I previously wrote a story about how motorcycles got introduced to me (Motorcycles, Motorcycles Everywhere). That story explains how they got introduced to me, but it doesn’t tell the story of what they do for me. I attempt to cover that here, but the unique connection to motorcycles and motorcycling is pretty powerful and not easy to define. Consider the value of learning to accept, manage and then embrace risk and think about pure unadulterated joy pouring in while you engage in the activity and you get the idea. I think my story will resonate with other bikers. The feeling is too powerful not to notice it, I’m sure it’s part of the driving force that fuels the industry.
I remember begging to get a motorcycle when I was a kid. I remember how excited I was when I got it too. I couldn’t wait for my dad to get home to teach me how to start it and ride it. I kept sitting on it and moving it around the carport, even shaking it to listen to the gas in the tank swish. That was the kind of excitement you’d expect for any kid with any new toy. It was the riding though that was going to change me.
Dad went over the basics with me when he got home. Turn the gas line so fuel goes to the carburetor, kill switch if anything goes wrong, don’t touch the exhaust pipe – ever. Thankfully, the Honda 50’s of the day had no clutch, so all I had to do was learn how to shift gears (and balance, and control the throttle and brake, etc.). Neutral was at the bottom of the shift pattern and the gears were all three found by lifting the little toe shifter up.
Dad’s explanation of the gearing was hilarious, yet appropriate for my age and lack of any riding background at nine. “First gear is for most of your riding needs. Don’t use second gear unless there’s a long straightaway and you’re late getting home. Third gear is for racing and so you won’t really need that.”
It’s funny, at nine, you just accept what mom and dad say for the most part. So, for a good while (a few weeks anyway), his story worked. His explanation of why not to use the front brakes was similarly ridiculous. He said something like, “don’t use the front brakes with any force or it will make you flip over the handlebars. If you use them at all, barely feather touch them.” This was an unfortunate misconception of the time that was commonly shared. I heard other kids, even older kids who rode dirt bikes, telling me something similar, particularly when they saw me using them.
The problem for me was, I had this nagging thought. “Why would the manufacturers make them if they have no use or value?” but, like the gear explanation, I accepted it for a time… until I started to test things.
I was a pretty good, obedient kid for the most part, so bikes probably helped me in the sense of learning to figure things out on my own. You might say a nine year old ought not to test mom or dad’s advice too much, but again, I was kind of overly obedient back then and the bike helped me to relax a bit and start learning to make my own independent judgments.
You see, I started going faster and learning the limits of the bike. As I got faster, I needed to be able to brake harder and stop faster. Motorcycles are made to use the front brake. The front brake provides far more stopping power than the rear. I remember noticing that I could use the front brakes successfully even with force. I was learning to accept risk. I understood that if I was wrong, the bike might flip, but I could feel that the front brakes were working. I noticed they worked better at stopping than the rear brakes and I started to trust my own experiences on the bike… and yes I got even faster and started using third gear (whoo hoo!).
Why would an ultra-obedient, overly worried about the rules kid, start to test dad’s statement about the brakes and the gears? If you haven’t ridden a motorcycle (or only been on one once), you might not get it, but I’m going to attempt to put that in words. It’s more than words can explain, but I hope to give you a taste, a feeling of the rush, the power, the freedom, the unbridled joy, the power, the sense of independence and control that comes with driving a motorcycle.
I remember that feeling starting as I was sitting on the bike, waiting for dad to come home to teach me how to ride it. I couldn’t explain it, but it’s like the motorcycle was feeding some sensory organ that no other experience had ever touched. Just sitting on it, I knew something unique was happening. The motorcycle was calling me into a world that others didn’t have. A world that I had never experienced yet, but knew I wanted. The feeling grew when I kicked the starter and the engine turned over. The feeling of power and excitement only grew even more as I revved the bike and felt the engine turning over faster and faster. That was in neutral.
Then dad let me put it in first gear and go around the yard. Joy started pouring through me. Excitement and thrill at 7 miles an hour. You see what it meant was that I could go places, I could experience risk, I could experience nature and I could feel motorcycle power pulsing through my veins.
When you ride a motorcycle, you are closer to everything. You are closer to the ground, the wind and the sky. You can sense the risk, but you can feel nature. The wind is at your face, you feel the air rushing around you. You rev the motor and feel the power. You can lean over and move the machine around. You can lean back and pop a wheelie. You can twist and turn and accelerate and brake. You feel the machine and you feel it respond to you. You feel other motorcyclers when you see them near. The connection is real.
Dad pointed down to the dirt road in front of our house and I headed right down. Now I could get into second gear and go 14 miles per hour! It was outrageous!! This was faster than any of my nine year old friends could run!! Up and down the little dirt road I went. Then a jeep came by on our extremely isolated deep woods dirt road. I didn’t panic, I just slowed down as he eased by while I puttered along the edge of the road.
I drove back to the driveway and my dad was watching. “You did fine,” he said, “I want you to stay on all the trails around here and only ride on this dirt road to go to the neighbors when mom sends you. Stay away from cars like you did then and I’ll let you keep on riding.”
I had fears about being alone when I was a kid too. The bike helped there as well. If I rode into the woods, I was by myself; but, if I didn’t, I was limiting my experiences on the bike. Slowly, but surely, the bike called me into the woods. I listened. I loved that feeling. That feeling grew when I got a motorcycle with a clutch and learned how to use and control the power and climb steeper and steeper hills. Then, when I got a motocross bike and started jumping… I could never escape that feeling. When you are in the air, you are on a carnival ride, but one that you control. You are flying, you are superman. There is truly nothing else like it.
The amazing thing is that you can get the motorcycle rush and connection I described above on anything with two wheels and a motor. I can ride a Honda MR50 (tiny kids racing bike) and still feel the rush, the wind in my face that makes the connection with nature, with all other motorcycles and motorcyclers and with myself. I’m in control, I can make noise, I have power at my disposal, I can travel, I can travel swiftly and forcefully, I can experience risk and see, feel and hear nature up close. I can go fast or slow, I can go places others can’t go. I am a motorcycler.
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Why not try one of the other stories in this series? Motorcycles, Motorcycles Everywhere or the follow up to this story: I’ll have a Cup of Joy with My Ride!
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