Random Thoughts of a New Biker
Assing into a turn-
I only started riding in March of 2006. As of now, that is about 9 months. I can hardly consider myself an authority on anything to do with motorcycling, but I I can say that I have noticed something about how I ride.
I was taught that when cornering, the mantra is Slow-Look-Press-Roll (Slipper). I have used this, and sometimes find myself saying this aloud when I am trying to be careful. But I've noticed too that I tended to over-press, then had to compensate. My turns were not graceful at all, but slightly wobbly, meandering affairs that might get me pulled over for drunk driving, even though I'm stone-cold sober.
Then, in those moments when there is no one up my ass or trying to outright pass me on the small 2-lane backroads I frequent, I notice that I tend not to press so much with my hands or arms, but lean into the curve with, for lack of a better word, my ass.
I call it "assing into the turn". Whenever I let my ass do the leaning, and not focus on pressing the handlebars, I notice my turns become effortless, worry-free, and even graceful.
I've even learned where the sweet spot is in the deepest part of the turn, what I call the elbow, which is the best place to roll on the throttle. In this spot, you can shoot out of a turn, with nary a care about falling out of it, or whatever the experienced pros call it. All I know is, when I just stop thinking so damned much about it and feel my way through it, me and my bike become one organism. It's the best feeling in the world.
Loud pipes
I've read a few articles and blogs about loud pipes, and I have to say, I'm conflicted. I had a bike with very loud pipes, and I have to admit to both loving them, and being embarrassed by them.
When I first got my loud-as-hell 2003 Softail Standard, I fell madly in love with the entire thing, loud pipes and all. I loved to rev them sometimes, just to hear the deep, growl, then the roar, as some primal excitement came over me.
The only way I can describe this feeling is through other experiences, such as the feeling you get when you smell a barbecue. The smell of steak on the grill just moves something primeval in me. Or the way good coffee makes you want to chew the air. It's a visceral feeling that can't really be experienced rationally.
Actually, if thought is applied to it, the thrill is destroyed.
Beef is bad for you, and unnecessary in today's modern world. It is much easier and more ethical to get protein from plant sources than through killing a defenseless animal. Coffee is bad for you. Caffeine is addictive, and the high is only replaced by an ever deeper low. Plus, it is unethical, since poor, third-world peasants are exploited by multi-billion-dollar mega-corporations.
Having loud pipes is a nuissance to the general public. In traffic, people unfortunate enough to be next to you wince in pain as you rev through the gears. It creates hatred towards the biker, and all bikers suffer, even if they don't have loud pipes.
So, bearing all these thoughts in mind, do I not eat red meat? Do I not drink coffee? Are you kidding? I'm a big consumer of both!! (Maybe even a connoseur!) And do I have loud pipes on my Road King Classic? Not yet. I'm still riding with the stock pipes.
I'll tell you why I still want louder pipes, even though so many people deride them as being unnecessary, annoying, and a public menace (one blogger calls Harley riders "asshats" for all their noisemaking). I have had the benefit of riding through the same traffic conditions on both my 2003 Softail Standard with the loud pipes, and the more tame 2005 Road King Classic, and I can tell you from experience, I miss those loud pipes sometimes.
I miss them when I'm doing 45-50 mph down a multi-lane highway, and I'm coming up on someone in the lane to my right. They may or may not see me, so I'm especially cautious. I can usually tell when someone is aiming to change into my lane because their car tends towards it right before they make their move. When I saw this on my Softail, I revved the engine a couple of times, and it was an indirect way of saying, "here I am! (asshole)!" When I did this, I could see them "tend" back towards the center of their own lane. Now that I'm on the Road King, I don't have that luxury, and I've had to swerve several times, and/or use the horn.
I also miss the loud pipes when I'm driving through the city streets and people are not paying attention as they open their car-door or when they are trying to run across the street. They hear the bike long before I get there and they pause. When I've suspected that someone was going to dart out in front of me or open their door on me, I once again revved the engine and caught their attention.
I think that it is best to have as many tools at my disposal as possible in my efforts to get people to realize that I'm there. I'd rather have louder pipes than softer ones, but when I do my changeout, I'm not going to get pipes as loud as I had before. Those were just too loud. I couldn't make them quiet, even at idle. No, the new pipes will be louder than my silent-runners, but not so loud people wince when I'm next to them.
The bad-ass vs. the yuppy
Ever since I started riding, I've noticed that I'm uncomfortable with the way bikers are categorized. You are either a ne'r-do-well, or you're a Rich Urban Biker (RUB), both of whom are looked on with scorn by the other side.
