Rilea Bound.


"I need to go to Camp Rilea."

"OK."

"It's a little over a hundred and fifty miles one way."

"Is it worth the trip?"

"Yes. Need to troubleshoot a problem and touch base with a customer."

"OK."

"I'm taking the bike."

"Have a nice ride."

Thus went the conversation between the boss and I. Which is how I found myself on the road to the Northern Oregon Coast. 330 some miles. Six and a half hours on the bike. An hour or so on the job. Not a bad work day. As it turned out, going the day before would have been a bit better weatherwise on the coast. Not that I'm complaining, mind you.

The ride over was fairly routine. I tend to take the direct route to someplace when I'm riding for work. Get done what I need to do. Explore and play afterwards. Yesterday was no different. Elvira and I hit the freeway to Portland and then headed West on the Sunset Highway. Elvira's thermometer indicated between 57 and 61 degrees ( F ) depending on how the morning sun hit the roadway. I had a sweatshirt on under the 'Stich. Coincidentally, the sweatshirt says Aerostich on it, too. It's perfect for cool mornings. Not too bulky, but of a dense material.

Somewhere about 1600 feet in altitude we crested the summit and headed down towards the coast. Sunshine gave way to that typical coastal fog and gloom. There was a hint of moisture against my face when I raised the visor. Just enough to be refreshing.

A bit after 10:30 AM saw us pulling into the entrance to the military reservation.

As is to expected these days, you have to pass inspection at a guard station. Pretty routine. What are you doing here? May I see your ID please? Do you have any weapons? Oops.

My first reaction was to copy a bit of dialog from a Tommy Lee Jones movie. U.S. Marshalls. He asks the guy ( who turns out to be the Bad Guy ) if he has a weapon. The guy says,

"Yeah, a big one. How about you?"

Tommy's reaction is what mine would have been.

"Are you sure you want to get cute with me, Kid?"

I'm sure the guard wouldn't have appreciated it so I squelched the impulse.

I've carried concealed for so long I don't even think about it anymore. What was the penalty for carrying onto a military base? Actually, why should it matter? It's not like there's not already a bunch of guns here, you know? Except maybe they want to be the only ones that have them.

I told the guard about the pistol. Also that I had no cannons or explosives. Like that would make the pistol less of a threat in comparison. The guard asked me for my CCL. Satisfied, he gave it back to me and waved me on past.

People with toys like this probably don't need to be worried about a pistol.

Now, if there were some way to conceal one of these babies. They would come in handy in certain traffic situations. I'm going to have to start shopping for a bigger tank bag!

After leaving Rilea, I braved Highway 101 and headed up to Astoria. All the North-South traffic has to use this stretch. At least to my knowledge. There's a new Home Depot just South of Warrenton. Now there's more activity right across the Highway. Robinson Construction is building a Costco. Yikes!

I had a stop to make at Tongue Point Job Corps. We had done some warranty work there early in the year. As you may have guessed, I kind of like messing with people's minds. The trouble is that there's a lot of unarmed opponents when playing Mind Games. Anyway, I decided to go do a quick check on things.

The building involved is the mess hall. I arrived in the middle of the lunch hour. The place was hopping with kids. Standing near the door and watching the line of kids come in was this woman. I'd had a bad experience with her on my previous trip. Let's just say she was pretty demanding with a less than pleasant personality. I still had the riding gear on with the coat unzipped. As I walked by her, I saw no spark of recognition in her eyes. I guess I was a peon not worth remembering. I put up with stuff in the line of work that I won't personally. Today I owed her nothing. As she looked at me, she asked,

"Can I help you?"

I gave her the cold, hard, stare that cops work so hard on.

"No."

That was it. No explanation. I just let it hang there between us. She didn't know what to say. I could see her mind going a mile a minute. Does she call whatever security they might have? Does she personally challenge me? As I passed by her I could almost hear a couple of sputters. In the end, she did nothing but watch me go by and out the far end of the building. I sort of expected to be stopped at the gate on my way out, but the guard that had let me in just waved as I left.

Lunch happened in a Safeway parking lot. Both Elvira and I got a bit of fuel. I find that when I'm on the bike, I don't like to let too much take me away from riding. Like lunch breaks in a restaurant. The weather was still gray, but it was nice to look out at the Columbia River for a bit.

As I was standing there sipping coffee, a guy in a beat up old car drove by. He'd pulled out of the fuel station. There was a black point and shoot camera sticking out the window. As he drove by he snapped a photo of Elvira and I. Weird. I had an impulse to run him down and see what he was up to, but let it go.

Now that business was done, I headed down the coast towards Tillamook. Thirty miles North of there, the road heads up high onto a bluff. The fog was so thick it was actually a heavy drizzle. Everything was wet as if it were raining. Spray was coming up from traffic. That lasted a few miles and then things dried out again. It's around 75 miles to Tillamook from Astoria. It was one of the most frustrating rides of my life. The highway was packed with motorhomes, trucks, or head-up-the-ass drivers. Two hours of my life passed by stuck in traffic with little place to pass. Not that passing helped. I'd go by somebody to find myself trapped two minutes later. Where's that tank when you need it? The only relief was in Rockaway Beach. Not from traffic, but from boredom. Just shoot me now, will you? This was a major mistake.

I was standing up on the pegs for most of the stretch through the town. The speed limit is 30 mph. Nobody could have gotten a speeding ticket if they tried. A Rockaway cop pulled out of a side street and followed me. I stayed up on the pegs for a bit longer. My butt and knees were feeling the strain of so much slow riding. Technically, if a cop really wanted to be a hero about it, I could be cited for reckless riding. Like a stunter, you know. I guess the cop decided a real stunter wouldn't be in a hi-viz 'Stich and left me alone. I was almost sorry he did.

Finally, I got to Hebo. Highway 22 heads inland here. Along a river. Which means tight twisties. A pain in a car, paradise on a sleek, sporty, bike. Did I mention that the FJR has a real sporty side? Slow traffic was easily dispatched. Pegs were scraped. Good humor was restored. God, have I really turned into "that kind of rider"?

