I became bored riding on the back of my husband’s motorcycle. I decided the next logical step for me of course, was to get my own motorcycle. I envisioned myself as a sexy, feminine rider. I would master the twisties and finally get a tattoo. Something pretty, maybe a sugar skull. And I could even join an all-female biker club. My husband, excited at the prospect of having a live in riding buddy, bought me lessons with an former state trooper, Smitty, for my birthday and a 2008 Honda 750 Shadow for Christmas. I was all set. All I needed was a license and the open road.
It was a cold spring day when I had my first lesson. The class was evenings and weekends in a subway parking lot that didn’t have a lot of traffic. I had never operated any kind of motorcycle myself before and it had been a long time since I rode a bicycle. But how hard can it be? I know how to shift a car and it should be a similar concept, right? Smitty gives us a pep talk that it’s okay if we drop the bikes and damage them, but we must always have on our protective gear and always cut the engine on impact. Pshaw, who’s dropping a bike, maybe those other amateurs, but I think I’m going to be a natural.
The first lesson is me on a beat up Honda Nighthawk in first gear and Smitty walking behind me holding onto the bike like a parent teaching their child how to ride a bicycle. He lets go and I’m riding by myself! This is fun! And not too difficult. Sexy biker girl is not too far away! We go back and forth a few more times just getting a feel for the balance of the bike and the brakes.
Lesson two, we hop on the bikes and we are going to learn the gears. Again in a straight line in the lot back and forth in first gear, then a little faster, my foot taps the gear leaver up into second. Now we are going to take a trip around the lot to try out the other gears. First gear, second, third, okay this is easy, now fourth. Stop sign. Not ready to down shift yet so I’m going to pull in the clutch. Only I don’t squeeze the break and for some really brilliant reason, I gun the engine which causes me to panic, so I let go of the clutch and I go sailing out of control through the stop sign and over a curb and then another curb and then splat. I’m on the ground. But I remember to cut the engine!
I’m shaken, but the following day I’m back on the bike still super enthused. I was doing great going 20 miles an hour around the little section of the parking lot. “Pick up the pace” Smitty shouted to me. I was just getting my sea legs, that’s all (I really am petrified of speed though). But I crept up to 40 and shifted into fourth. I was approaching the stop and not about to make the same mistake as the first lesson. I would shift into neutral. Beautiful, I stopped with no incident. I need to exhale and wipe the sweat off of my hands. Splat, to the ground I fall with the bike. I didn’t have to cut the engine, because this time I stalled it. Turns out I wasn’t in neutral. It’s good that Smitty didn’t mind his bikes taking abuse, because that time I broke off the clutch lever.
The following weeks he taught us how to slow ride by using the foot break only. He taught us how to maneuver through tightly placed cones (wherever you look is where you’ll go) and most of all how to pass the skills test for the M class license. And I was terrible. I drove the bike into a creek and once didn’t put the kickstand down all of the way and ended up with the bike on top of me (again). Smitty was incredibly patient and allowed me to take as long as I needed. Others were graduating (goodie goodies) and getting their M class, but not me, I was special. It’s hard work becoming a sexy motorcyclist. But when am I going to be sexy on this thing? Because right now, I’m a disaster. Why did my husband have to go buy me a stinking bike anyway? Shouldn’t he have seen if I’m capable first? As usual this is all his fault. But I kept at it.
Finally, the day came when Smitty said I was ready to take the test. I was to meet him at a lot around the area of the DMV prior to my appointment for a little practice time. I get on the bike and begin to make the U turn that I will be tested on and what do ya know? Yup! I drop the bike and break off the clutch lever… again. He replaces it… again and we head over to the DMV. I was so nervous I could have poo’d in my pants. It felt like the hottest day of the year and sweat is trickling into my eyes from underneath my helmet. The skills test involves, an engine start, U Turn, sharp right turn, cone weave, normal stop, quick stop, obstacle swerve and a turn from a stop. Aced the engine start. WooHoo! All was going great and now it was time for the quick stop. Did I mention that I am uncomfortable with speed? No? I’m ascared to go fast and for this part of the test you have to speed up to a certain speed and then come to a quick stop. I do it and don’t drop the bike! Yes!
Now it’s time to see if I passed. Gulp. The object is to not score any points. If you score 12 and above you fail. She reads my score. 11! Points for not going fast enough on the quick stop. I’ll take it. I was never so happy to get something over with in my life.
But my tale doesn’t end there. I had to learn how to ride my Shadow, which seemed like a huge bike, even though everyone was telling me it was the perfect size for me. I was terrified, knees knocked every time I got on the bike and I began to wonder how badly road rash hurt. The first couple of times we just puttered around the neighborhood. Then my husband says it’s time to go on the road. “I’m not ready.” I whine. He wasn’t having it. We have to make a left turn out of the development. Suddenly, this left turn seemed incredibly daunting. I looked like I had just snorted an eight ball, my palms were sweating, and I was not sexy. I just felt scared. I look right, then left and notice the grassy field where a church sits across the street. I look right again. I turn left out of the development and guess what? Wherever you look is where you go. I ended up in that grassy field with the bike on top of me. I did cut the engine.
The second time I dropped my bike was the last time I ever dropped a motorcycle again. I stalled the bike, yes again. That was it. I’m never going to be a sexy and feminine motorcyclist. I’m going to be a dead mangled motorcyclist if I keep it up. I sold my bike the following week.
I learned a few things however from this experience. I learned that I rather like riding with my husband. I do some of my best thinking on the back of the bike, it’s very Zen like for me. It’s also a nice time for him and me to bond without feeling as if we have to have a lot of conversation. I also learned once again, that I really can’t do everything that I set my mind to. We don’t necessarily do everything we want to do well. No such thing as a special snowflake. When I learn this humbling lesson, it allows me to not waste time striving for perfection, I just try my best. And lastly, I’m a terrible motorcycle rider. I should never, ever, attempt that again. However, I tried it and I can add another notch in my belt. It’s all a part of living a well lived life I guess.
Photo: Flickr
