Photo by Joe Berk, www.MotoFoto.cc

Every motorcycle gets categorized in some manner. There is displacement, brand, horsepower, riding position, intended use, number of gadgets on board… The distinctions are endless and taken very seriously by some… If you don’t ride “X” then you can’t run with the crew…In effect, the rider gets lumped in with the bike category.

But I like to draw the lines in a different fashion. We all fall somewhere between the extremes of show-bike polishers (bikes that never get dirty), and hard-ridden bikes that never get cleaned!

Whether we like it or not, we all fit somewhere along the "Bell Curve of Clean" when it comes to our rides. And there are many, many shades of grey between those who make a fetish of polishing and those who prefer to let nature take its course.

I envy those special few who have bikes that will never see the rain. Bikes with the chrome so brilliant that it hurts in sunlight. (But we mustn’t leave them in the sun too long – might fade the paint you know…)  I love those machines that take centre stage at big bike shows… and oh the paint, the chrome and the sparkle! Bikes as Art. Granted these show-stoppers are at the extreme end of the Bell Curve. In fact, many of them are right off the end of the chart as they have never seen pavement, much less a raindrop.

At the other end is the chap in his weathered, oiled-cotton Belstaff, cheerfully waving to all as the clock ticks over 200,000+ miles. His bike is not new, and the colour is now only vaguely distinguishable thru the coating of travel grime over sun-faded paint. But the motor is tight, the tires are new and the bearings are good … and he rides, and rides. And how! But, cleaning, polishing, detailing, more cleaning, and wiping, -- not on the agenda. The only water that his bike has seen for years has been either rain or road spray. The bike is his or her ticket to the world.  No high tech, fragile gadgets here; just a reliable ride that racks up the miles while the rest of the motorcycle world looks on in astonishment. Function, not looks, is the order of the day.

And the rest of us? Well, we fall somewhere between the two extremes. We would like our bike to look showroom perfect, but it doesn’t. So we wipe the bugs off the windshield and the dust off the top of the mufflers. We clean the top and sides of the tank and give the obvious bits of chrome a quick wipe, and we hope the tankbag doesn’t scratch the paint. And then we ride. Occasionally, in a fit of enthusiasm, we spend part of a day with some soapy water and a bottle of Armor-All and maybe even a bit of chrome cleaner. But the bike still doesn’t look new, so we put the cleaning stuff away for another few weeks or months, and then we ride some more.  

Maybe the answer lies in multiple bikes. One can be kept sparkling clean and polished to be used for ceremonial Sunday rides. The other bike can be ridden whenever, where-ever, and in whatever weather and road conditions the rider can tolerate.  The more I think about it, the better I like the idea. Only problem is the budget!  But I’m sure there is a perfectly logical reason (somewhere) for buying that dream machine and for keeping it safely in the garage and forever sparkling.

I’d rather be riding! (I guess that tells you where I fit along the curve!) -- Alison Green

I’m not generally one to rant about situations that I cannot control – but the triggered traffic signal lights here in Sudbury get me going. It is such a good idea, but such a royal pain for motorcyclists. Repeated prodding of the local officialdom has gained nothing –yet. 

Forty-five seconds!! Not even a full minute and my car and I have official green-light permission to enter the intersection. Permission not only to enter the intersection, but to perform what ever maneuver we so desire with the full weight of highway traffic act legality behind us. Sheer magic! What could be easier than this? -- I arrive at an intersection from a crossroad and wait a very few seconds for green-light permission to proceed. This is winter in Sudbury and I am piloting my trusty cage. Triggered traffic lights work like a charm.

Come the gentler days of spring and summer when two wheels replace four, and what awaits me is sheer frustration. It appears that the magic green light genie does not do motorcycles – or at least not mine! Is my motorcycle no longer legitimate vehicle? It is plated, inspected, insured and driven carefully and courteously. It would seem that my bike and I are not only invisible to most of the other vehicles on the road, but to the very signals that govern the traffic flow.

