“It is a significant act of trust to ride with someone else. You assume responsibility for each other’s safety.”  

The above quote is from Richard Stewart as published in Cycle Canada cc First Person, March 2007. 

Yes and yes again! I have not given this a lot of thought lately as I ride alone most of the time. There is a static comfort level achieved when riding alone, and then there is the complex pleasure of sharing the ride with others. I truly enjoy the whole motorcycle experience when shared; the rides, the roads, the bike chats, coffee stops, camping… but it doesn’t often happen for me – so I cheerfully head down the road and sing to myself! 

Finding a compatible riding partner is somewhat like successfully locating mate – and just about as difficult.  And yes, it does boil down to trust. But there is more! Awareness of your partner at all times and sympathetic riding style doesn’t begin to cover all of the pitfalls that can turn a good road into a bad ride with the wrong company.  There are the obvious factors: type of bike, style of riding, choice of routes, speed, bladder capacity… the list is long and complex. But over and above the physical parameters of the riders and styles, there is a need for sympathetic vibes between riders -- A synergy of sorts that eases the individual load and makes for a truly shared ride. It is magic when it happens but can be misery, and tending to unsafe, when it does not happen. 

If I am just out for a short Sunday ride with a known route or destination, there is no problem. Faster riders get there first, more leisurely ones later, and those with questionable on-road behaviour that frightens me completely – I simply avoid. But what of that long-planned trip?   Do you really know how safely your friend rides, or how compatible your riding styles are over the long haul? I’ve heard some horror stories of tension and angst and anger – all because the riders were doing their own thing along the way and riding compatibility suffered. 

Obviously, the odds of finding good riding partners increase drastically when all concerned have chosen the same genre of machine. One can hardly expect the ‘Busa pilot to hang out happily with the cruiser set. But do you always push the envelope and get your thrills from adrenalin? Do you like to pause along the way to appreciate the scenery and the day? Do you have to stop frequently for a smoke and a coffee or do you ride until the bike needs fuel? Camping or luxury? Maximum speed or maximum enjoyment?  The variables are almost infinite… 

In the early 80’s I was living in Calgary, Alberta and my main ride was a smoke-red R100RT. I was discussing plans for my upcoming ride to northern Ontario when my then- BMW dealer (Roger Reuben) mentioned that another customer and good friend of his was also heading east. Did I want company? To make a long story short, John Heppleston and I left Calgary very early (0400) and had breakfast at Strathmore just east of Calgary.  Three long hard days to reach Timmins (northern Ontario near the Quebec border) and I have never felt so utterly comfortable and safe sharing the riding experience.  If I remember correctly, John rode a faired R100/7 and we clicked right from the start. Hard miles for both of us: Calgary/Brandon, Brandon/ThunderBay, Thunder Bay/Timmins. It was brutal – but fun as we developed complete trust in the other’s riding skills and attention to the road. Neither of us would have ridden so hard had we been alone – the synergy between us was amazing and I treasure that ride to this day.  John and I have remained good friends although moves and marriages and jobs have kept us from riding together since that trip. Someday I hope we can share the riding experience again and recapture that elusive magic of energy and telepathy. 

I have certainly happily shared the riding experience with others over the years: Sometimes for an hour, sometimes a day, sometimes across the country, but only when it has been a positive and comfortable fit for all parties. If I am not comfortable, I simply go it alone. Less stress, easier, and safer for all. 

Check your mirrors and keep track of your riding buddies – both their safety and yours depends on it! -- Alison Green 

It is all in the semantics… “Restoration” invokes images of powder-coated frames and blue-printed motors – the end result being a vehicle that shows significantly more precise and expert attention to detail than the original ever could. I’ve never attempted to go that far with any project…  not really interested in investing that amount of time and/or money in something that will never pay back the effort when/if the time comes to sell.  Old bikes can be a bottomless sump for money and time unless one is prepared to do the work solely as a labour of love.  Love is a viable motive – profit isn’t. 

Now I know. 

My winter projects were not ‘restorations’ at all, but rather ‘rejuvenations’.  I saw this word used in a motorcycle for-sale advert and realized that it was the semantics of my hobby that was causing me discomfort – not the work itself.  I’ve have always felt somewhat of a fraud when using any derivative of the word ‘restore’ – but no other came to mind.  My intent has never been to produce a motorcycle that was perfect in every way – better than original. To my mind, the original tooling on the Airhead BMW motorcycles was generally top-flight. Any yes, there are a few serious oversights on the part of the manufacturer – none of their designs is perfect. With few exceptions however, machining, fit and finish have always been quality – so excessive aftermarket upgrading of old machines seems to be a bit over-the-top.  I am a rider - not a collector, but I can appreciate the lure of the perfectly preserved (rare as hens’ teeth) or the restoration done to perfection. But I can’t afford one! 

