Motorcycle

Yes, if you didn’t know, I bought a motorcycle. My desires for a motorcycle go way back, but it was heightened by a recent trip to Utah. I had planned on taking a few roads that I’ve never been on, mostly fireroads, but I had read about a few that I really wanted to take. One was the Cottonwood Canyon Road, which turned out to be closed, and the other was Hell’s Backbone. This road was unique in that it was the first road into Boulder and the bridge was around 8000ft with sheer cliffs on either side. Going up, the road turned spongy, as it was a very wet spring, and as I turned around one switchback, a 4ft boulder was blocking the road. I squeezed by that rock and mumbled how I would have never had that problem on a bike.  After conquering that road, I took another road that I had taken a previous trip and on the downside of that, I was shifting down thinking that if I die would just be because the darn car weighs so much that I couldn’t stop in the mud. I took other roads too which I probably shouldn’t have, but that is the way it goes. The point was, I wasn’t having nearly as much fun as I should be having just because I was in a car.

I’m not sure the exact day I had the thought to finally get the thing. I remember coming up to Tracy and saying, “I’m gonna have a mid-life crisis, and it involves a motorcycle.” To my shock and amazement, Tracy said yes. So, I had asked some people at work about a nice bike to have, one that could spend most of the time on the road, but one that I could take on dirt and fire roads as well. I was suggested that a Suzuki V-Strom would fit the bill. I looked at one at a local dealership and it was a longer bike than I was expecting, but the clearance was higher and the engine was something I thought I could handle. Done. I debated on it for a few days and sleepless nights and decided to do the deed. I bought the bike after letting the family look at it and they gave their approval. They delivered it that evening.

So there it sits in the garage. Not doing much at all. The next day I looked at the Motorcycle Safety Foundation’s site and found a number to call about their classes. One of my promises was to take a class before I hit the road and before I had my license. There were two more classes remaining and if I cared to walk-on, I could at least try. So that Friday night, I walked into the class, and sure enough, I got in. One of the advantages of buying so late in the season was a good deal on the bike and being able to take the class that most have to wait months for. The class occupied my entire weekend, one that featured birthday parties and assorted appointments and also a talk by my wife in church. I had to miss all of that. The good part is that I passed the class with a perfect score outside of a downshift that didn’t happen. I put my foot down on the machine, but it had a lot of shifting issues those two days.

My real reason for writing this was to let you know about my apprehension on this purchase. You see, being a motorcyclist, like being a bicyclist, means you are part of a group, with their own clothing, language and other cultural byproducts. I usually don’t want to partake. I want to wear normal shorts when I bike. I don’t want to become part of that sub-culture. I don’t want to talk about my bike or talk about the options or whatall. I just use things for transport and for this, just to enjoy it. So during the first night I met my instructors. One was a grizzled old gentleman who had some scars from biking that he didn’t mind sharing. The other instructor was a middle/youngish woman who had her arm in a sling and also had difficulty walking. She had a motorcycle accident two weeks previous when the power-steering on her bike (uh huh, power steering) and she slammed into the guardrail at 65 MPH. Great. I’m gonna die on this thing. What the heck am I thinking?

The next morning, we were on the grid and the helper came riding a motorcycle and she was wearing chaps. Now, I had to stifle any thoughts I had about “buttless” chap jokes that I had swimming around my head. I realize they serve a very good purpose, but again I thought about being part of this culture and all the stuff I had to deal with there.

Anyways, I will soon have my certificate, which will allow me to get my M-class on my driver’s license. Then I’ll be legal. Well, after I get insurance…gear…nerve…

I hope I don’t kill myself on this thing.