Once inland, the mercury climbed from 66 to around 90 degrees. Just hot enough to make a cold beer taste good when I arrived home a bit after 5. Drinking a toast to a great work day, to be sure! Yes, I know how lucky I am.

Miles and smiles,

Dan

Letter to myself.

Wednesday was my birthday. I've quit counting, of course. It just doesn't matter anymore. I did find myself considering the fact that I've more riding years behind me than ahead of me. I've been riding for 43 years. I'm pretty sure there's not that many still to come. My life's riding season is well into Fall.

My middle son had a birthday the day before me. He just turned 25. I was awake most of last night thinking about another thing. If I could write a letter to myself at 25 what would I say? A lot, as it turns out. However, since this is a motorcycling blog I limited myself to that subject. That's really been the platform that everything else has been built on, anyway. Looking back, here's what I'd write. It means something to me. It may mean nothing to you. So be it.

So you've turned 25. Let me be the first to congratulate you on still being alive! You've survived a lot for one still so young. An Asian jungle where you lost some buddies. Now your nose is buried in police work. You grew up in an environment where guys proved themselves with their fists. You can thank Gramp for that. Yet, he also taught you about honor, respect, and duty. About how you never touched a woman in anger. Gramp was a man who should have lived in the Old West. He immersed you in that same cowboy code. Complete with horses, rodeos, and horseshows when rodeo got too hard on his body As time goes by it will seem like fewer and fewer people are showing these traits. Don't cave in and become apathetic. These qualities will always matter. Lead by example.

Never lose the piss and vinegar. Those elements are too deeply ingrained into your being. Besides, it makes life a lot more fun! Doors will open because of it that might otherwise have remained forever closed. It might amuse you to know that Katie still considers us to be her swashbuckler. The slight limp from that rodeo crash and stomping will stay with you forever. It's okay. Katie says we're Indiana Jones walking like John Wayne. There's much worse things a wife could say about her husband.

The key is to remember that you control the aggression, not the other way around. You must exercise controlled aggression. In other words, be strong enough to be gentle. That's something you will instill in your own sons in the years to come.

I'm going to offer some wisdom about one of your great loves. No, not Katie and your young family. They are certainly your greatest love and will remain that way. This is about your love of riding that's been there since you got that first dirt bike at eight years old. The reason you need this wisdom is because you're at a crossroads, of sorts. So far you've ridden smaller dual purpose bikes. Dirt riding is still hard to resist. Now you're considering trading up to a dedicated street bike. There's this two year old Honda 900 you've got your eye on. You can afford it, now. There's an obstacle besides money, however.

People are saying things to you. They point to your young family. How can you be so irresponsible as to even think about riding one of those dangerous motorcycles? Some people are even calling them "murdercycles". There seems to be no shortage of folks telling you how it's selfish to take the chance of depriving the family of their breadwinner. Nobody should be subjected to the pain and suffering of seeing a loved one maimed, crippled, or killed.

It's starting to get to you. You're a good man who cares about your family. The things people are saying certainly have a validity to them despite the less-than-tactful presentation. You're just about ready to give up riding until some misty and vague time in the "future".

I'm urging you with everything I've got not to give up riding. Sure, there's risks. Most of the family won't approve. At least, not for a long time. On the other hand, you'll gain insights and value far beyond what you can imagine right now. The key is to do it right and to do it for the right reasons. I'm going to leave you hanging there for a bit while I tell you a story about what happened to me today. Bear with me. You'll understand what I'm saying so much better when I'm done.

Today found me on the motorcycle like most days. I'm blessed with riding for work. You'd be amazed to see how far bikes have progressed these days, by the way. I'm riding a 1300cc black beauty made by Yamaha. It's classed as a sport-touring bike, but her wild heart pumps mostly sporting blood. We're a hundred miles from home in Vancouver, Washington. There's a Fred Meyer department store with gas pumps close by. The bike gets fueled. I decide to do the same for myself as it's past lunch time. Your weakness for department store deli counters will probably haunt you for the rest of your life.

Normally I try to park away from the crowd and out by myself. This place was so busy that it just wasn't possible. I scouted out a space next to the building. There were three empty spots. I slotted into the middle one and dismounted. As I was pulling off my gear I noticed a large, silver, Mercury Marquis sedan heading for one of the spots beside me. The driver was an old man alone in the car. Fair or not, I kept a wary eye on him. He didn't just pull smoothly into the spot. It was more of a fit and start kind of thing. He'd pull forward a foot or two and then stop. I watched as he looked at my bike, the car on the other side of him, and the upcoming sidewalk. Satisfied that he was okay, he'd pull forward another foot or two. The recon process would start anew. Finally, with tires bumping against the curb, he was settled.

The Mercury is a big car with big doors. The old man slowly swung the door open wide. He needed a lot of room to maneuver himself out of the car. I noticed that he was careful not to hit the bike with the door. A fact that I greatly appreciated! I saw the cane emerge first. Then the left leg touched the blacktop. Followed by him twisting in the seat. The right foot came out and found terra firma. Standing up was a slow and painful process but he got there. I assumed it was painful judging by the wincing he was doing.

The man looked over at me. His eyes appeared to be all pupil. I couldn't see any colored iris. I wasn't sure if his eyes were actually like that or if it was an effect from the lenses in his glasses. He offered a greeting. I returned it. The old man lingered. He could be resting up for the walk but I felt like he was waiting for something. I had the feeling he was waiting to see if he'd be brushed off or not. Seeing my smile, he looked at the bike and then back at me. Then the old man asked me how I dealt with traffic, bad weather, and some other things.

I knew he wasn't actually after information. He was well past any riding he might ever have done. Besides, I've found that guys who actually used to ride will say so early on. There wasn't any note of challenge in his words. I correctly guessed that he was just hungry for conversation. The old man probably knew that riders liked to tell war stories and he was providing the opening lines of the script. This wasn't about me, it was about connecting with a lonely old man. I gave him a short, but polite answer and turned the conversation back over to him. His face lit up and we were off.

