What's a Kookaloo?

[moonrunnah]

its in the urban dictionary
i found it a little while ago as i was wondering as well

[scharding]

I have experienced this verbal phenominah in the past week since I've brought an '86 FJ back from the grave. It had been sitting in heated storage for over 10 years and with the verbal help and guidance of the great members of this forum it has roared back to life in a big way!!  I am loving this bike more and more each day!!

So here's to the FJ!!!!  KOOKALOO !!!!!! 

Steve

[tmkaos]

Hi everyone,

I just had to share this with you all.. Just bought a spare bulb kit off a guy who toured Europe on a FJ a few years ago.. We were waxing lyrical about the FJ's on emails when he sent me this gem.. I in turn introduced him to Kookaloo and it's many uses.. Anyway have a read..

I miss my FJ – rode all over the UK and France and Spain on it. Wonderful things! "Accelerate with the relentless inevitability of a falling bomb"...  man and pillion on FJ, hurtling up the Pyrenees, feels a bit of a bump halfway up, thinks nothing of it, gets to the top and the pillion looks round and tells him they've snagged a TOUR BUS on the cargo net and dragged it all the way back up the mountain...

Nick


Don't you reckon thats our FJ's?

Made me smile.. I can see it happening!

Kookaloo!!!

James

[teeeeeceeeee]

Thought i'd share my "Kookaloo" moment from long ago.......................



7.30am Sunday........Here it is, finally. The corner I had been searching for all morning appeared out of the distance, among the gum trees on the other side of the looming, dilapidated timber bridge. I was hard on the brakes now, trying to wash off the extra 100 klicks I was carrying before I had to negotiate the loose rickety timbers of the old bridge.

My bike had been on song all morning and was responding brilliantly to my carb overhaul. She started life as an '84 FJ1100 and was by now repainted in a gorgeous metallic red and white. My weight pitched forward as I grabbed the front brake lever with even more pressure, forcing the four spots to work hard and I found myself caressing the bars to correct a little shimmy. The rear tyre danced and bounced all over the old country road as it was almost weightless under the brutal deceleration.

Kicking the gear lever back to second I lined up a long weaving plank on the bridge and opened the taps on the heavy throttle. Four butterfly valves snapped open in four carburettors and fed a bucket load of fuel and air to a very healthy motor. The big FJ violently wrenched me forward in a relentless, overwhelming surge of raw unadulterated power as the tacho needle ripped around the dial way past the stock 9500 rpm redline to bury its nose in 11,000 rpm territory. My teeth clenched, my body tense, I am revelling in the sheer intoxicating power and trying to hold her in a straight line as the rear tyre claws for traction all the way from 40 to 100 kmh.

The bridge is gone in an instant and I ram home third gear. Again the rear end snakes around under wheelspin but it is easier to control this time as my road speed is sufficiently high to offer a modicum of stability in a straight line. My chest is right over the tank now and I'm hunched low, waiting .....................

A mere two seconds pass and with the tacho needle buried in the red again I lock home fourth at 160 and peel off into the fast sweeping right hander that is sign posted at 100. I become gentle with the throttle now, rolling it to wide open in a controlled movement as my right boot grinds the tar in a graceful dance. Heeled right over I hold a perfect line through the long corner and the front end gets really light as I stand her back up under full power at 190.

Directly in front of me is my goal. A four kilometre long, slightly undulating country straight with a pretty mountain backdrop. I had spent the last few months waiting for this moment.

The bike feels good .............. Check.
No other vehicles ................. Check.
No obstructions on the road ..... Check.

The big FJ is screaming under me as I wring every last hundred revolutions out of her in fourth and lay almost prone across the tank. A trickle of sweat rolls down my spine under the leathers even though I don't feel hot.

Fifth rams home at 235. things really start to get a little weird now. Tunnel vision creeps in and the edges of the road cease to exist. I can't blink. I dare not risk a look at the instruments as I will cover too much ground when I take my eyes off the road. With my heart in my mouth I look anyway...........255.

An eternity passes and I chew up another 1000 meters before I risk another glance ........... 265 and the speedo needle is rapidly approaching its end.

The wind noise is deafening. It assaults my ears like demented demons screaming in pain right next to me. It is so loud in fact that it is drowning out the big 1100 mill that is wailing away right under me at 10,000+ rpm.

Time has meaning now. I can see the end of the straight around 2000 meters away coming at me fast. Every muscle, every fibre of my body a piece of hardened steel, I wait................
the vibration is amazing now and has reached a level that makes focusing quite difficult.

1500 meters.

