WIMA Victoria: Trompy's Tribulations

Trompy's Tribulations

Trompy Let me introduce myself. Trompy's the name, and motorcycling is my game. I'm writing to encourage all you pillions and 'motorcycle widows' to get onto two wheels and stay there!

I've been riding the throbbing beasts for about 20 years and in that time I've been ridden in a number of 'scenes': on a very uncool ag bike chasing cattle around South Gippsland; motorcross (pillion mono competitions were my specialty); outlaw clubs (as the obligatory sissy-bar emblem), middle class motorcycling (on my beloved Beemer). Now at last I think I've found my true self. A few months back, thanks to the generosity of my 'sugar daddy', I got myself a gorgeous magenta and white 1100cc Honda Shadow, American Classic Edition, and does she go!

"How did I end up with such a beast of a bike?' I hear you cry. After leaving the prison service (and the uncool ex-husband), I scored a motorbike-friendly man and landed a job in Community Corrections in Dandenong. This was the perfect time get back on a bike. I'd decided to spend a few grand on a second-hand BMW, but while checking out bike shops I sat on a Yamaha Royal Star and was sold on the cruiser style and comfort. As the orange paint job was not to my liking, I started the big job of trying to decide what was.

In my new job I met up with Judy Wright (another REAL woman) who was my supervisor and soon friend. Judy escorted me after work to see Reg at Jeffries Sales and Service in Ferntree Gully. The Shadows lined up in the window were definitely lovely machines, but looking through the door out into the driveway, I spied a '96 demo model Shadow with after-market pipes, sissy bar, and so on, and I knew it had to be mine. I had no idea at that stage what size engine it had, or whether I would be able to ride it, but it was calling me. Who says you can't buy a bike because you like the colour!

They fired her up and in my excitement I grabbed the mobile phone and called my man—Dave Sneddon, aka 'sugar daddy extraordinaire'—and held the phone down near the pipes screaming "Listen to it babe, I've found my bike, get down here NOW". Needless to say, he arrived in no time and the rest is history.

'Maggie - the Magenta Motorcycle' as she is now known, took a little getting used to. The forward foot peg position was one of the most difficult things, but I now enjoy the swing of my legs as I take off at the lights. It's a far more manageable bike than my old R65, even though it is almost twice the engine capacity of any other bike I've ever ridden. The low centre of gravity and rider's comfortable position (a saddle any average thirty-something woman would die for) make it a joy on the road. Sometimes manoeuvrability is a little difficult, but that's a small price to pay for the joy of riding her.

I am proud and a little embarrassed to say I have only dropped my bike twice—both times she was almost stationary and I literally placed her down on the ground. One of of those occasions I was turning right out of my driveway, following Dave on his 1997 750cc Shadow (appropriate, don't you think, in these time of female motorcyclist liberation!). I wasn't patient enough to let my beast warmup for very long, and stalled it as I was turning. As most of you can probably relate, I felt it go past the point of no return and lowered it as gracefully as I could, given the situation. Dave was watching me in his mirror and when I called for help he yelled "It's your bike, you pick it up". I was furious and in a fit of anger hauled the bike back upright—a demonstration of the power and strength of a woman's wrath. I'm now glad Dave didn't help me, because I know that if the situation occurs again, I won't have to beg for help from passers by.

The behaviour of (predominantly) men at traffic lights is usually amusing, though it can be frightening at times. Recently I was on my way home from work and split lanes, pulling up at the lights beside a P-plater in a red Commodore. As we took off, he flew past me (with at least a millimetre to spare), screaming abuse as he went. I pulled up beside him again at the next set of lights, I lifted my visor, smiled sweetly, and asked if my getting in front of him was the source of his annoyance. Judging by his impolite response, it was. Hard line Harley riders are not exactly welcoming when I barrel up beside them at the lights either. A sneer is the usual response. The acknowledging nod given to each other by bike riders is rarely forthcoming, though my being female is not the likely cause, rather it is because cruisers don't fit into the Harley or sports bike scenes.

Recently I won a free sitting for a photo shoot—you know, one of those promos to get you into the studio and spend mega bucks on the prints. I asked if I could bring my bike and pose with it. The photographer asked me what kind of bike it was, but appeared confused when I gave the description. Seems he thought I was talking about a pushbike! We managed to get the beast into the studio, albeit after some difficult manoevring. Unfortunately, we weren't able to get the entire bike into the shots, but even I have to admit that the photos turned out pretty good—this is the glamour side of motorcycling, girls!

It's been nice jawing with you. See you at Café Scooterini for the social get together! Oh, and if you've got access to the net, check out the WIMA Vic website which will soon have one of my glamour-puss shots on it!

Tanya Tromp