Should you be fortunate to live in an area with timed signal lights, or none at all, then this is of little concern unless you wander into some town equipped with triggered traffic lights. It still won’t be any problem if you are piloting a four-wheeled vehicle. If you are riding your bike, beware!

Work obliges me to commute across Sudbury some days and evenings at rather odd hours. There are two intersections with triggered traffic signals that I cannot easily avoid even with the most devious and irregular routes. My options at these corners are limited. I can hope that someone else is ahead of me in a car, which will trip the lights in our favour. I can turn right, then make a “U” turn. I can stop, check both directions and proceed in a most illegal fashion to cross the intersection on the red light. None of these options is satisfactory. My luck is such that there is seldom an obliging vehicle ahead of me to trip the lights. If the cross traffic is moderately busy, doing “U” turns is not a happy prospect on a four lane artery, and crossing against the light makes me squirm in more ways than one… On certain busy intersections, I have been obliged to put the bike into neutral, rest it on the sidestand and dash to the sidewalk to poke the pedestrian crossing button. This makes me feel both vulnerable and foolish, and besides, I have never really trusted the sidestand on my bike. (if you ride and older BMW you will understand)

What annoys me the most about this situation is the total lack of official acknowledgement that there is any reason for concern. “take another route” or “turn right then go around a block.” NO, NO and NO again!!! I want to be treated like any other legitimate vehicle/road user under the Highway Traffic Act. Should I be so foolish as to contravene even the most obscure clause in THE ACT, you can be certain that I will be subject to the full weight of the law, directly applied and with no leniency. I just want to be treated with equal respect by the damn traffic signals. Is this too much to ask?

Occasionally on nice July days, our local constabulary can be seen about town exercising pair of elderly HD police bikes, usually traveling as a team. I would bet my back tire that those bikes, sitting side by side, trip the traffic signals just as any car would. Between weight, vibration and noise, something works… Maybe the solution is for me to acquire a Goldwing or some such behemoth that is sufficiently massive that it is recognized by the signal light genie. Maybe I should just stay out of town…

Having chosen to ride a two wheeled vehicle, I have enough to keep me occupied defying the immutable laws of gravity and the inconsideration of other road users. I definitely don’t need the added inconvenience and aggravation of traffic signals that ignore my existence. Happy riding! -- Alison

A BMW test rider aboard a new 2009 BMW R 1200 R. Sure it's faster and sleeker than an old Bemmer, but is it better?

Occasionally I prowl about on bike-related “forums” on the web. There are plenty of interesting and clever people out there who are willing to share their expertise on all things motorcycle. As I ride somewhat-venerable BMWs, these are the sites to which I gravitate. I’ve picked up quite a few tips; I have been amused, entertained and occasionally annoyed. The very few times that I have participated, someone out in the etherland has kindly supplied me with the information that I sought. Neat!

Back to BMW’s. The old ones are solid, reliable, clunky, slow, and highly sought after by many. The not-quite-so-old ones, say 1970 thru 1985, are even more reliable, slightly faster, solid, sometimes also clunky, and seemingly bulletproof. They are also very user friendly when they need attention. I can attest to this first-hand as my bikes have survived years of my meddling with their works and still perform without surprises. The modern generation of Bavarian bikes are simply astonishing in their complexity, handling, speed, comfort, and through-the-roof prices. Very few will argue with most of these claims. So why don’t I get a newer ride?

Subconsciously, I have been arguing with myself for some time in an attempt to justify the purchase of a newer machine. After all, my ‘new’ bike is now 25 years old. Neither of my bikes is speedy, and many things need adjusting – frequently. But over and above the budget issue, there has always been the niggling suspicion that newer might not mean better in total. There is no argument that the components are much improved: especially power, electrics, brakes and suspension and handling. In other words, the bikes are leap years ahead of the older models in almost every respect that one could mention.

