Ural Gear-Up Review Let's do the time warp again

Once upon a time in Sydney, the late 1980's to be precise, there were two fabulous, yet doomed retail emporiums close to Central Station. One, W.F. Omodei, had been there since 1937 and sold just about everything ever made for motorcycles or motorcycling. A vast range of parts carefully stored in grease proof paper were stored away in a gloomy labyrinth of cardboard boxes lovingly tended by Mrs Omodei and her  Need any part for an English bike or something arcane such as a replacement revolving rain visor circa 1960 and eventually it would emerge from the murk of the past. It was a fantastic repository of bygone motorcycling. 

Incredibly, just around the corner was another shrine to another empire in terminal decline, in this case the U.S.S.R. - there was a Soviet Surplus Store that flogged Red Army surplus fur hats, badges, genuine cardboard leather belts, greatcoats, vodka, and anything else us decadent westerners would spend our hard-earned on. It was tat but kitsch, sadly Gorbachov was the death of it. 

Meanwhile in the next Sydney suburb of Redfern, Sabre Cycles had been importing Urals, complete with a bottle of vodka in/as the Medical Kit. The bikes were a mixture of cast iron and Bakelite (ask your grandparents). The quality control of the time passed 350 degree bearings made of a metallic approximate as "close enough". They were a Russian copy of a German copy of a 1937 Belgium original that brought a new meaning to the word 'agricultural'. They were in many ways a wheeled example of the state of the Soviet Union in 1990, antiquated, unwieldy yet enduring. The other imported Russian based vehicle of the time was the Lada Niva, the value of which could be reportedly doubled, according to some, by the simple expedient of filling the tank with fuel. This ignored the fact that the Niva had completed numerous Paris Dakar Rallys and other endurance events. 

I was loaned a Ural and sidecar when my Suzuki GS1100G and DJP sidecar was in for a service. There was a scheduled Breakfast Run to the Blue Mountains slated for that weekend, however the weather had turned abysmal. The early spring deluge over Saturday night turned into wild, wet and cold weather funneling off the Southern Tablelands. Trees were down, roads closed, rivers bursting their banks and minor flooding. As riding in the rain is something I enjoy I rode to the allotted starting point. The roads were empty, the Ural rattled along with a contemptuous air for the conditions, 'We have worse in Siberia". Alone I waited in the deluge. Nobody else turned up. 'Sod it', I thought, ' I'll do it anyway" and continued up the slippery back roads from Springwood to Katoomba. The only two vehicles I saw were Lada Nivas. 

Arriving at the cafe to, "They're here", I replied that I was certainly here but I couldn't answer for anyone else. "Oh, we have enough omelette mix for 50..." I tried my best but came up 47 short. Meanwhile the ride organisers were on the phone apologising saying that no-one would be mad enough to be attending today and could they please reschedule for the following weekend when their Italian thoroughbred machines would not feel overly threatened by climatic variables.

I clattered off descend to the flood plains, the gifted plastic bags of omelette mix gently leaking into my jacket and again the only vehicles seen were a Lada Niva and a Russian knock off of a Fiat 124

Written by:

Richard Beatty