So when a tired and abused old bike finds itself in my shop, the aim is to rejuvenate it – to bring it back to life as a functional, reliable and cosmetically acceptable ride. Ergo, the dented tank and chopped fenders and surface rust must be dealt with – but minor stone chips on the down-tubes and wear-burnished pin-stripes on the tank, and innumerable other minor blemishes can be worn with the pride of time and miles. 

If the engine is tight and the electrics all work properly, if the bodywork looks great from a few feet away and the chrome pieces look like chrome – then I am content.  I lean toward function, not fashion. I have never owned a bike that could be considered ‘concours’ as I am just not sufficiently enthusiastic about cosmetic maintenance.  My bikes are clean, properly maintained, mechanically sound and well used.  The stress that comes with the purchase of a new and perfect bike, or concours restoration, is not for me. Minor scuffs and scrapes and marks of miles ridden (on the bike – not me) make for a much less stressful relationship. 

My last factory-new bike was a smoke-red 1981 R100RT. I loved that bike, but riding it was very tense for part of the first season. It was too perfect – too pretty, and I was terrified of scratching it. Some stone chips collected on a fast ride in the hill country near Cochrane, AB. and a driveway tip-over – all in the same week - put an end to the too- perfect-bike angst. After that it was clear sailing for 50K until I sold the bike many years later. Since that time, I have always purchased pre-owned bikes. Someone else has added the first badges of honour, and I can tour serenely and not fret about the minor scuffs, stone-chips and stains that will accumulate with the miles and memories. 

Someday maybe I will have the budget (and garage space) for that immaculate, show-room-perfect motorcycle. Until then, I will continue to enjoy riding my very nice looking but well-used bikes. Like the old saying about canoes – longitudinal scrapes on the bottoms are badges of honour – cross-wise scratches are marks of poor handling and bad decisions. Hopefully we can continue to collect honour badges for many more years and miles. -- Alison Green 

If you have been piloting a motorcycle for more than a few years, I’m certain that you are only too well acquainted with the potential for grief from natural hazards. I’m not talking about weather and road conditions, but about running afoul of things large and hairy. There are moose, deer, bear, dogs, raccoons and a host of other fur coated wanderers just waiting to sabotage your ride. Occasionally there is something even more bizarre!

First the big ones -- moose and deer. Same family, but different habits. For those who live in deer country, the sight of a pair of ears poking up from the ditch brings an instant adrenalin rush. To put it mildly, deer are unpredictable. Their ability to leap is prodigious, and their ability to think (at least regarding traffic) is severely limited. The best approach; slow down and cover the brakes. Better yet, if possible, avoid riding in deer country at dusk and dawn when deer are most active.  Deer are almost never aggressive, just confused and flighty and impossible to out-guess. Slow down.

Moose on the other hand are generally less flighty, but they can be cranky and are big enough to make anyone pay attention. They are also most active at dusk and dawn, especially in the early spring, although sightings are possible any time of year. Their dark, rough coats do not reflect any light at night, and their eyes seldom shine in the glare of headlights: when they do reflect, moose eyes show red. Hard riding at night in moose country can be a recipe for disaster. Occasionally they seem to enjoy standing on the pavement and contemplating life. It is unwise to ride close up behind such an animal and lean on the horn -- it may indeed shuffle off into the bush, but it also may decide to challenge you and your defenseless little bike! This is not good. Be polite. Moose are big.

Elk and wild sheep also have a habit of standing about on the road, but collisions are less likely with these, partially because their presence is expected, even anticipated, in specific areas. Domestic cattle are just plain stupid on the road, and they are formidably large and potentially lethal. Slow down immediately.  Horses can be more prone to panic, but are fortunately seldom at large.

As for other furry things that wander across the road, all are to be avoided if possible.

Bear collisions are mercifully few, but the potential exists. Skunks and porcupines are not only large enough to dent a front rim; they have nasty side-effects. Raccoons can be a tremendous size. Consider anything larger than a squirrel as a serious threat to your ride. Carcasses of any sort should also be avoided if possible; compounding the yuck factor, bones and quills can puncture tires, and the mess can be slippery. Not good!