Does this not mean that the bikes are better? What is missing? Why hesitate if the wallet can cope?

Number one on my list is character. This is hard to define and very personal, but any bike with so much plastic shrouding just doesn’t do it! Styling for the skateboard set just doesn’t grab me. Besides, I’m old fashioned enough to want to see at least some of the motor! Also, I am not convinced that I am rider enough for the horsepower on tap on most big new bikes.

The second factor is attitude. Not mine – but the manufacturer’s!  I just couldn’t put my finger on it until I came across a thread on the BMWMOA forum.  Most of the machines produced since 1995 were never intended to become members of the family.  These bikes have high-tech, computer-driven, complex systems that very few can understand, let alone repair or even maintain. These bikes are not meant to be user friendly if things go wrong. If you buy into the market, you are expected to have every little twitch dealt with by the dealer. Warrantees are good for three years – often five, and then you are encouraged to trade up to the latest and greatest and start all over. The intended market is well heeled and doesn’t wish, – or know, how to do even basic maintenance. After three years, if something goes wrong with the bike it is usually serious, expensive and dealer-service only. ABS and integrated brake systems, fuel injection, computer chip technologies controlling all engine functions: these aren’t for even the talented home mechanic. You are essentially expected to buy into the philosophy of ride and trade up! Don’t try to understand it, don’t tinker with it, just ride it then trade it in. Impress everyone with all of the latest technology and go faster, always faster…

I suspect that this same attitude has crept into all manufacturers who serve the North American motorcycle market. Certainly that is the way of all automobiles on the road. It isn’t wrong, but it definitely isn’t right for me.

I like my bikes to be user friendly, even when they are not behaving properly. Besides, I’ve given up trying to impress anyone else. I can’t – my bike doesn’t go fast enough! -- Alison Green

For nine years I was fortunate to live on a beach on Lake Superior and the kayak and canoe were part of everyday life when there wasn’t ice on the lake. Whether exploring the coastline near home, or venturing further, Superior was an integral part of life. One favourite mini-trip involved ferrying a vehicle to a landing 30km down the coast to facilitate a one-way trip – hopefully with a tail wind. On one such jaunt my girlfriend and I packed a good lunch, swimwear, and sun block, grabbed our paddles and lifejackets and sunhats and dragged our kayaks into the water. It was a marvellous, leisurely day of sun and water and fresh air. As we approached the landing we met a lone kayaker and naturally stopped to chat.  He was absolutely flabbergasted that we had just packed lunches and headed out - His kayak had been lashed to the top of his very fancy SUV for a three week trip circumnavigating Lake Superior. At this point he was within two days of completing his tour and this was the first time that the kayak had been in the water! His boat sported compasses (two) satellite radio, spare paddle, paddle floats, sea anchor, water filter kit, trailing rope, flares, and heaven knows what else… as compared to our kit of lunch and snacks and sun-tan oil. Yes, we lived on the lake and were careful about weather conditions, and our partners knew of our plans for the day – but really! He never planned to do overnight trips, but hadn’t even made it onto the water in days and days of driving alongside the lake! He said the conditions just weren’t right!

What does this have to do with motorcycling you ask? Nothing really, but it does illustrate the slippery slope of doing too much research and having too much gear and being so prepared that actually DOING the activity doesn’t happen. Some days I fear that this tendency for gadget-wired, performance-enhanced  motorcycles will actually keep people at home for fear of all of the accoutrements not functioning as advertised.

I keep a quote with me in my daily planner that reads in part --

  “to have a home, small but perfect in comfort, so that the business of existing is subservient to the joy of living”

If applied to the world of motorcycles, the parallel is obvious.  If maintaining the trip blog and programming the GPS, and ensuring that the satellite phone is kept absolutely dry and keeping the weather scanner on the right channel, are causing angst – then some of the magic of travelling by motorcycle is being sabotaged by the very equipment that should free you to enjoy the trip. Where is the pleasure of the ride when mental energy is being spent on such concerns?

