A Life of Motorcycling …. by Tim Monroe

I’m no kid. I’m 49 years old. Yes that’s right, 49. No matter how much I deny it, I’m old. So why do I feel like a kid every time I swing a leg over a motorcycle?

Ever since my brother and I bought our first motorcycle at age 17, there have been scores of people in my life that have questioned why, exactly, do I ride motorcycles? The easy answer is “because it’s fun”. But after 32 years of riding, I’ve given this some thought and have come to the conclusion that there are many reasons why “its fun”. And its not just fun, it’s also good for me.

I’ll never forget that Mom cried for nearly 3 days after the purchase of our shiny used Honda SL125. She was sure her sons would be dead within a few days. Our more understanding father convinced her that we were good, responsible kids and that we would be fine. I think both our parents thought it was just a passing fad and that we’d forget all about motorcycles by the following summer.

Thirty two years, dozens of track days, thousands of weekend rides, and several cross-country trips later, its safe to say motorcycling will always be a part of our lives. But what is it about riding that is so intoxicating, so enjoyable, and so much of a rush?

I’m not an early riser most days. I abhor hearing the alarm go off at 6:30 A.M. five mornings a week. But I have no trouble getting out of bed that early, or earlier, when it’s a day to ride. In fact, I have trouble sleeping the night before, worried that I’ll sleep in too late and miss the prime riding time. It’s like I’m eight years old and its Christmas Eve. Living in Southern California, I’m fortunate enough to experience Christmas morning almost every week of the year.

One undeniable factor is adrenalin. T-shirts are full of slogans like “everyone dies, not everyone truly lives” and “life begins at 150 mph”. A percentage of humans gets a rush from high doses of adrenalin, probably harkening back to our caveman days. Back then we got a rush from chasing and killing our dinner. Today a few of us need illicit speed to get the same feeling. Of course, one could argue that this is a fairly common human phenomena. There’s always a line for Space Mountain, you know.

Another factor is what I’ll call the Zen factor. Robert Pirsig’s book Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance was a huge seller, and for good reason. Though the book had little to do with actual motorcycle maintenance, its easy to draw a connection between motorcycles and a Zen-like feeling that many riders describe.

If I haven’t ridden for more than a week, and I’m aimlessly bouncing around the house, my wife will tell me “why don’t you go for a ride?”. She’s a good wife, and knows what I need. In the rest of my life I’m always busy with seemingly hundreds of different details every day. My mind needs frequent vacations from everyday life. Riding provides that little mental vacation.

Riding a motorcycle, especially riding fast on a twisty road, will cause your mind to focus like no other activity I’ve experienced. Fatal consequences can quickly occur if you lose your focus. Rewards are just around the next perfectly executed turn, and when you get a bunch of them right its magic. If you get one horribly wrong you might have an unscheduled trip in an ambulance…or worse. Fortunately if you’re an experienced rider you probably get most of them right, and the few imperfect turns you make are still good enough to keep you on your side of the road.

NOT our idea of the proper use of a motorcycle

This intense focus, for me, temporarily forces every other thought out of my mind. The longer I do it, the more “pure” my thinking becomes. And the more relaxed I feel. Like any other strenuous activity, too much can lead to fatigue and poor performance. But with a few breaks to swap stories with your buddies, you can make get in more than enough hours of “meditation” to keep your mind healthy until the next ride.

I’m a bit embarrassed to admit it, but I also like the look of being a motorcycle rider. Some people (quite a few, actually) display their motorcycle hobby in the form of a black leather vest, chaps, and a not-quite-DOT-legal beanie helmet. If that works for you, more power to you. Others show their dedication to riding with Aerostich suits and flip-up helmets. My personal motorcycling statement a full face helmet, a one piece, rather colorful leather suit, and roadrace style boots and gloves. This outfit gives me a bit of protection, probably enough to save my skin in a low speed getoff if it doesn’t involve a car or a guard rail. But it also makes me feel like a bit of a “badass”.

I’m a slightly overweight, old white guy, with a hairline noticeably higher than it was a few years ago. But when I don my bright leathers, helmet, boots and gloves, and hop on my shiny fast repli-racer sportbike, I’m a different person. I’m a daredevil, a fearless lawbreaker that’s not afraid to get in your face, and I don’t care what you think about me. Well, that’s the image I hope to project, anyway. A badass, in other words.