The bad-asses are known for hard-drinking, hard-riding, and getting into their share of fights. They are also known for their abilities with a wrench, and pride themselves on being able to tear down their engines and rebuild them again with the kind of blind, all-knowing devotion of the psychopath "Private Pile" in Full Metal Jacket. Another of this type of biker's attributes is that he rides in all weather, even snow. Nothing can stop this guy, so the bad-ass legend goes.
The RUB, on the other hand is a highly educated person, someone who never had to struggle, or to suffer. He is a doctor or a lawyer, or a rich banker. This type of biker uses a trailer to transport his bike to rallies, then rides them around town, pretending to be bad-ass, but only in so far as how he looks. He knows little, to nothing at all, about the mechanics of his bike, and most probably has never been in a fight in his life. This type of biker is middle-aged, trying for one last stab at virility, and by dint of that, relevance. But it is all in vain; everyone can see through this pretender, and he is ridiculous and pathetic as he goes by on his Chopper.
I am not a hard-drinking or hard-riding person. I'm still learning my limits, and I'm cautious out there. I've been in more than my share of fights, but they were all primarily in High school - and I was on the defensive. I'm no stranger to hard times, having struggled through many a menial job to pay my way through college, and then many years of graduate school. I am highly educated, but I'm not rich. I am near middle age, but I'm not really making a stab at virility. I have worked on car engines, and I'm a total do-it-yourselfer when it comes to home improvement and repair, but I don't know the first thing about how to repair the engine or transmission of my bike. Truth be told, I don't want to learn because the bike should run without roadside maintenance these days, and I bought an extended service plan just so I'd be covered out on the road. (Besides, do I really want to trust my life to my insufficient mechanical abilities just to prove how manly I am?)
Can only Germans own Volkswagens? Can only mechanics drive cars, for that matter? Why then would only a gearhead be allowed the right to ride a motorcycle? Am I automatically a scumbag just because I ride a loud bike, and I wear a leather jacket with a skull and crossbones on the back? Am I a pathetic, rich, whiteboy trying in futility to be something I will never be?
No to all of these things, these definitions people constantly foist on one another. It's all so primitive and pointless. There are as many kinds of rider out there as there are kinds of bike to ride. The categorization does us all no good, and in the end harms us all. We need to get past the name-calling and group-making and get back to basics: why we are out there in the first place.
Ask either the bad-ass or the RUB why he rides, what he likes about riding, and you'll get the same answers. What are these? Primary is the love of being out on the road, the feeling you get when you are out there with the wind in your face, and a direct connection to the environment. As Robert Pirsig said, you are "in the picture". That indescribable mixture of sensations that comes from the combination of the road, the bike, and the rider is what gets people hooked, and keeps them riding against all better judgement. Why Ride? The Road, is why.
Not fitting in (why I don't join a club)
I've been riding for about 9 months. I'm a baby out there and I'm still finding out what kind of rider I am, and who I want to associate with. I know there are a lot of rider clubs from which to choose, but I have not joined any of them yet.
The reason for my hesitance, beyond the facts that I'm still learning the ropes and that I'm not sure if my personality fits in with those of the club members, is that I simply enjoy being out there on my own, with no one in front or behind. My favorite moments come when there is no one on the road but me, and I can't see anyone for miles around. The feeling of being a pioneer, of finding new places by dint of your own navigating skills, is what I seek. I have never been much of a joiner, and the clubs, although attractive in a way, just don't seem to be me.
Another reason for not joining is that I don't have the kind of time needed in a club. They have so many different kinds of Poker Runs, and Toy Runs, and Rallies, and every other manner of get-together, and they all happen on weekends, when I have my only spare time to actually see my wife (whom I actually want to see!). Since she doesn't particularly care for motorcylces or for riding in general, I don't want to ask her to partake in something she dislikes on a weekly basis, just because after 15 years of being together, I've discovered a new love/pass-time/obsession. She didn't sign up for this.
So I don't join a club, I don't go on Poker Runs, and my wife occasionally indulges me and goes out on a nice, leisurely ride to an ice cream stand once in a while. I get the majority of my riding during the weird mid-afternoon hours I have free due to my odd schedule. I ride to work, I ride to the gym, I ride to old Civil War battlefields. I explore. And that's enough for me.
Owning and riding a motorcycle, a Harley Davidson, have changed my life, have saved my sanity, and have returned me to a type of exploration I had long forgotten. Deciding to pursue my desire to rediscover the road has led me to a rebirth of sorts, and has given me whole new passion for life.