All the hair on the back of my neck are standing up.

1000 meters.

Foolishly I glance at the instruments and it takes an eternity to focus on the dials. The speedo needle is past 270 and the tacho reads off at just over 11,000 rpm.

400 meters ....... OH FUCK.

Instantly I button off the throttle and I am pitched forward into the big mushy pillow of air.

300 meters.

Hard on the brakes now, so hard in fact that I dare not squeeze any harder.

200 meters.
Fuck, I'm not going to stop in time. I sit bolt upright at 200 and not protected by the tiny FJ fairing I turn into a human parachute with such violence that it almost tears my hands from the bars.

100 meters.

Down to 170 kmh now and still hard on the brakes. This is going to be close, the tight left-hander is only posted at 80.

20 meters.

The rear end is chattering like a maniac and wandering around like a drunk as I desperately wash off speed. My wrists have a horrible ache. 140 kmh.
I tip her in from way out wide and sweep right down as far I as dare to lean the big girl over. The tyres are on the limit now. I pass the apex and feed in some throttle in third to keep her steady on the way out.

MADE IT !

Pull over.
Light cigarette.................................then another.
It's 20 minutes until I stop shaking.


"Kookaloo" will do that to you !


TeeCee (Memories from 2005)

P.S. - who remembers these:

[teeeeeceeeee]

oops - photo didn't load............try again:

[Harvy]

I think I still have the originals on my PC somewhere TeeeCeee.

Harvy

[baldy3853]

Teeeeceeee great read had me on the edge  about 210 for me on both the fj and the FJR. thats fast enough to scare the begesus out of me  especially when u see the frigging cowboys around here.
Baldy

[nurse]

Whilst on the subject of explaining strange but brilliant terminology, what is SoCal all about?

i get the southern california abbreviation link, but its also tagged onto other things like 'manners' and 'vibe' and 'attitude'.

Is it an association thing about the city you come from, like in Britain we call the people from that part of the country t**sers!

[terryk]

Socal covers a lot of ground.

San Diego County - The true SoCal. Perfect weather, endless great mountain and desert and canyon and high desert roads. Not many cops. Bike almost 365 days a year and mayber 10 or 14 days a year where you get any rain. Our only weather complaint, and it is really lame, june gloom or May Grey whcih cuts down on sunshie in the morning and afternoon.

Orange County - with few exceptions and notable and great exceptions - over crowded, San Diego with fake boobs, Disney Land, too much violence, too many cars and people.

LA County - Orange County with many more sets of fake boobs, Hollywood, far too much violence, far too many cars and people, more culture and better restaurants.

SoCal Attitude -
* live and let live, do not tell others what to do and do what you like as long as you do not hurt anyone or be a dick.
* Tell everyone that SoCal actually sucks so they do not want to move here.
* Motorcycle around just about any day of the week and week of the year.
* Go from sea level (next to the beach really and 100 feet from the ocean)  to 5,300 feet to below sea level and return in a day getting back in time for a beer well    before sunset which will be pretty amazing,
* ride a two hour trip up and down the coast any time you want,
* Sunny and warm most all year long,
* split lanes legally
* Hike anytime, lots of trails
* Go to a Mountain lake and fish
* Swim in theocean
* Enjoy the outdoors and the weather and the wildlfe which is all around us, Dolphins, Whales, seals, sealions,  Coyotes, Mountain Lions, all sorts of snakes and birds and weasels (animal) and varmints and rodents.

[nurse]

Oh stop it TerryK! why would i want to leave cold, wet, overpriced under resourced and undersized ol blighty and move to all that!  Just one more thing, exactly how many orange counties are there in the US.  Either you have some really lazy town planners when it comes to naming ceremonies or somebody loves the copy and paste facility!! i know i went to orange county near florida and dont get me started on the orange county choppers lot!! 

[yamahopper]

Kookaloo is what you don't get driving a big v-twin. It is the that wild feeling you get while accelerating and feeling the front tire get light and drift a little. It is the the peak of the orgasmic riding experience.
If I remember correctly it was a New Zealand or Australian expression of extreme joy.

[Goetz]

kookaloo

stress relief at the twist of the throttle

[fj johnnie]

My wife coined another FJ related term. Each time my truck comes in the driveway with another bike she calls me a JINKWAD!!!

[Lotsokids]

kookaloo

stress relief at the twist of the throttle

Yes. Here it is... captured in video (rolling start).

[Hasse]

Wonderfull thread, great stories, made a dull day at work brigther.

Thank you, all.
Greetings from Norway.

Hasse