I won't bore you with the details of our conversation. This is really about the connection. He told me that he was there to have a chicken breast and mashed potatoes. The old man told me his trick. You ask the deli clerk to make an indentation in the top of the potato pile. That way, he said, you get more gravy! I told him that I was after some food, too, but I liked the fried chicken strips with some coffee. Would he like to keep me company? Needless to say, we had lunch together.

So what does this have to do with your decision to keep riding? More than you know. Here's the moral of the story.

Remember how I told you to ride, but to do it right and for the right reasons?

The doing it right part is self explanatory. Good training and quality gear will go a long ways in mitigating the risks. The naysayers are correct in that you have the responsibility to look after your family. It's your responsibility to do everything you can to manage the risk of riding. The same as any other risk. Interestingly, giving up riding will not eliminate all risk from your life. There's still plenty of things left waiting to suddenly attack us. So enjoy, but ride prudently.

Providing materially for your family is only a part of the picture.

Katie will prove to be the most loyal and trusted friend you could ever want or imagine. I know you won't really appreciate that until much later. For the next few years life will be full of the pressures and routines of raising children, conducting business, and making a life with your young wife. One day, though, you'll be walking along and holding her hand. Over three decades of being married to that same pretty young bride will be behind you. You'll marvel that this woman is not only your wife and mother to your children, but the closest buddy you've ever had. For right now just remember that she deserves your very best.

You'll be drawn to demanding jobs. You thrive on the personal challenge and proving worthy. Victories are so much sweeter when they're hard fought, aren't they? Deny it if you want, but I know you better than anyone else will ever know you. You and I are one and the same. The downside of these careers will be that some days will leave you totally drained. Other days will leave you wound up tighter than that time you ran over Gramp's new throwing rope with the lawnmower. The rope was wound impossibly tight around the blade shaft. Gramp was would up even tighter. Your wife and family will rightly expect their loving husband and father to be the one coming home to them, not some pissed off jerk.

You've already had a taste of how the motorcycle ride home both drains off the tension and recharges your battery. Life just somehow seems right when you're riding, doesn't it? This is a very good thing. Reap its benefits. All of you will be much better off for it. Remember, they deserve your best. Riding helps bring out that "best".

You also have the responsibility, privilege, and joy of helping your children to realize the fullest potential they're capable of. What kind of humans they turn out to be will depend so much on what you do now. You know what's interesting? Sociologists say that what happens with children in the first fews of their lives sets up what they will be later. At the time children are the most impressionable and vulnerable, young fathers are still trying to find themselves to some extent. How do you lead the way when you're still trying to find it yourself?

Thing of it as guiding your youngsters through a very thick textbook. You may find it comforting to know that you don't have to get to the end of the book yourself right away. All you need to do is keep a few chapters ahead of your pupils! I hope that helps.

This is where we come back to the old man. Remember I earlier told you to keep riding but to make sure you were doing it for the right reasons? It might help to zoom out a bit and look at the bigger picture.

A lot of people don't ride for noble reasons. You know what I'm saying so we'll leave it at this. If a person isn't enough without it, they'll never be enough with it.

It seems people are always being judged for their accomplishments. Some folks leave behind some medical breakthrough or scientific invention that totally changes the world for the better. I'm sorry to say, but we haven't won a Nobel prize or done anything spectacular. If you think about it, the percentage of humans who actually achieve such a thing is pretty small. So how do the rest of us know what we accomplished?

Rather than look at personal accomplishments, what if we looked at what a person helped others to accomplish? It's like having the camera focused on us but then turning it around. Now the focus is outward. This next bit may seem like it rambles a bit. Bear with me. It's the best this old man can do!

A motorcycle will prove to be the physical vehicle that takes you on a spiritual journey. A tremendous amount of physical miles will pass beneath the wheels of your motorcycles. The miles will be far surpassed by the personal growth you will experience in the process. Different people have different vehicles for this journey. Some use meditation. Some use academic study. The list is very long. Motorcycling works for you. You've tried some other things but keep coming back to riding. This is the summation.

Everyone has the duty to become a better person tomorrow than they were today. You are a better person on a motorcycle. Therefore, you have a duty to ride.

Lead by example.

Here is how you focus your reasons for riding. I'm not saying you can't have fun. Boy, would that suck! Ride with a purpose, not just for fun.

People look up to a rider, man or woman, who appears to have it together. I'm talking about the way they ride, the gear, the bike, the quiet confidence, and so on. You've seen examples. The kid who waves from the back seat of the car. The mother in the front seat who looks worried as they look you over. Seeing that you don't appear to be a "threat", her face relaxes into a smile when she sees you waving back at her offspring. You've seen it with men in cars next to you at a traffic control device who look almost envious. You've seen it in the people who approach you at a gas station or a store parking lot. I saw it in the old man who struck up a conversation with me.

Your mantra should be this. People look up to me. I am an example. What am I an example of?

Making the deliberate decision to always exemplify the best while on a bike will spill over into your personal life. The rewards to you, your family, and others who you touch will be tremendous. It all starts on a motorcycle. In fact, for you, none of it will be possible without riding. You need to keep riding for so many reasons.

People already seem to open up to you. Total strangers will tell you the most intimate details of their life. You're puzzled by it. Sometimes it can be a real pain. I'd encourage you to take a look from another angle. The reason people open up to you is because they feel safe near you. That's because you come across as strong and confident. Strong, but gentle. Sound familiar? You're taking what you were taught and internalizing it. Through the process of riding a motorcycle.

I'm not saying you should be the listening post for every soul who needs to express themselves for whatever reason. What I'm saying is that creating that condition is a very valuable skill. Believe me, you'll need it when some of your children become teenagers!

The old man in the Mercury was drawn to me. It cost me absolutely nothing to treat him with respect. Nor to let him enjoy some conversation. It was obvious he was hungry for it. I actually enjoyed his company. You can bet it made his day. In a small way I made his world better. Multiply that by each small encounter you will have. It adds up. Do you want to leave the world the same as you found it or a bit better? I know your answer. Remember, I am you, but older and wiser.