I know I’m not much different than all those accountants and dentists who stop shaving on Friday and slip into bad-boy chopper guy mode on Saturday. I’m OK with that. I’m happy in the knowledge that I actually know how to ride a bike, and that for me the ride is the destination. No parking-lot jewelry for this boy.

There’s an undeniable social aspect of motorcycling. The male bonding ritual is a big part of riding, and for many folks is the main reason for owning a motorcycle. I enjoy chatting with my riding buddies, but only to a degree. After a while I get the itch to bond with my mechanical buddy instead.

With apologies to Queen, here’s my version of “I’m In Love With My Bike”.

“The machine of a dream, such a clean machine.
With the pistons a pumpin’, and the brake rotors gleam.
When I’m holding your bars,
Keep away from them cars,
When my hands on a grease gun,
Oh it’s like a disease son,
I’m in love with my bike, gotta feel for my ride on two wheels,
Get a grip on my boy racer helmet,
Such a thrill when the footpegs scrape.

Told my girl I just had to forget her,
Rather buy me a new carburetor,
So she made tracks sayin’ this is the end now,
Bikes don’t talk back they’re just two wheeled friends now”

Everything about motorcycle riding turns me on. Walk out to the garage and just look at the damn thing, fer chrissakes! It’s a sexy beast parked there. My pulse quickens at the sight of my little 675cc jewel. Chain oiled? Tire pressure checked? Engine oil and brake fluid level checked? Yes, yes and yes.

Fire up the bike and listen to the exhaust. Blip the throttle just to hear the quickly rising and falling notes. Clutch in, left toe pushes down, she clicks into gear. Execute a smooth takeoff, then try for as many seamless upshifts and downshifts as you can for the rest of the day. Throw in lots of smooth braking and turns. Make it look effortless to observers in cars. I know they’re all the rage, but who really needs a slipper clutch? Not me. My slipper clutch is my left hand, with smooth, rev-matching downshifts carefully practiced thousands of times. Maybe millions. Repeat often.

Riding is the reward, the rest of the stuff is just icing on the cake.

A recent article by Fred Rau in Friction Zone magazine explores the correlation between riding motorcycles and flying aircraft. Fred says a pilot is 12 times more likely to be a motorcycle rider than an average person, and that a U.S. Marine pilot’s number one cause of injuries was due to motorcycle accidents.

In the back of my mind I’ve always suspected that many pilots were also riders.

Heck, just check out Tom Cruise riding a Kawasaki ZX-10 in Top Gun for proof. No helmet, of course, just cool Ray-Bans and lots of wind in the hair. Or how about Richard Gere’s Navy-pilot-in-training character, riding a vintage Triumph around when not making time with Debra Winger. Clearly there’s something to this.

Everybody knows Peter Egan, right? Yup, Pete’s a pilot.

Back in my college days, learning to pilot planes and work on them too, there were lots of bikes parked at the airport. Well, at least during the six months of the year when the central Illinois weather cooperated. Half of the mechanics and flight instructors rode bikes, and of course I did too. I caught lots of grief from the older, Gold-Winger mechanics when I showed up on my Kawi 350 triple- sans baffles of course. Hey, I was 19, what can I say?

There are lots of similarities between riding bikes and flying planes. Focus. Preparation. Learning curve. Three-dimensional sensations. Speed! Exhilaration! Turning and burning! Banking and cranking!
OK, I digress.

Look through your turn. Lean into it. Tilting the horizon. Pilots and riders all experience these. Being closer to the ground, the sensation of speed is obviously greater on your Yamaha R1 or Ducati Monster, but it can easily be compared to the experience of performing aerobatics in a Pitts Special or Citabria.

Focus is equally important for both machines if you want to get home alive. Pilots and riders both report a “zen-like” experience of intense focus while flying along, on the ground or in the air. Both mode of transport are relatively dangerous, compared to more mundane and popular forms of travel such as cars and airlines. If it wasn’t a challenge, it wouldn’t be quite so rewarding.

I haven’t taken the left seat of an aircraft in several years, but the sensations of piloting a plane never leave. The feeling of greasing one onto the runway is just as rewarding as nailing that apex with my knee strafing the asphalt.

How many of you reading this are pilots? Ever think about getting your private pilot license? If you are an experienced motorcycle pilot, you owe it to yourself to at least take an introductory flight at your local small airport. Cessna and other aircraft makers offer low-cost flights for people just like you. Warning- you could become addicted.

 

Bikehenge? Suzuki Ranch? (get it?)