Consider this: It's mid-June 2001 on the Trans Canada Highway in northern Ontario. The weather is nice, it's mid-afternoon and there is a semi-trailer load of lumber on its side on the outside of a curve. There are no skid marks on the pavement. Fortunately, the driver was not hurt, nor was he sleepy or ‘under the influence’ when he crashed.  

What happened? Caterpillars happened!

In an area of almost solid poplar re-growth, this was a banner year for army caterpillars. The foliage had been denuded on the south side of the road and the ‘army’ was making its way en-masse across the highway. From a distance the pavement looked wet, but up close it was slimy with flattened caterpillars. The resulting goo was so slippery that when the driver touched his trailer brakes to steady the rig in the curve, he lost traction and slid sideways as if on ice. Just think what it would have done to your two-wheeled traction!

Ever considered what smacking into a large bird would feel like? Seagulls, ducks, geese, crows -- any of these birds are substantial enough to unseat an unprepared rider -- and it has happened. Even crows, which are generally smart about staying alive in traffic, have problems with motorcycles. If there are birds feeding on or near the road ahead of you, scrub some speed and give them a chance to clear -- especially in the autumn when waterfowl flock. Slow down. Ducks are not the smartest of birds and often take off in bunches, fast and low and at windshield height. The best technique is to not be taken by surprise and watch your speed in hazardous bird situations.

Almost every region has its own unique selection of natural hazards. Travel in foreign lands brings with it the potential for exotic hazards; furry, feathered or otherwise - but the same approach works in almost all situations.

Scrub some speed, cover the front brake and maintain super vigilance. It does pay off. -- Alison Green 

My work takes me far from civilization and roads and motorcycles – consequently in the spring and summer months there are periods when I can only dream about riding; so I read about riding instead. And like a child with a favorite blanket, I return again and again to David Hough’s books Proficient Motorcycling and More Proficient Motorcycling. 

If the titles sound dry, the reading certainly isn’t. Yes, there is a comprehensive discussion about accident statistics and motorcycle dynamics… but mostly it is down to earth, common sense stuff. The kind of information that I read and then say to myself “I knew that” – but I needed to be reminded that I knew it! 

I have probably thumbed through his books a half dozen times each, and every time there is some tid-bit of advice that registers and the light goes on. If you haven’t taken a recent serious look at your riding skills, or even if you have, these books make good sense. We owe it to ourselves and our families to ride in as safe a manner possible. And that means paying attention to the details. And no, I don’t mean detailing the chrome on the bike! 

We need to constantly maintain our awareness of the machine and its condition. Tire pressures, cables, lights, controls, brakes – these things matter and shouldn’t be left to chance. Are the mirrors adjusted to best advantage? How quickly will the bike stop from 30mph? 50mph? Do you know?? 

We need to be awake and aware of our own condition.  Are we alert and calm and focused and fit? Do we have the right gear for the conditions and for possible changes in the weather?  Is our favourite helmet a good one, and in good condition – or just the most comfortable in spite of the dents and scratches?  Will the allergy medication that we took at breakfast affect our ability to maintain focus? 

We need to know our route and be prepared for those seasonal annoyances that we will encounter.  This might mean anything from the never-ending summer ritual of highway re-surfacing; the ebb and flow of cottage traffic on the weekends; to the combination of bug smeared windshields and sudden summer rainstorms – and he list goes on. It is up to the rider to be mentally and physically prepared for the variables and plan ahead. Simply re-routing or re-scheduling can often make a big difference to the smooth flow and ultimate enjoyment of a ride. 

Are our riding skills – both mental and physical – up to the task? Is counter-steering just some vague idea or is the technique consciously practiced? How far down the road do you normally scan when riding along? Does late apex cornering actually mean anything? Do you find yourself drifting wide on sweepers and occasionally straying over the centreline? Do you know what happens to the bike if you snap off the throttle or touch the brakes when leaned over hard in a corner? How consistently do you use the front brake to its maximum advantage? 

It is never too late to learn – and if we stop learning,  then guaranteed we will cease to be safe riders.  The next time you grab your helmet and start hunting for your gloves, ask yourself the question - “Am I prepared to ride safely and defensively, or am I just going along for the ride?”  Don’t be too proud to be safe. An empty parking lot and just twenty minutes of riding time can go a long way towards reminding yourself of half-forgotten skills and rusty techniques.    

Not only can we be safer and smarter riders, the fun factor goes up exponentially as our skills increase. 

Keep learning, and the ride goes on and on and the smiles just get bigger… 

Don’t forget to wave! -- Alison Green 

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