I only started riding in March of 2006. As of now, that is about 9 months. I can hardly consider myself an authority on anything to do with motorcycling, but I I can say that I have noticed something about how I ride.
I was taught that when cornering, the mantra is Slow-Look-Press-Roll (Slipper). I have used this, and sometimes find myself saying this aloud when I am trying to be careful. But I've noticed too that I tended to over-press, then had to compensate. My turns were not graceful at all, but slightly wobbly, meandering affairs that might get me pulled over for drunk driving, even though I'm stone-cold sober.
Then, in those moments when there is no one up my ass or trying to outright pass me on the small 2-lane backroads I frequent, I notice that I tend not to press so much with my hands or arms, but lean into the curve with, for lack of a better word, my ass.
I call it "assing into the turn". Whenever I let my ass do the leaning, and not focus on pressing the handlebars, I notice my turns become effortless, worry-free, and even graceful.
I've even learned where the sweet spot is in the deepest part of the turn, what I call the elbow, which is the best place to roll on the throttle. In this spot, you can shoot out of a turn, with nary a care about falling out of it, or whatever the experienced pros call it. All I know is, when I just stop thinking so damned much about it and feel my way through it, me and my bike become one organism. It's the best feeling in the world.
Loud pipes
I've read a few articles and blogs about loud pipes, and I have to say, I'm conflicted. I had a bike with very loud pipes, and I have to admit to both loving them, and being embarrassed by them.
When I first got my loud-as-hell 2003 Softail Standard, I fell madly in love with the entire thing, loud pipes and all. I loved to rev them sometimes, just to hear the deep, growl, then the roar, as some primal excitement came over me.
The only way I can describe this feeling is through other experiences, such as the feeling you get when you smell a barbecue. The smell of steak on the grill just moves something primeval in me. Or the way good coffee makes you want to chew the air. It's a visceral feeling that can't really be experienced rationally.
Actually, if thought is applied to it, the thrill is destroyed.
Beef is bad for you, and unnecessary in today's modern world. It is much easier and more ethical to get protein from plant sources than through killing a defenseless animal. Coffee is bad for you. Caffeine is addictive, and the high is only replaced by an ever deeper low. Plus, it is unethical, since poor, third-world peasants are exploited by multi-billion-dollar mega-corporations.
Having loud pipes is a nuissance to the general public. In traffic, people unfortunate enough to be next to you wince in pain as you rev through the gears. It creates hatred towards the biker, and all bikers suffer, even if they don't have loud pipes.
So, bearing all these thoughts in mind, do I not eat red meat? Do I not drink coffee? Are you kidding? I'm a big consumer of both!! (Maybe even a connoseur!) And do I have loud pipes on my Road King Classic? Not yet. I'm still riding with the stock pipes.
I'll tell you why I still want louder pipes, even though so many people deride them as being unnecessary, annoying, and a public menace (one blogger calls Harley riders "asshats" for all their noisemaking). I have had the benefit of riding through the same traffic conditions on both my 2003 Softail Standard with the loud pipes, and the more tame 2005 Road King Classic, and I can tell you from experience, I miss those loud pipes sometimes.
I miss them when I'm doing 45-50 mph down a multi-lane highway, and I'm coming up on someone in the lane to my right. They may or may not see me, so I'm especially cautious. I can usually tell when someone is aiming to change into my lane because their car tends towards it right before they make their move. When I saw this on my Softail, I revved the engine a couple of times, and it was an indirect way of saying, "here I am! (asshole)!" When I did this, I could see them "tend" back towards the center of their own lane. Now that I'm on the Road King, I don't have that luxury, and I've had to swerve several times, and/or use the horn.
I also miss the loud pipes when I'm driving through the city streets and people are not paying attention as they open their car-door or when they are trying to run across the street. They hear the bike long before I get there and they pause. When I've suspected that someone was going to dart out in front of me or open their door on me, I once again revved the engine and caught their attention.
I think that it is best to have as many tools at my disposal as possible in my efforts to get people to realize that I'm there. I'd rather have louder pipes than softer ones, but when I do my changeout, I'm not going to get pipes as loud as I had before. Those were just too loud. I couldn't make them quiet, even at idle. No, the new pipes will be louder than my silent-runners, but not so loud people wince when I'm next to them.
The bad-ass vs. the yuppy
Ever since I started riding, I've noticed that I'm uncomfortable with the way bikers are categorized. You are either a ne'r-do-well, or you're a Rich Urban Biker (RUB), both of whom are looked on with scorn by the other side.