Motorcyclist magazine has featured “The Bike That Changed My Life” in recent issues, and the magazine’s Brian Catterson recently editorialized about some of the bikes that changed his life. Perhaps to satisfy his ample ego, or maybe just to fill up space, Catterson featured not one but five bikes that were significant in his life.

Naturally I started thinking about the bikes that “changed my life”. The term “changed my life” is probably a bit strong, but I suppose that in a subtle, Zen-like way, you could say my life was changed by a few of the
many bikes I’ve owned.

As is so often the case, dear old Dad is at least partly to blame for my, and my brother’s, motorcycle obsession. At the age of 9 or 10 Dad brought home a scrappy little Tecumseh powered hardtail minibike. Did I say hardtail? Make that no suspension at all, other than letting some air out of the slick, rock-hard, lawn-mower refugee tires. Ah, but motorcycle mania had settled into our impressionable little brains, never to leave.

The bike I remember most fondly, and my first street-legal ride, was a 1972 Honda SL125, purchased used when my twin brother and I were 16. Mom was none too happy about it, of course, but our good father brought home the little enduro anyway, in the back of the family Torino Squire Wagon. Looking at SL125’s nowadays brings a huge smile, and a laugh. That bike seemed huge, powerful, and barely controllable back in my teenage years. Nine ginormous horsepower screaming down the road. Now, after 30-plus years of riding streetbikes, the little SL seems like a toy, something more suited for a pit-bike. Back in the day we were the only kids in school with a motorcycle, and I must confess to a small James Dean complex. The SL125 saw duty riding to school, drag racing against a neighbor’s Hodaka 100, and “off-roading” in vacant lots behind factories. Ignorance was truly bliss.

Another memorable motorcycle was the Kawasaki 350 S2 triple two-stroke that carried me through college. Though I also had two cars at the time (unique among full-time college students in those days) the smokin’ Kawi provided rapid, attention-grabbing transportation from April to November around the University of Illinois campus. Being
on a bologna and mac-and-cheese budget, the only modifications I could afford were some chain lube and the removal of the three exhaust baffles. Oh yes! I had to push that bike a block from home before starting it in the morning, to avoid nasty neighborly yelling. On the throttle those unmuffled pipes provided an unforgettable
soundtrack to my travels. No bike has made me smile more.

The last bike that “changed my life” was a 1992 Honda CBR600F2. Screaming red with white stripes, this baby was the first bike that taught me my riding skills were no match for what I was riding. Despite years of riding experience, the F2’s handling inspired me to hone my skills with training and track days.

Like most veteran riders, I could go on and on about each and every bike I’ve owned, extolling its virtues and probably forgetting its faults. There was the Ninja 900 that seemed like it steered by telepathy. The Honda Nighthawk 750 that reliably carried me around much of the U.S. The Suzuki GS1000S that scared me silly with its amazing acceleration. And the SV650 that just does everything so well. But the diminutive SL125, the oily Kawasaki 350 triple, and the red Honda 600 stand out above the rest.

So, what bikes changed your life?

 

Motorcycle riding is essentially a solitary activity. Its just you and your bike, and you are alone in the decision making process. You decide where you want to go, when you want to leave, and how fast you’ll travel. One of the beautiful things about motorcycle riding is that even if you’re with a group, you can always peel off on your own when the mood strikes. If you’re intolerant of slowpokes or indecisive types, just take off.

Some people live for the social aspect of riding, and everyone takes part in a group ride once in a while. Here are some ideas on how you can preserve your sanity, keeping the group alive and intact until you get to your destination.
This is not what we mean by “group ride”, but we wouldn’t mind following.

Keep in mind group rides are all about compromise. If you want to ride with the group, you’ll have to forego your usual knee-sliding, crossing-the-double-yellow antics.

PLANNING:

Choose your route carefully and thoughtfully. Take into account the skill level of everyone that’s likely to be in your group. Use the KISS philisophy: Keep It Simple and Safe. If you’d rather say “Keep It Simple Stupid”, go right ahead. Distribute route maps to everyone showing the beginning, end, and any stops in between. Include cell phone numbers for the leaders. Plan frequent gas/restroom/drink stops, in case someone forgot to fill up or rides one of those Harley V-Rods with the tiny tank. Choose rest stops with enough room for everyone to stop at the same time.

Choose ride leaders who know the route intimately, and who have the maturity and self-discipline to ride at a speed that won’t leave newbies behind.