One day you'll discover you have a real passion for training riders, both new and experienced. You'll actually be pretty good at it, if we may say so ourselves! You have this drive to always get better. Lead by example, remember? Your riding skill level will be very high. That same drive to excel combined with caring about people will push you to develop even better communication skills. They will need to trust you and open up to you. In order to get them to point X it's critical to know where they are at the start of the trip. You won't just be teaching people to ride, either. You will be helping them to achieve their own dreams and goals. The same as you did for your children but on a much larger scale. Nobody will ever be as important to you as your kids, but you will certainly affect a large number of people for the better. You won't ever know, exactly, but the sheer odds say you will save a lot of lives. You will save a lot of families from dealing with losing a loved one. A tremendous amount of pain and suffering will be avoided. Not to mention the important fact that you will be helping them to enrich their lives. The same way that your life continues to be enriched through riding.

Some of your students will go on to become instructors themselves. As so the benefit multiplies.

I'd say that's not a bad answer for those accusing you of being selfish at the moment, don't you? If there is a final accounting for humans, your lifelong pursuit of riding a motorcycle will leave some pretty impressive entries on the credit side of the ledger.

So, young man, I wish for you the very best. Keep riding. Trust me. It will all turn out pretty darn well. I envy you, actually. I'm looking in the rearview mirror. For you, though, there's so many possibilities still ahead of you over the handlebars!

P.S. In two or three years there will be a man named Howard. He will open a trendy little coffee shop in Seattle named Starbucks. When the company goes public, buy stock. Lots of it.

Miles and smiles,

Dan

Jewels in the Sky.

This is probably a first for this blog. The post you are about to embark on has absolutely nothing to do with motorcycling. With the small exception that I rode Elvira to this event. Maybe there's some sort of connection between hot air balloon pilots and motorcyclists. I'll leave that to you.

I rode early in the morning to the NW Air and Art Fair. This three day event is marked by hot air balloon launches. This was the first day. Forty two balloons rose to become jewels in the sky.

My thought here was to just share some of the photos from the morning. A couple of things were noteworthy. The balloons lend themselves to pictures. They are beautiful craft without a doubt. Secondly, it was the first time I've gone to an event like this and felt like I sort of knew what I was doing with a good camera. These pictures were taken without the aid of any automatic help from the Nikon. Actually, I did use the aperature priority setting for a few shots. This is the also my maiden voyage in using the camera on fully manual settings. The summer spent studying the subject has increased my confidence level, if not competence level! My brain is filled with the image of aperature, shutter, and ISO settings fighting each other to stay balanced on the seesaw.

So here are the photos. I'm only going to offer a couple of comments in between. I hope you enjoy the photos!

Not a bad way to start a day. He's surrounded by color!

This next photo was by special invitation. I must have looked like I knew what I was doing. A woman from the balloon crew asked me if I wanted a unique shot. She then invited me to snap a quick photo from the top cap of the balloon. This is the opposite of what you usually see.

The fire shot is harder than it looks. You have to catch it at exactly the right time. Once the flame starts, it's hot and blue in no time. Efficient, but not photogenic. This took a few tries.

This guy is not in a basket, if you notice. He's hanging from a harness with the burner strapped to his back. My kind of pilot! This photo convinced me I need to buy a lense bigger than 200 mm. I'm also quite thankful for the tripod!








This is from playing around with PhotoShop. The balloons look kind of cool to me all wrapped in plastic.

Have a nice day! Once the balloon is in the air, only other pilots will see the smiley face. I guess there's a payoff for coming to the launch.

One more special effect from Photo Shop.

Miles and smiles,

Dan

Loud pipes.

I'm pleased to introduce you more directly to Dean W. You've seen his comments on the blog. Dean's a good friend, and a former protege of mine. These days Dean's a Master in his own right and has been for a long time. We teach ART and police training classes together. Dean also happens to be a fellow FJR rider. Actually, he was riding one well before I bought Elvira.

Figuring you all might like a break from me, I invited Dean to do a guest post. The loud pipe issue is one we all face as riders. Dean decided to tackle a common proclamation. Without further ado, here's his thoughts.


You all know the saying: "Loud pipes save lives".

You've probably heard the justification: Car drivers don't see us, so having a loud exhaust will force them to hear us. Just blip your throttle and you can see their windows rattle...

It's always bothered me. Not just the noise- but the notion that it was helpful. ( I actually like the rumble of a well tuned motor. That doesn't mean it has to be ear-splitting loud.)

My first sticking point was that if a driver doesn't see you, there's no guarantee they're going to hear you, either. I'd be willing to bet that with windows rolled up, A/C on, and increasing efforts to isolate drivers from their environment, most any modern car audio system can be turned up loud enough to drown out those loud pipes. You're probably all thinking of a 20-something with a booming stereo that can be heard for blocks. I'll offer a retired couple enjoying their favorite symphony, or a 40-something reliving his youth with the AC/DC blaring. (Wasn't me, honest!)

Next, let's talk about sound propagation. Go look at any motorcycle, and the exhaust opens to the back. That means the sound waves are pushed out the back... not the most helpful if you're worried about a lane violation from the side or front. But sound does propagate in all directions. Unfortunately, low frequency sounds (rumble rumble) are hard to localize, even if the windows aren't rolled up. So maybe they know there's a bike around, but quite possibly, they don't know where it really is. Not helpful.

( editor's note: That's why emergency vehicle sirens are high pitched and pointed forward )

And loud pipes are... loud. If they're going to be loud enough to be heard by someone else, what are they preventing you from hearing? Horns, like the rest of us use? Sirens? Screeching tires as the car behind you loses control?

