Well, the 2011 Sydney Motorcycle (and Scooter) Show was an interesting affair – not merely because Ducati unveilled their new – soon to be world conquering superbike …. the 195 horsepower (145 kilowatts) Panigale 1198.  Nor was it that BMW showed their new 1,300 cc six cylinder monster (which, let’s be clear about this, is roughly the size of a four seater lounge …. but not as easy to move through Sydney traffic).

There were two highlights of the show – the first is this lovely hand made carbon fibre miracle – the Spartan V.  Why the Spartan ?  Because the designers and builders (aircraft engineers) Dad comes from Sparta.

This one above is truly an amazing car.  It’s a prototype, fully compliant with Australian automotive race car design – and when it goes into production it will cost about $90k.

Considering that the Spartan can thrash a Ferrari with less than half of the prancing horse’s power and just two cylinders – compared with the Ferrari’s big V8 – and with the Ferrari costing about five times as much, that’s not a mean feat.  The reason it can perform this racing miracle is straightforward – power to weight ratio.

The Spartan’s engine is a Ducati twin 1198 cc – a relatively simple but awesome donk with massive grunt – well-used by Ducati to win numerous Superbike World Championships.  But here’s the trick … (note ellipsis, grammar police).  The Spartan weighs just 300 kilograms (not counting a fat arsed geriatric driver).  Now considering that the bike from which the engine comes weighs 173 kilos, and  the roll-cage in the car must meet minimum crash strength standards, it’s amazing how the engineers can add a body, two extra wheels and race tires, steering gear and massive brakes for so little weight gain.

The Spartan can go from rest to 100 kph in under three seconds and pull up well before the driver’s lunch.

This machine is put together with such care and precision that it’s a joy to look at.  The design and craftsmanship is sublime.  I wish the men from Sparta all success for their baby rocketship.

But wait… there’s more.

Many modern bikes are huge capacity massive monsters that seem to be more like furniture or motor homes to me.  I’m a simple(ton) guy with simple tastes and I am attracted to the industry trend to what is referred to as “naked bikes” – stripped of all that fibreglass gee-gaw and gimmickry like bluetooth communications and heated handlebars   – down to the basics – engine, wheels, tank, seat, brakes, lights – all one needs to belt around and have a good time.

There were some pleasant naked offerings from Triumph and Moto Guzzi – as well as a thin slice of the massive baby-boomer brand reminiscent of chrome plated aircraft carriers – Harley Davidsons.

But best of all was a bike – near and dear to my own heart – from the days when the Beatles were still in short pants in primary school.  It was a display bike to attract attention to a book-selling fundraising lady (Alana) who was raising money in support of research into the rare genetic condition called Batten’s disease.  Batten’s disease is a heart-breaking motor-neurone degenerative condition that claims the lives of children sufferers usually before they are ten.

The bike was … a 1954 BMW 250 single – beautifully restored.  And it caught my eye because I have one too… not restored and not running since about 1970.  I bought it in that condition in 1980 from a chap who lived a couple of doors up the road from my place (at the time) in Wagga.  Here’s the real deal:

Astute observers will notice that this bike lacks a chain – and as far as I’m aware distinguishes itself by being the smallest shaft-drive motorcycle.  More than that, the wild, post-war austerity Germans added knobs to the frame for the attachment of a sidecar.

This one has the sidecar knobs on the right – suggesting that it is an import from America.

Alana quietly let me in on a secret that I already knew “The owner says it’s a bit of a pig – he’s inclined to get off and walk it up hills”.  The bike came about when BMW (who had been making superb 500cc flat twin bikes went for parsimony and basically rooted a beautiful engine design by chopping the flat twin in half, stuffed the natural engine harmonics of the flat twin and turned the surviving cylinder into the vertical plane – also not helping the air cooling much).

Such is life.  But since this little BM was made for my first birthday, it’s a nostalgic favourite – and the only other one I’ve seen in the flesh in over 30 years of being interested in bikes.