Don’t push it. End your ride before 3 pm to avoid fatigue. Discourage alcohol consumption before or during the ride. Bring a first aid kit and find out who has first aid training.

Appoint one of the leaders to be the chase rider, to help anyone who gets lost or breaks down.

Here’s some first-time group riders, a little unclear on the idea.

PRE-RIDE:
If you’re the leader, introduce yourself and the other leaders. Brief all riders on what’s going to happen, when, where, who, etc. Unpleasant surprises should be avoided. Give everyone a map and directions and phone numbers. Make sure everyone has the appropriate clothing and gear. Let everyone know what behavior is expected, where the gas stops will be, what the route is, and who the leaders are. Give them a Plan B in case something goes wrong.

THE RIDE:
Ride well within your limitations. Never pass the leader. Again, don’t push it. If you are having trouble keeping up with the group, just drop back and ride at your own pace. Don’t worry, you’ll get there in plenty of time. If there are squids in your group, stay away from them. Allow at least 3 seconds between you and the rider in front of you. Keep an eye on the rider in front of you, but shift your focus often and don’t fixate on him/her. Above all, ride at your own pace and be considerate of the other riders.

Make sure all group riders have appropriate clothing and gear.

If you’re on an unfamiliar road, be aware of falling rocks, wildlife, water crossing the road, ice in the winter, debris or diesel on the road, Winnebagos, etc. Never ride so fast that you can’t stop in time for something unexpected around the next bend.

These are just some ideas on what you can do to have a happy and successful group ride. I’m sure you have other ideas, why don’t you tell us about them?

I wonder what it was like to ride this thing. I wonder how long I could go without crashing it. Maybe I should ask John Burns.

Ouch!

OK, I might not know art, but I know what I like. And I like streetfighters. But what exactly IS a streetfighter? And has the term been watered down by the manufacturers?

It’s impossible to know when the first streetfighter was built. It was probably in England or Italy, probably in the 80’s, probably when someone crashed his GSXR and didn’t have the dosh to buy new plastic. Voila! The first streetfighter.

A Streetfighter is a custom motorcycle, but (usually) customized in a way so as to enhance performance, NOT RUIN IT like so many custom bikes do. Most custom streetfighters started life as fully faired sportbikes. In the 90’s the stereotypical streetfighter consisted of a Suzuki GSXR-750 stripped of its fairings, with a dual headlight arrangement and maybe a Ducati 916 tail section. Upgrade the intake, exhaust, brakes and suspension, mix in a bit of custom paint and you’ve got your basic ‘fighter.

Streetfighters often have motocross style tubular handlebars. Just look at the large ads Renthal pays for in each issue of the UK mag “Streetfighters”. Somewhere along the way, in Germany at least, they’ve decided that ‘fighters need to have the ass end turned way up. Why? We have no idea. Those wacky Germans have taken streetfighters down a detour toward Harley-esque bizarre modifications made for no reason than just to be different. Nice to look at, probably not nice to ride.

True hardcore Streetfighters never really caught on in the U.S., but they carry on in England, France and Germany. One possible reason for their lack of popularity in the U.S. is that a typical ‘fighter features an upright riding position and zero wind protection, needed for high speed highway riding so common in the states. Another possible reason is that many motorcycle manufacturers have jumped on the streetfighter bandwagon, producing sanitized ‘fighters for mass consumption. These are often called “naked bikes”.

Ducati started the naked bike buzz in 1993 with its Monster. The Ducati Monster is such an iconic bike that it is still sold today, visually unchanged. Today’s Monster can be had in several sizes, from the beginner’s 620 to fire-breathing 1100cc variants with liquid cooled, 4 valve, motors and suspension worthy of full on racebikes.

Practically every manufacturer has a Streetfighter-ish offering in their lineup, but no one hit the mark closer than Triumph with their Speed Triple. The Speed Triple has sold so well for Triumph that they’ve expanded their range to include the new Street Triple, a similarly styled machine based on the successful Daytona 675 engine and frame.

Aprilia’s Tuono, MV Agusta Brutale, and Suzuki’s B-King are all mass produced ‘fighters, watered down to make them attractive, reliable and safe enough for mass consumption.

In a larger sense, streetfighters might be considered a rebellion against the low clip-on, high pegs plastic-wrapped repli-racer that gained popularity in the 80’s. Fighters might be considered…gasp…. a return to the “standard” motorcycles that were just about all you could buy in the 50’s and 60’s. Funny how some things come full circle.

Sure it has only 30 horsepower, but this thing can FLY!