Head Onto the Highway


You start by straddling your bike and pushing it out from under the carport where it has sat for protection. Next you give it a pre-ride check. Does everything look all right? It does. Do you have plenty of fuel? Yes; there are only a few miles on the odometer since the last fuelling. Does the drive chain need lubrication? No, you did that last time; it should be good to go.

The oil is one of the most important checks. It is a bit awkward. You must stand the bike upright, while somehow looking at the oil gauge glass down below. The glass shows full. The oil is a decent color.

Next you check your equipment. Your registration and tool kit are in the saddlebags as always. So is that long-sleeved shirt or jacket. You’d better put that on; the morning feels mild, but on the road the wind is likely to give you a chill. Also check to make sure you have plenty of water in your bottle. And of course make sure your camera is safely stowed, if you plan to take one.

The vital safety glasses are next. Which pair do you use? It is early morning. The sun is not yet very high. There are deep shadows around. This calls for the shadow-softening amber glasses. They also make the sky look like something on an alien world.

Now put your helmet on and cinch the chin strap and you’re ready to start the engine. You straddle the bike, raise the kick stand, and turn on the key. You glance at the kill switch to make sure it is not on. Check to see that the transmission is in neutral. Engage the choke. Grip the handlebars. The right thumb presses the starter switch.

The engine coughs and catches up. You wait a moment, and then beep the throttle to make sure it is running right. You move the choke in a bit, beep the throttle again, and move the choke some more.

In a minute or so the choke is off and the engine is running smoothly. Big-bore cruiser bike engines make a throaty “glug-glug” sound as they idle. Your bike’s two-fifty cc displacement engine has a similar rhythm with a gentler, softer tone. In some circles Viragos and Rebels and other two-fifties are regarded as girls’ bikes, though there are plenty of men who ride them as well. They handle well and get great mileage.

Now you’re ready to go. The left hand squeezes the clutch. The left foot steps down on the shift. There is a click and a slight jolt. You’re in first gear. The right hand twists the throttle, while the left slips the clutch. The two hands must coordinate their actions. Slip the clutch without enough gas and you might kill the engine. Give too much gas and you’ll rev the engine too high. Neither of these is a very “pro” move.

The bike eases the few yards down the driveway. The left hand squeezes the clutch in, and you pause to look both ways. There’s nothing on the street. So you turn onto it and you’re off!

In first gear the engine revs high immediately. With a flick of the right wrist the gas backs off. The left hand squeezes the clutch; left foot pulls up under the gearshift. There’s a click and you’re in second. If you did it all right there’ll be minimal jolting and revving. Repeat the sequence and you’re in third. Again, and you’re in fourth. Once more and you’re in fifth. Soon you’re up to cruising speed.

As you ride, your eyes keep shifting, now looking ahead for possible obstacles, now to the sides to watch for animals, down to check the speedometer, then to one or another of the rear-view mirrors. Obstacles that would only inconvenience a car can throw a motorcycle rider. You have no seatbelts or metal shell to protect you in a collision. All this is not something to be afraid of, just something to bear in mind. A bike is more vulnerable when trouble strikes. It can also dodge problems that a car can’t. Just keep your eyes tracking, so that nothing gets past you. Situational awareness is everything.

Here comes your turn. The left thumb hits the turn signal. The right hand backs off of the throttle, right foot presses down on the rear brake pedal, right hand squeezes the front brake lever—all in that order. As the bike slows, the left hand squeezes the clutch. Left foot presses down on the gear shift—click, fourth gear, click again, third gear. The turn is onto a narrow road and needs to be slow…click once more, and second gear.

At your reduced speed you lean and bank, coasting through the turn. Then rev, squeeze, click, and you’re back up to third gear, again and you’re in fourth, once more and you’re back to fifth. In the midst of this the left thumb kills the no-longer-needed turn signal.

You ride with your whole body. This kinesthetic experience is part of what’s fun about motorcycle riding. Every limb has something to do, some controls to work. You lean and bank to get around rough spots and possible obstacles. When you must hit a bump you tense your limbs to take up some of the shock and reduce the jolt to the bike.

After a while you notice that the sun is well up and providing its full light. You find a spot to pull over and stop. The right thumb hits the kill switch. As soon as the motor dies you flip the switch back. Then turn off the key, put down the kickstand, and make sure the bike and handlebars are at a stable angle. Now you exchange those amber glasses for the safety sunglasses.

While you’re at it, you get a sip of water. You’re already sweating, though the wind instantly evaporates it so that it does not accumulate. The wind sucks the moisture right out of you on a bike; you’ve got to make a point of staying hydrated.

Back on the road, your eyes tracking, always tracking. You can’t spare more than a moment’s glance at the scenery while you’re in motion. Many such glances give you an impression of the scenery—the trees and houses, the fields and fences, the green earth and blue and white sky. As you crest a high hill you see a wall of sky in front of you. Over the crest and you see a panorama of terrain below.

When you see a sharp bend ahead, you ease off the throttle and slow down, braking if you must, before you enter the turn. As you move into the turn you accelerate slightly, giving yourself plenty of centrifugal force to keep on the road. You lean and bank as needed, depending on the speed and sharpness of the turn. Whatever you do, don’t try to slow down while you’re turning! On a winding road you may go through miles of slowing and accelerating, slowing and accelerating, as you pass through successive turns.

You are immersed in the environment through which you ride. You feel the wind. You feel the heat of the sun as you leave a patch of shade, and the sudden chill as you ride through pockets of cooler air in sheltered hollows. Your ears are full of the rushing wind and the rumble of your engine. It feels a little like how flying must feel. You have the sense that you can go anywhere you want today.

Now and then you stop and get a drink and stretch your legs. As the day grows warmer you may stow that long-sleeved garment. Ideally you should have long sleeves on all the time for protection, but if the day is hot enough the need to stay cool can trump that. As long as the slipstream blows on you you’ll feel surprisingly cool, even in blistering July heat.

If you’re going far and it’s a good day you’ll surely see other bikers. There may be some who don’t think much of your girly little two-fifty bike. Most will recognize you as one of them. You’ll exchange waves as you pass. If you meet while stopped for gas or other needs you’ll pass the time of day about where you’re going and what kind of day for riding it is.

So you ride, stopping when you need to, taking photos, admiring the scenery, visiting with friends or whatever else you had planned for this trip. At some point you reach your destination. You stop for the last time, and the day’s riding is done.

WOW! Riding a bike is a lot more complicated then I'd imagined. You have to do so many things just right. You really got all the details in, DL. Thanks for sharing another great story. I really enjoyed reading it.

It's not as hard as I might be making it sound. If you can ride a bicycle and are old enough to drive a car you can learn to ride a motorcycle. It just takes practice and a good teacher. The practice is fun!

D.L. could give us all lessons!

More like my Dad could!

Heh. I think the way you described it, you could as well. Just because YOUR teacher is good doesn't make you less than he.

Thanks, but I am YEARS away from having enough experience to be able to teach somebody to ride. I've got much of the head knowlege I need. But a really good rider needs much more practice than I've had yet. Dad's certainly working on that. He has had me out in a lot of different kinds of terrain and riding conditions. He wants to be sure he's taught me everything he can before he turns me loose.

Although I've got confidence in Dad's teaching, I am considering taking some kind of certified riding instruction. That's if I can find someone within in reach who can do it! That's something I intend to check on.