Virgin on the ridiculous

You may recall last year I sorted and fettled an original Yamaha YZF-R6. I fitted braided lines, refitted and sorted the calipers and synchronised the carbs on my little classic crutch rocket: now it was time to see how all this worked.

My first impression of the R6 was that she was deeply uncomfortable. I am not bendy any more and my gut and the petrol tank were vying for space; with my blubber losing the battle. My neck started to ache after a few miles as did many of my joints unused to the crouched seating position. On an open road with bends I could see around, I was beginning to ‘get’ the little Yam; she handled like a dream until we hit congested roads. This bike soon proved to me that she was not suitable for clogged-up modern public roads: what this bike needs is a race track.

I live 25 miles away from the famous Castle Combe Racing Circuit that has a couple of bike track days a month. The circuit has stringent