Putting Classic Bikes to the "T-junction Test"

In my day job, writing for a range of newspapers and magazines, if I'm reviewing a car I subject it to two tests aimed at assessing how other road users feel about the motor I'm driving. Automotive journalist Iain Macauley explores the topic further.    

One is the "T-junction" test, the other the "lane change" test. With T-junctions I want to see how long it is before I'm let into traffic; with the lane change test I'll deliberately find a rush-hour jam and indicate to change lanes in crawling traffic when things are at their most fraught - and see how accommodating fellow road users are. 

I decided to try a variation upon those scenarios on three of my bikes - a modern-ish super-scooter, my big old Honda CB1000 Super Four - 30+ years old, but which has the sorts of looks that could be modern - and my ancient, 1972, Yamaha DT250: clearly an old-ish classic in anybody's eyes. 

I also wore as close to period riding gear as I possess for each to ensure the full effect in the eyes of drivers - hi-vis on my super scooter, black leather jacket on the Honda, and off-road gear, including an old Barbour jacket over modern under armour on the DT.   

Yes, I did the T-junction test, but instead of the lane change test I did what commuter-time bikers do: lane carved and worked my way to the front when traffic stopped at lights. 

Not terribly scientific, but representing reality. And I chose a major-city, two-lanes-each-way commuter route in the rush hour for the experiment. 

The results were eye-opening, and may, of course, vary according to a range of circumstances at the time of taking that rush hour ride. 

Ironically, in hi-vis on my Aprilia 500 super scooter I may as well have been invisible - invisible in a sense I was just another accepted component of the moving rush-hour traffic blob. Other road users seemed to let me fend for myself, mainly not making any special effort to create space if I was lane carving, nor, again in the main, not objecting if I threaded my way to the front of the queue by whatever route. 

A couple of bloody-minded drivers tried to block my way, then, upon me enquiring as to their thinking, said words to the effect questioning why I should "break the law" and sneak through the gaps when everybody else was waiting in line.  

Lane carving, by the way, assuming it's done with consideration and caution, is not "breaking the law". However, the bigger the city, the more sticky the jam, the more accepted it seems to be. 

As for the T-junction test: not a hope of being invited out into traffic on the scooter: just another competing commuter... 

On the Honda, admittedly an intimidating-looking and sounding bike, and with my sunshine-reactive visor darkened to the full-extent of legality, there was an entirely different feel. 

Without displaying even the slightest aggression in lane carving on my beast, probably helped by the occasional blip of the throttle, for some stretches it had drivers creating lane-carving space for me, sometimes leaping out of the way. I think the darkened visor helped - I'm sure a psychologist could explain that - but "scary biker" kept leaping into my mind. 

But I was certainly noticed: that's a key element of bike-riding safety. 

Sometimes the sheer bulk of the bike meant squeezing between rows of traffic was difficult, and as I was forced to slow and then stop alongside a Bentley I saw the driver's window glide down. I braced myself for a pompous earful, regardless of the sound-deadening effect of my ear plugs. 

Window down I could see he was mid-50s, shirt-and-tied: "Love the bike. I could tell what it was. I've got an FJ1300 for when the weather's OK and the traffic's bad." He wanted to talk more but the traffic started to move 

As for the T-junction test, frankly I think I frightened people into letting me in to traffic on the Honda. Although again I think the dead-eye look of the darkened visor certainly helped. 

So, to the DT250. I like it as a traffic bike. It's light, slim, but not actually that high for an off-roader, and deceptively quick. It's the nimbleness, and surprising turn of speed from standstill that make it great for rush-hour stuff. Brakes not so, but that's the '70s for you. Teaches you anticipation, though. 

Being a two-stroke, and with ancient exhaust baffle well-and-truly beyond effective, it can be heard a mile off, but, even so, it doesn't sound as offensive as whiney modern two-stroke commuter bikes and scooters. That does seem to make people notice it as an unfamiliar sound. 

Low gear, revs high-ish, engine cylinder fins resonating, whole package ringing-dinging away, drivers look, and, largely, after recognising it as being somebody's fun machine rather than a competitor in the rat run, get out of the way when I'm lane carving. 

Not that they need to. Other than the occasional awkwardly-heighted door mirror, it slips through gaps limited only by my knees. 

And as for the T-junction test, the dozen or so times I tied it resulted in 100% of occasions being let out, some - probably in-the-know - drivers all but rolling out the red carpet. 

So, while invisible scooters may get you through the traffic, how much more fun is it to commute on something classic and fun, and, judging by my unscientific test, with far more co-operation from other road users. 

Like experts say: use your classic, and don't be afraid of that use being the everyday kind of use. 

And it'll be smiles almost all round.