Finally, there's background noise. On an ongoing basis, your brain receives an incredible amount of data from your senses- sights, sounds, smells, touch, temperature, taste. It can't always process all of it, all the time. Ever notice how, over time, a constantly present sensation- a sound, smell, feeling, or even some commonly present visual object- fades away so that you don't notice it any more? Your brain has determined that it's not a threat and learns to ignore it. So, the constant bombardment of sound from a loud motorcycle exhaust will soon fade into the background, defeating the purpose.

(This is where I argue for a loud HORN, which is only loud when you need it to be. I've replaced the horns on my FJR with a louder pair. I chose the new horns so that when I push the button, the driver's first impression- before looking- is "1970's Buick Electra 225".)

More than once I've used those horns to temporarily convince another driver that they were about to collide with the proverbial irresistable force, and then escape during their confused and frantic search for one of the largest 4-door passenger vehicles ever built by GM. Afterward, I allowed myself the luxury of patting myself on the back for the foresight of installing these horns. . . then I beat myself up for getting into a position where I needed to use them.

The epiphany came when I was teaching a class. One of the topics we cover is "Mental Motorcycling". Amongst other things, this is where we discuss rules for lane placement, and present SIPDE (Scan, Identify, Predict, Decide, Execute) as a process for risk and hazard management.

Further along, while talking about specific hazards, we discuss blind
spots- how do you know if you're in someone's blind spot, and what you should do.

It came to me that this is the very situation that aficionados of exhaust noise claim justifies their aural assault- using noise to gain the attention of drivers that don't see them.

In contrast, the solution presented in the book is a two step process that can be done by anyone, on any size motorcycle or scooter with any size engine.

Situation: Are you in someone's blind spot?

Recognize: Can you see their eyes in their mirrors?

Hazard: If they can't see you, there might be a lane violation. (Fancy phrase for "collision")

Solution: (and here's the epiphany) GET OUT OF THEIR BLIND SPOT.

Remove yourself from the situation. Just that simple. You can speed up, slow down, or just move to one side a little- but get to a place where they can see you. I'll go a little further- get to a position where, if they do change lanes, they can't collide with you. That means moving ahead of or behind the car. Give yourself enough space cushion to evade if need be.

So, here's a challenge: next time you go for a ride (or drive), watch for how many times you catch yourself beside another vehicle. Then when you recognize the situation, take control of the it and do something to alleviate the hazard.

If you'd like to visit the website for PJ's Parts ( who sell the t-shirt ) click on the photo of the girl.

Irondad's comment: This is the part where you'd normally find the disclaimer: "The views expressed herein do not necessarily reflect those of the editor's." In this case I happen to agree with Dean's comments. I appreciate your taking time to contribute to the blog, Dean.

No matter what other arguments a person might have, there aren't any magic bullets. Nothing is as powerful a tool for a motorcyclist as are well developed physical and mental skills.

Miles and smiles,

Dan

Nobody told her.

Nobody told her you "couldn't" use a 150cc Vespa scooter for a track bike. Let alone a 1960 two stroke model. So here she was, sitting among a group of 16 riders. Front row and happy to be there. Nervous, but excited. Towards the back of the class were the Harley riders from ABATE. They made up about a third of the group. The rest of the riders were on bikes ranging from a Ninja to a CBR600 F4i to a scattering of sport touring bikes. Hers was the only really small ride.

You may be thinking that this is going to be one of those amazing stories. A story of how a person who shouldn't be able to do something came and conquered. That maybe this gal on her small scooter came in and blazed her way around the course, leaving the other riders in the dust. If so, you'd be on the wrong track. No pun intended. Okay, maybe a little.

On the other hand, it's not a story of how a rider came in and totally held everybody up. Of how they failed miserably. That wouldn't be accurate, either. The truth is somewhere in the middle. I'll expand more in a bit. For now, let's just say it's a story of how someone perhaps unkowingly bit off a little more than they could chew. It's about how someone naively jumped into the deep end yet came away with more than if they'd stayed on the side of the pool.


A quick word on photos. I know the last two photos look nearly the same. I'm exercising my blogger's privilege of including both. The top one shows Elvira more closely. She's sporting stickers sent to me by Krysta. First time I've ever put stickers on a bike. I just like the second photo. There's something about how the line of bikes points from the bottom right of the frame towards the corner in the distance.

I have no photos of Tracy, the rider of the Vespa. At the time I took the pictures of the Vespa simply because it was the first time I've ever had a small scooter in an ART ( Advanced Rider Training ) class. We've had a few MP-3's and a Silverwing before. Nothing this small, however. I really wasn't thinking about doing a blog post concerning the event. Six days have gone by since and I keep reflecting on the day. I finally came to the conclusion that underneath the surface was something worth sharing.

Tracy had a little experience riding to work and doing errands on the Vespa. Which made me like her already. Somewhere she'd seen some scooter racing and decided it looked like fun. Her enthusiasm was higher than her skill level, however. The ART class looked like a good way to raise the skill level. So here she was. Jumping right into the deep end, so to speak. I was teaching the classroom session. Tracy was fully engaged. She innocently asked a few questions that made some of the other students roll their eyes back in their heads. Which just made me warm to Tracy even more. There wasn't an ounce of pretension about her. Tracy was there to learn.

Interestingly, some of her questions weren't as strange as some of the other students might have thought. What they failed to take into account is that her questions were based on her experience riding the Vespa. There's definite differences between how a small scooter reacts and what one might expect on a bigger bike. Same basic concepts but each with their own nuances. Fortunately, I've become a lot more familiar with scooters and was able to answer her questions in such a way that it applied to her riding.

That's something I have a lot of you to thank for. So many of you in this blogger community of ours ride scooters. I've learned a lot from your posts and the discussions we've all had. The last few years of associating with you all has made me take scooters so much more seriously than in the past. During the same time period it seems like scooter sales have really increased. Which means we see a lot more scooter riders come through our classes. I beg rides from scooter riders both in class and otherwise. I want to be able to speak from the perspective our students are feeling. Through the sharing that you've done, you all have accomplished more to help your fellow scooterists than you're probably aware of! I offer my heartfelt thanks to you all.

