des k because
every other space was taken
up with Triumph bitsJohn Rooth
Roothless
MOTORCYCLE TRADER 121