Antique & Classic Cars Blog

Show me a man, I’ll show you a person who thinks he can drive fast. It comes with the territory. “I’ve driven a long time”… “I’ve ridden a long time.”.. Therefore, when the mood strikes and the chance of arrest is small, I can cut this (motorcycle, car, truck, boat, ATV, snowmobile) loose for all it’s worth and have a great time.

Maybe. Maybe way not.

Truth is, controlling a vehicle at high speeds, regardless of wheel, prop or runner count, is a luxury most of us seldom experience. That diminishes our sense we can do it not one bit.

The day I bought my motorcycle, I found a stretch of Minnehaha Parkway that was curvy, tree-lined, and wide open. I cranked the throttle to the stop and the bike lurched forward like a race horse. I rocked back in the saddle where I couldn’t lean to control the turn and I almost went into the curb, which would have pushed my wheels out from under me and led to an embarrassing and painful tumble.

My friend Dave, contractor and all around good guy, has a fine case of road rash from a recent bike dump. Dave had a bike–a CB750, in fact–long ago and is, by some definition, an experienced rider. When a client came up short on a construction bill, he opened the garage and offered Dave his Kawasaki sport bike. Dave loved getting back on two wheels and was enjoying the 50 miles per gallon, too.

Then came the curving 35W on-ramp out of downtown Minneapolis on, I believe he said, 12th Street. There was a slow-moving four-donut ahead of him, so Dave veered into the motorcycle/commuter lane and cracked the throttle. He was not expecting the tighter turn from that ramp, a right-handed sweeper that was bending in more quickly than he could bring the bike around. He hit both brakes hard. The back tire locked up and skidded to the outside of the turn, so Dave instinctively let off the rear brake. Doing so let the tire spin again. The tread bit, ended the slide and the bike cut right hard—but Dave’s momentum was still toward the outside of the turn. It carried him over the far side of the bike into a rushing river of unforgiving asphalt.

He missed the guardrail and the bike managed not to cartwheel on top of him. Yet his right hand, right arm and right leg got beat up pretty good, and he skidded a little on his shoulder, too.

A few cars went by but no one stopped. After a moment, a woman’s voice called to him but he couldn’t see her. No angel story–this was a real woman standing in a parking lot a half-block away. She was wearing full Islamic dress and holding up a cell phone. She asked if he needed to call help. Dave could move, his bike was still running, so he decided not to call. He got on and rode to his mother’s house to have dinner with the family and try not to bleed on stuff.

The lesson here is that riding or driving fast is different from everyday transit. Things happen faster, more powerfully and abruptly, and often in a way that’s unexpected. I edited a book recently by a guy who tests motorcycles for a living. Despite that experience, he said he really didn’t learn how to ride until he took a high speed course at a race track taught by a professional. Only then did he come to understand what it takes to move fast, corner as needed and stop safely.

So ride. Ride far, ride alone, ride with friends. But ride within your limits and respect a powerful machine. Hey, we all have somewhere to go and we don’t need your tumbled, scraped-up self clogging a lane when we’re tryin’ to get home for dinner. Besides, who am I supposed to shoot the breeze with over morning coffee if guys like Dave are in a body cast at Hennepin County Medical Center? I can’t wait till visiting hours for a shot of caffeine….

This entry was posted on Friday, July 27th, 2007 at 8:24 am and is filed under Motorcycle tales. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.