Tracy has a personalized license plate. One of the things I appreciated about her is that she didn't come in as a "female" rider. Oh sure, she's well aware of her femininity as you can see by the plate. In the class Tracy just wanted to be treated like any other rider. No more, no less. It was funny that in one way she actually acted more like a man. Tracy wanted to take a couple of laps with me on the back of my bike. On the other hand, she really wasn't too wild about being a passenger. We made it work.

Maybe I should offer a quick explanation of my second sentence of the previous paragraph. On the other hand, maybe I'm doing a little jumping into the deep end of my own.

In order to avoid getting in over my head, I'm going to keep this narrowly focused. Men often come in thinking they know more than they do. It's not based on experience. It's based on the fact that, since they're guys, this riding thing should be in their chromosomes. Unfortunately, this common attitude can get in the way of their actually being able to apply themselves to really learning. Women often come in to classes showing the other side of the coin. They've been told that women don't do certain things. Or if they try it, the women will never be as good as the men. Back to the old chromosome thing. What really pisses me off is when a woman's male partner is the one telling her this. AAARRRRGGGHHHH!!!!

How about this? Everyone comes to class. At the door we strip off all the limiting labels. Starting with an open mind, let's see where we actually end up based on our abilities. I'm pretty sure we'll all be better off for it.

That's why I finally decided to write this post about Tracy. You see, Tracy didn't "know" that our ART class wasn't the place for an inexperienced rider on a small scooter. Nobody told her that she "can't" do this. Tracy came in with no preconceived limits. Her mind was open to whatever the day would show her. What Tracy took away from the class would be based on actual experience. She would try things she might not otherwise. Somewhere in business there's a saying going around. It's something like:

"Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you'll land high."

So where did Tracy land?

Her maximum braking greatly improved. At first she continually slid the rear tire. The scooter is a three speed with a clutch lever on the left front grip. There's a brake pedal on the floorboard of the scooter. It sticks up fairly high. Properly modulating the rear brake takes some work. Now Tracy knows how to do it right.

She can swerve with the best of them. As far as cornering goes, well, that can use a bit of work still. The Vespa is a three speed. Tracy rarely hit third gear. The scooter had a bit more available than Tracy did. Partly it's experience. Partly it's due to the small scooter. She hugged the inside line a lot. It's hard to just let the scooter aggressively drift out wide on the big sweepers. Tracy would pull off on the front straight to let faster riders by then go after it again.

I believe that Tracy left with a higher skill level than when she arrived. I also feel that she attained a higher skill level than if she'd attended a parking lot based class. Most of the real world happens outside parking lots. Tracy also still has some definite limits. At the end of class she told me that she knows she still has a lot to learn. More than she thought, actually. How does she know? Real life testing.

That's the point I wanted to share. We all need to know where we are in our riding skills. The question to ask is this. Does what we "know" reflect the reality or just what we tell ourselves?

Food for thought, isn't it?

Speaking of food for thought, for the next post I'm turning the keyboard over to Dean. He's going to address a topic that most riders have pretty strong feelings about. You all come back, now, ya hear?

Miles and smiles,

Dan

Grace under pressure!

This is a public thank you to the Security Department Staff at Linn Benton Community College. Their grace and willingness to help salvaged what could have been a tough weekend for us. I know that they don't read this blog. However, Balisada does and these are her colleagues. I'd like to ask you to pass this along for me, if you would be so kind. Feel free to point them to this post if you'd like. I've thanked them several times in person. It seems like more people ought to know what a fine and professional group this is.

Here is the class photo from our newest batch of apprentice instructors. This was taken late Sunday afternoon. The people are bone tired after a long weekend of intense concentration both on the range and in the classroom. Yet, you can see the enthusiasm for teaching in their faces. Also shining through is the satisfaction of conquest. They've passed the first big step. The next step will be teaching a real class with a Mentor instructor watching their backs.

On the lower right in the maroon shirt is my fellow trainer, Mary Kaye. We've worked together for years. MK, as we call her, has that unique gift of humor blended just right with professionalism. Backing it all up is a tremendous well of knowledge and ability. Between the two of us we've hopefully gotten this group off to a good start. May their individual journies be as fulfilling and fun as my own has been. Either way, they will always have a special spot in our hearts. One of these days we'll be saying "We knew you when you were just a baby!"

The man standing on the right is already an instructor. He and another instructor spent the weekend doing error runs on training bikes. The new instructors got a lot of practice coaching our two "challenged" students. The relationship between the new instructors and the experienced instructors doing error runs grew into a sort of love / hate thing!

This instructor prep went smoothly despite a big surprise on Saturday morning.

LBCC ( short for Linn Benton Community College ) is closed until just after Labor Day for heavy maintenance. We had been scheduled to use the college this last weekend since early in the year. So we showed up, ready to start classroom at 7:30 AM. Somewhere along 7:15 we saw a college IT guy wandering the hallways. He asked us if we knew that all the power to the campus was going to be shut down for half a day. Even worse, in our particular building, the electrical outlets would be hot, but the lights would be shut down until mid-week. I guess it has something to do with the fact that the lights are run by 277 volts and that is the part of the system to be worked on.

LBCC has put us in the Science and Technology Building. We used to be in the Health Occupations Building. Somebody decided to group classes more by type. I figure that motorcycle safety training belongs squarely in the Health category, don't you? Anyway, we got moved. We have a key to our classrooms and all works well. Except for the fact that the classroom we were using has outside windows way up high that are covered up. We would be in the dark for hours.

To top it off, we had a class of actual students due in for another session. This would be followed by yet another group of students that were currently out riding. There would be very little light and for sure no air conditioning. Tough situation. Electing to take point, I called Security and talked to a man named Jason.

I explained the situation to Jason and asked if we could be moved. For whatever reason, our office and LBCC had not communicated on the matter of the power. I don't blame the college. We're one program out of hundreds that use the campus. The important thing is that I needed a couple of different classrooms pretty quickly.

