Hey, another "H" man. Check out "H1 frames" in topics, you missed a decent discussion. I'll be building an H1 cafe bike, probably next winter as I've had some set-backs this year, but I look forward to trying one as I've never ridden one. In the meantime, here's a poem about triples that I posted on the Kawi board, and the USCRA line a while back:
DEATH UPON THE HIGHWAY
The night is pierced by a banshee scream, multiplied by three,
with induction yowls from carburetors, wide open in the breeze.
A bony hand holds the throttle, no need to pin the stick,
the carburetors are slideless, he only holds the grips.
The bike he rides is fearsome, a two-stroke straight from hell,
the lives it's claimed are many,all who have fallen beneath its spell.
A finger of light probes the darkness, and reflects back upon the face, of death upon the highway, lives lost without a trace.
Wind rams into his eye-sockets, and whistles out his ears,
his robe snaps behind him, the sound of hell and fear.
The smell he leaves in his wake, the smell of the dusty grave,
is mixed with the scent of Castrol, a scent the pos-sessed crave.
This messenger from hell, the rider who's face is death,
has arisen to avenge his slanderers, to steal away mockers breath.
As the triple screams through the darkness, tires howl through the curves, his face smiles behind the bars; he's dead, he has no nerves.
Up ahead in the blackness, a faint glimmer of a light,
a shimmer of a reflector, a rider in the night.
And now death grows hungry, blood lust knaws upon his soul,
he smells an ecologist, another clean-air four-stroke ass-hole.
He hears the sound of loud exhausts, as he closes up the gap,
some pathetic insecure, who's ego feeds on the sound of crap.
Simple as his engine, minimal parts he needs,
death hunches behind the bars, and puts spurs to his steed.
Rain falls softly on the fresh grave; a new member, a new face,
Of death upon the highway, lives lost without a trace.
HEADSKULL
Welcome to the dark-side!!!!!!!!!