The words "Gran Turismo" never seemed more apt. Click for a larger image

For those of you who missed out on signing up for the 2011 Pipeburn Meat Burn & Burn (it's this weekend, guys!) or for the rest of you overseas types, we've been sending out regular updates on the day to all those who put up their hands. In the last one we mentioned that we'd be riding on dirt for a small part of the day. Cue about 27 frantic questions from some of the attendees sweating bullets about riding their bikes off-road. I duly diffused the panic (hello Mike if you're reading) and went on my merry way, which on this particular day involved shooting the beautiful Guzzi you see before you. Imagine then the internal chuckles that I enjoyed when I asked the owner of this 250kg (550 lbs) beauty, the super cool and most friendly David Ottesen, how she handled. "Beautifully. I even take her off-road; she's great fun to ride on the dirt." Damn straight, brother.

Can you introduce yourself?

Dave Ottesen. I am an Aircraft Mechanic (I detect a trend here - Andrew), I work on Helicopter gas turbine engines. I live in the Wollindilly Shire about 90ks south of Sydney, great country roads and really suited to the Guzzi.

I always love finding out what people do for a living. Most people find their chosen occupation boring as bat poo, mainly because they have to do it for nearly every day of the week for 10 hours a day (or more). But sometimes, from an outsiders perspective some jobs just sound so friggin' cool. Take Mark Wolf for example, he is the owner and builder of this fine Suzuki T500 cafe racer. I asked him the question I ask most people whose bike we are about to feature: "Tell us a little about yourself" in which he replied "Nothing remarkable about me. By day I'm just a licensed aircraft mechanic who builds turbine jet engines for Rolls-Royce." What? Just an aircraft mechanic who builds jet engines for Rolls Royce? Is it just me, or does that sound awesome? But then again, I'm not the one doing it everyday. It is safe to say that when it comes to rebuilding motorcycle engines, we think Mark can probably do a pretty solid job. "I've rebuilt a few wrecked sportbikes over the years but the T500 is my first attempt at any sort of vintage or cafe project" says Mark.

Ever thought about buying a vintage bike. Of course you have! You know you want to. Hell, who doesn't? In my perfect world (or mind), a character test, job interview, police interrogation, or court hearing would all involve the same simple question - "do you now, have you ever, or will you at some point in the future own a vintage motorcycle?" "Yes," you say? Well, you've got the job/passed the test/are a free man despite the seemingly insurmountable evidence involving the hookers, jumping castle, and those fluorescent rubber clown masks.

But let's cut to the chase. You're afraid to own one, aren't you? AFRAID! Like a big baby, you are! Oh look at you with your cool 80s motorbike and your iPhone and your streaming movies on demand! You are soft, is what you are. Spoilt by too many modern conveniences. What you need is to get back to you roots - to get your hands dirty and to connect, really connect, with what it means to be alive and free. Paul d'Orléans knows exactly what it's like to be a real man. Hell, he's got more man in his little finger than most of you have in your entire, pudgy, mobility-scooter-bound bodies. He's not afraid; he's got a ton of them. Hundreds! So us big babies here at Pipeburn decided to ask Paul how we could man-the-hell-up and get ourselves a vintage bike without all the pain, breakdowns and wasted time. God, we're soft.

Ask yourself this question: Would your wife or girlfriend let you use her designer leather handbag to make a seat from? Well, Filip Bardy, the Slovakian owner and builder of this sweet GS1000 managed to convince his girlfriend to donate her handbag for a "higher purpose". You see, there aren't a lot of motorcycles or bike parts in downtown Slovakia. So Filip had to be resourceful, and if that meant chopping up his misses' 2010 spring/summer collection, then that's what he had to do. To be honest, black leather was soooo last season, anyway. 

Sammy the CB100 is the creation of Ace builder Darren Brown. Sammy is described by Darren as "more of a mascot than motorcycle, more art than machine, more Honda CR than CB... and it runs as well as it looks".

Sammy is a stunning looking little CB with it's custom tank and paint scheme, shiny brass petcock, custom made clip-ons and classic racing style seat.

"When we unloaded it we couldn't wait to start the little beast and give it a short run. Turn on the fuel, a little choke on the new carby, flick the switch and a lazy swing on the kickstarter... There was an immediate and eager "brrappp" from that beautiful alloy muffler, a few moments of fast idle, then a blip on the throttle to unleash all the rampaging horses. Hmmm, definitely an open-face helmet sort of bike... T-shirt and shortie gloves will do for this first quick run."  

Capable of true Ton-up speeds (Onlyl just! Top speed is a claimed 120kph) design considerations like the period style headlight add to Sammy's Cafe Racer styling. The standard speedo was retained and sits atop a polished top yoke and custom warning light cluster

"We did a quick turn out front of Maranello Motorsport, just to show those Ferrari guys a thing or two, then back up the street. Yes, all five gears present and correct and Sam proves man enough to haul my ageing arse back to the shop."

Sammy now takes pride of place at the front doorstep of Darrens workshop, mid-life cycles where he draws constant attention and gets plenty of curious bodies in the doors.

Darren's work is generally focused on bigger (faster) bikes but Sammy is his show stopper. It's always great to see a bike that wouldn't usually get a second look turn more heads than a hot blonde.

Mid-Life Cycles will be piecing together a limited run of Sammy replicas which are available on special order. Contact Mid-life Cycles for details.

Sourced from Just Bikes.

Throttle open, chin on the tank and your parallel twin rocketing you from point a to point z.

My Dad. Knows absolutely nothing about motorbikes bar their mechanical basics and (in his eyes at least) their inherent danger – that and whatever his still-sharp 60 year-old senses tell him. So picture the vista when I roll up to my parent’s farm for Mother’s Day on a brand new Kawasaki W800. Of course he knows that the last bike I reviewed was Zero’s brave but flawed Zero S, and he briefly casts his eyes over this new one as I rev it up to give him a listen to the engine. There’s a moment of deep contemplation, much like a Kung Fu master might do, then he calmly pronounces, “Another electric bike, is it?” I laugh out loud. An electric bike? “Come on! Just look at the thing,” I blurt, pointing out the two massive pipes hanging off the back. “I know it doesn’t look like an electric bike,” he replies. “But it sure does sound like one…”