In the background I could hear Jason conferring with another individual. In hardly any time, Jason told us to hang tight and he would be over. Well, that's my summary, not his exact words. As good as his word, Jason came and led me to another building. Here's another great part.

Instead of just dumping us somewhere to get me off his back, Jason took me to what is almost the newest building on campus. I think there's only one other newer. Jason opened two adjacent rooms. Both rooms had large windows which let in abundant natural light. We'd still have no power but it would work. We'd miss out on showing some overhead transparencies. What a great excuse to practice our drawing skills on the whiteboard!

So we moved everything over for all three sets of students. I coordinated with the other instructors so everyone knew where to go. Thanks to the Security folks, and Jason in particular, we managed beautifully.

What complicated things more for Security was the fact that the rooms we now resided in contained computer equipment. The door locks could not be left in the unlocked position. If you shut the door you were locked out. Jason asked us not to prop the door open when we left. We also didn't have our own key for this building. We had to go back and forth a couple of times between classroom and range. I had to call Security again to gain access at noon. Jason came back and unlocked the door for us at lunchtime. We received prompt service with good cheer.

The class act wasn't confined to Jason. We started out in the parking lot on Sunday morning. Lunch for our instructor group was to be delivered to campus. The phone call came. Lunch had arrived. I called Security once again and asked to be let in. This time a man named Chris ( sorry if the spelling is wrong ) answered the phone. The service was so quick that Chris and I met up part way to the building.

It might not seem like much in the telling. All I can say is that the service provided by Security was huge in making our weekend a success. The schedule is packed. Time is critical. The quick service, the grace and professionalism, and the wonderfully helpful attitude pulled us out of the quicksand. These folks have my deepest appreciation and gratitude!

This was a special circumstance. It's important to note that we deal with the Security Department on a fairly regular basis. Even though we have a key to the classroom, we still need to have the main doors and restrooms opened. Once in a while we need a car towed off our range. By the way, we don't have the car impounded. We just have it moved to a nearby lot at our expense. Our relationship with the Security folks has been nothing but positive. Sometimes not so much with the people who get their cars moved. On the other hand, I'm also careful to treat the Security staff with respect and appreciation, as well. Hmmm, maybe there's a clue here about how folks should relate to each other!

Miles and smiles,

Dan

Tight squeeze!

I was up at Adventist Hospital in Portland recently. They've built a new building. Attached to it is a two story parking structure. The designers were kind enough to provide motorcycle only parking spaces. However, it seems more of an afterthought on how to use otherwise wasted space than a hospitable gesture.

There's probably a political statement to be made here but I'm not going to make it. I just thought it was an interesting situation to share.

Here's a photo of what I saw.

It looks like a pretty tight squeeze to me! The space also slopes uphill from where I was standing to take the photo. Good thing the Wing's probably got reverse, eh? It also doesn't look like more than two or three bikes would fit. Smaller bikes could pass each other to get out. If another bike were to park in front of the Wing I don't think it could do the same.

On the other hand, there's not much chance a car driver will back into the bikes! No parking charges are involved so maybe protection is why the rider parked here.

I prefer more wide open parking like this.

You know how us outlaws are. We need room to run!

Miles and smiles,

Dan

Now what?

This comment just came in. It was spurred from a post I wrote in July. My objective is to provide some support and encouragement. The comment was posted anonymously. If you log in you can request to be notified of follow-up comments. Without logging in, you can't. This is my attempt to ensure you see my reply. It's a great comment. I'm sure a lot of new riders find themselves in this same situation. So this post is directed to you in particular. I hope some others will find some value in it, as well. It's also a reminder to the more experienced riders of how much benefit our reaching out to new riders can be.


Here's the comment:

I just discovered your blog, and it's making me feel much better! I took the Team Oregon BRT class this past weekend and was terrified--had never been on a motorcycle before and heard all the "you'll die" stories for years.

Toward the end of the second day, my instructor told me that I "wasn't ready for this" without further explanation. Needless to say, I didn't pass the skills test--but more disappointing was that I left feeling as if there wasn't an option for me to become a safe rider.

You're spot-on when you talk about building trust with students--it makes an enormous difference if a student feels she can trust you and that you want her to succeed, especially when they tell you how much of motorcycling is mental!

First off, welcome to my humble blog! Thank you for taking the time to offer the comment. You're not alone in your feelings, by any means. You are poised on the brink of a wonderful two-wheeled journey. My instructor journey was started in the same place, if I'm correct about where you are. I taught twenty some classes my first year at Lane Community College.

I'm sorry you didn't get more of an explanation. I'm sure the instructor meant well. I have often been faced with telling a student that they aren't ready for the street, even if they passed the skill evaluation. I figure it's my responsibility to be tactful, but honest. The other side of the coin is that a student may not always recognize that fact for themselves. The instructor pats the student on the back, hands them their card, and sends them on their way. What is the student to think?

"Must be okay, I guess. The professional didn't say anything different."

Sometimes a new rider can get into trouble under these circumstances. So I am kindly honest. However, I always make an effort to outline the next steps. This part was missing in your course, it seems. Instructors are people, too, and not all relate to students the same way I would. Maybe some instructors don't care enough. Maybe I care too much.

I'm sure that you are well aware of where you stand as to capabilities and limits. That brings us to the next thing to think about.

The best way to approach a Basic Rider Training class, or any training, is to think of it as a chance to explore in a safe environment. Sure, the instructors and students all hope the eventual outcome is passing the evaluations and moving on. Pass or fail isn't the primary objective, however. It's the journey of discovery that's most important.

Think about it for a bit and you'll see it's true. There's a variety of riders that come to our classes. Some, like you, have never been on a motorcycle before. Some have already determined that they want to ride. Some come to see if motorcycling is for them. Being in our safe environment is a great move. The alternative is what I often see. A new motorcycle is purchased. Training is eschewed. A nasty crash happens. After the newbie recovers, they decide that riding isn't for them.