The bad-asses are known for hard-drinking, hard-riding, and getting into their share of fights. They are also known for their abilities with a wrench, and pride themselves on being able to tear down their engines and rebuild them again with the kind of blind, all-knowing devotion of the psychopath "Private Pile" in Full Metal Jacket. Another of this type of biker's attributes is that he rides in all weather, even snow. Nothing can stop this guy, so the bad-ass legend goes.
The RUB, on the other hand is a highly educated person, someone who never had to struggle, or to suffer. He is a doctor or a lawyer, or a rich banker. This type of biker uses a trailer to transport his bike to rallies, then rides them around town, pretending to be bad-ass, but only in so far as how he looks. He knows little, to nothing at all, about the mechanics of his bike, and most probably has never been in a fight in his life. This type of biker is middle-aged, trying for one last stab at virility, and by dint of that, relevance. But it is all in vain; everyone can see through this pretender, and he is ridiculous and pathetic as he goes by on his Chopper.
I am not a hard-drinking or hard-riding person. I'm still learning my limits, and I'm cautious out there. I've been in more than my share of fights, but they were all primarily in High school - and I was on the defensive. I'm no stranger to hard times, having struggled through many a menial job to pay my way through college, and then many years of graduate school. I am highly educated, but I'm not rich. I am near middle age, but I'm not really making a stab at virility. I have worked on car engines, and I'm a total do-it-yourselfer when it comes to home improvement and repair, but I don't know the first thing about how to repair the engine or transmission of my bike. Truth be told, I don't want to learn because the bike should run without roadside maintenance these days, and I bought an extended service plan just so I'd be covered out on the road. (Besides, do I really want to trust my life to my insufficient mechanical abilities just to prove how manly I am?)
Can only Germans own Volkswagens? Can only mechanics drive cars, for that matter? Why then would only a gearhead be allowed the right to ride a motorcycle? Am I automatically a scumbag just because I ride a loud bike, and I wear a leather jacket with a skull and crossbones on the back? Am I a pathetic, rich, whiteboy trying in futility to be something I will never be?
No to all of these things, these definitions people constantly foist on one another. It's all so primitive and pointless. There are as many kinds of rider out there as there are kinds of bike to ride. The categorization does us all no good, and in the end harms us all. We need to get past the name-calling and group-making and get back to basics: why we are out there in the first place.
Ask either the bad-ass or the RUB why he rides, what he likes about riding, and you'll get the same answers. What are these? Primary is the love of being out on the road, the feeling you get when you are out there with the wind in your face, and a direct connection to the environment. As Robert Pirsig said, you are "in the picture". That indescribable mixture of sensations that comes from the combination of the road, the bike, and the rider is what gets people hooked, and keeps them riding against all better judgement. Why Ride? The Road, is why.
Not fitting in (why I don't join a club)
I've been riding for about 9 months. I'm a baby out there and I'm still finding out what kind of rider I am, and who I want to associate with. I know there are a lot of rider clubs from which to choose, but I have not joined any of them yet.
The reason for my hesitance, beyond the facts that I'm still learning the ropes and that I'm not sure if my personality fits in with those of the club members, is that I simply enjoy being out there on my own, with no one in front or behind. My favorite moments come when there is no one on the road but me, and I can't see anyone for miles around. The feeling of being a pioneer, of finding new places by dint of your own navigating skills, is what I seek. I have never been much of a joiner, and the clubs, although attractive in a way, just don't seem to be me.
Another reason for not joining is that I don't have the kind of time needed in a club. They have so many different kinds of Poker Runs, and Toy Runs, and Rallies, and every other manner of get-together, and they all happen on weekends, when I have my only spare time to actually see my wife (whom I actually want to see!). Since she doesn't particularly care for motorcylces or for riding in general, I don't want to ask her to partake in something she dislikes on a weekly basis, just because after 15 years of being together, I've discovered a new love/pass-time/obsession. She didn't sign up for this.
So I don't join a club, I don't go on Poker Runs, and my wife occasionally indulges me and goes out on a nice, leisurely ride to an ice cream stand once in a while. I get the majority of my riding during the weird mid-afternoon hours I have free due to my odd schedule. I ride to work, I ride to the gym, I ride to old Civil War battlefields. I explore. And that's enough for me.
Owning and riding a motorcycle, a Harley Davidson, have changed my life, have saved my sanity, and have returned me to a type of exploration I had long forgotten. Deciding to pursue my desire to rediscover the road has led me to a rebirth of sorts, and has given me whole new passion for life.
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