Sad indeed is the poor motorcyclist whose fancy radar detector unit malfunctions and lands him with a hefty speeding fine – if one has become utterly dependant on such an item, then its demise can potentially ruin the trip.

I’m all for anything that will improve safety, enhance the pleasures of the trip or make life easier along the way. What does concern me is the tendency for the equipment to take priority over those aspects of motorcycling that we cherish – especially freedom. I fear that many people will be drawn unwittingly into the world of gadgetry because they have been lead to believe that all of this equipment is necessary. It just isn’t so! It is nice to have the options – useful stuff, handy, entertaining in its own way – but not obligatory to the enjoyment of the ride.

Personally I’m fascinated by the new generation of GPS units for motorcycles that come complete with helmet mounted wireless speakers to advise you of every up-coming route decision. They are marvellous inventions that could take a lot of the worry out of navigating through unknown cities or back-country roads. But I’m just not in that much of a hurry most of the time, and I enjoy stopping to check the map. I enjoy planning with paper maps and marking my planned routes – then deviating from the plan… sometimes I even enjoy getting lost! We are collectively in danger of forgetting the real reason that we ride a motorcycle in the first place. It is the RIDE – not just getting to the destination that is paramount.

Seriously, the equipment that is available now is astonishing and very functional. I just hope that people don’t forget that most of this stuff is an option and not mandatory.

A safe and appropriate motorcycle, proper gear, good health and a positive and sober mind – these are the necessities for enjoying a ride. Good weather helps too!

Ride safe, and don’t forget to wave! -- Alison Green

Have you ever been thoroughly soaked while riding your motorcycle? Not just damp around the edges wet, but the shivering “I’ll never be warm and dry again” kind of wet? Your gloves feel like sponges and your fingertips are numb; every piece of clothing is uncomfortably stuck to your body; your toes are floating in their own little ponds and your face hurts from squinting through the rain splatters?

Why? Why do we do this to ourselves? 

I like to imagine that those fortunate souls who live in the sunny south never experience these sorts of character-building inclement conditions. But who needs it? My character can manage quite nicely without the body-numbing cold that comes from riding too long in the rain. Even snow! I’d bet my last dollar that I’m not the only fool living in Canada or the northern U.S. who has arrived at his or her destination encased in ice. Are we collectively crazy? Off the deep end completely?

I suppose that the answer depends on who is doing the asking.  I have yet to meet a determined non-rider who had even an inkling of the ‘why’ of motorcycling. You either have it or you don’t! How do you explain the motivations for a spin on a crisp autumn morning with the frost just starting to burn from the grass? It takes ages to gear up, then the bike is a bit cranky about the cold start, and you fog up your face shield even before you leave the driveway. Then part way through the day, the sunshine disappears and you face too many miles of sharp, stinging rain on the homebound leg… but it was heaven!  The sun was warm on your back, the breeze smelled almost edible, pungent with autumn; the temperature fluctuated astonishingly with every hill and valley, the engine was music to the ears... You feel alive. Your head is clear, your eyes are sparkling and just for a while, all is right with the world.... Meanwhile, your significant other has only overheard the pre-trip mutterings about fuel prices and overly snug gear and misplaced glasses… And later when you return home, you are damp and smell of wet cowhide. Chilled and hungry, you shed a trail of dripping gear as you head for the shower to thaw out. How could an ‘outsider’ possibly understand? I don’t know myself, and I have been searching the road for the answers for many, many miles.

But I do know that after a good ride, I feel invigorated and less at odds with myself and the rest of the world. Call it meditation if you will, or good karma, or blowing the carbon out of my head... It is good for the soul. The discomforts are part of the price — and worth every penny.

If  those who stay behind see only a dishevelled and damp rider with mud stains and cold fingers and a bad hair day,  then so be it.  We know, and they don’t — and that is their loss! Some things will never change…

Ride safe and keep warm! — Alison Green