Pass or fail, the new rider comes away with a pretty accurate picture of where they are. In other words, they know which skills they've conquered and which ones still need some work. They also get a chance to see how they react when under pressure. That's provided by the skill evaluation. As you vividly remember, students feel a great deal of pressure when doing the evaluation exercises. Nothing like having someone with a clip board watching you, is there? On top of it all, everyone's a bit tired. As an instructor I'm well aware of what a student is feeling. Nonetheless, I have to sit back and watch. During the course I've done all I can to be of help and encouragement. At some point it's the student's turn to show me what they now own.

It might not seem fair that the evaluation is a pressure situation. All I can say is that there is pressure on the streets. Failing there can easily mean a lot worse things than getting points in an exercise. A student might feel that they will gain experience and things will be easier to deal with then. That statement is entirely true. However, a student is going to have to ride to get that experience. Which means they will be out in traffic, etc. I'm sorry, but a left-turning car, or a corner that we got into a little too hot, and so on, isn't going to cut anyone any slack just because they're not experienced, yet. Injuries aren't on a sliding scale tied to experience. That's pretty darn critical to keep in mind. Not to be bummed out, but to be aware and prepare accordingly. So, during the evaluation, you've got to show me that you have a basic mastery of some skills.

After all, when a student gets their completion card it means DMV will waive any further testing. So guess where a new rider could be the very next day? That's why instructors will tell a student that they aren't ready for the street. It's rare that I tell a student that they shouldn't be riding at all. Really rare. I'm sure your instructor was talking about street riding but wasn't clear.

I'm sorry this seems to have rambled on a bit. It just seemed important to set the context.

So now a new rider is standing there at the end of class. They haven't passed the skills test and they're pretty sure they've barely gotten it. I hear that a lot. Students will tell me that they just started to "get" it when we moved to the next exercise. This does not at all mean that the student has "failed" in any way whatsoever. Some people live closer to Disney World than others. Some arrive earlier, some later. There's no difference in the quality of the experience. All it means is that a few people looked at a map ( a measuring device ) and "discovered" that their journey would take a bit longer to pull off. It's not a reflection on anyone's worth, only that some started from a farther away destination. Does that make sense the way I'm describing it?

As a quick side note, depending on the score, a student who didn't pass the test can do it again later. Most students do better the second time. The only thing that happens during the retest is a warmup exercise and the evaluation. Students have more energy and concentration working for them because of it. I offer my sincerest encouragement to you in this regard.

Remembering that we are separating the pass / fail from the discovery, let's talk about the next steps. Here's my advice.

I kow economic times are tough. I know it's a big expense, but big picture wise, I'd encourage someone in your position to take the class again. There's no mystery to it now. You've been through it all. You'll benefit from the added practice and coaching. Both your skill level and confidence in those skills will grow. You'll be so much better off when you mix it up out on the streets. We also have the IRT which is one day and less expensive. It's the second half of the BRT. Same exercises but we don't do the basic learn to ride stuff that you did on Saturday. We conduct the same skills test but not the written test. You could do that at DMV when you go to get your endorsement.

Barring that, I'd encourage you to go out and ride. With a permit you could do it legally. That's just a matter of taking a written test at DMV. Have somebody you trust ride with you. Go somewhere where there's as little multi-tasking required as possible. Get comfortable that you can make the bike respond to you rather than the other way around. Press on the handlebars and feel how the bike leans. Practice stopping smoothly. Work on your head and eye placement. Once you've felt these things over and over, you'll start trusting them on your own. Whether you take another class or go test at DMV, the testing will go better with some more seat time.

This is often my recommendation whether a student has passed the test or not. My focus is on how well equipped a rider is to deal with the real world.

The biggest thing to remember is to keep looking ahead. In this case, I'm talking figuratively. You see, you might feel discouraged by last weekend. Here's some encouragement. Just because last weekend wasn't "your" weekend, it doesn't mean that a weekend in the future won't be yours. Weeks, months, and years, can be yours for that matter. That was a snapshot of a place in time. It's a photo of a place you visited. You went and found out what you wanted to know. It's not a photo of where you live.

You've got a lot of great stuff in your head, now. Oh, you might not be aware of just how much there really is lurking about in there. Once you go out and ride, in whatever venue, you'll start remembering. It's not the basic knowledge that's missing. It's the cementing of the mind and body into a cohesive unit that can smoothly operate a motorcycle that's waiting to happen. Once that happens, it will form the foundation that learning by experience can be laid upon.

I'd love to help in that process. It happens that I have a bit of experience with riding a motorcycle. We all need to feel useful and sharing makes me feel that way. If you care to share your journey, it would be an honor to hear from you now and then. I used to have a blog post every week called "Share the Road". Riders, both new and experienced, shared photos and stories. I've been wanting to revive that tradition. You're invited to help with the awakening by sharing. Or to simply ask questions. I truly care.

Send me an e-mail, if you'd care to, at intrepidcommuter@comcast.net

That invitation goes out to anyone reading. Some of you already correspond with me and my life is richer for it. I sincerely believe that we all have the duty and pleasure to reach out to each other. We're much better off together than alone. At least in most things!

Miles and smiles,

Dan

When different worlds meet.

Dean W and I taught an Advanced Rider Training class together last week. Joining us were Dave and Stan. Dean's on the left, Dave's in the middle, and Stan is on the right in the red shirt. As I mentioned before, Stan's the one responsible for me becoming an instructor. Thousands of riders are either blessing or cursing him!

During the class something happened that you'll probably never see in the real world. It involves a Harley, a Yamaha, and their respective riders. More in a bit.

After dropping Elvira in a parking lot, I installed a set of frame sliders. Dean actually pointed me towards them. They look pretty slick.

The sliders mount using some existing frame bolt holes. If you have a 2006-2008 model, the body work is open here. If it's an older model things are more difficult. Anyway, here's the link to Motorcycle Larry's if you want to take a look.

I know it's kind of like shutting the barn door after the horse has galloped away. Now that the sliders are installed, Murphy will decide it's not fun to tip my bike over anymore. At least that's the plan.

Some things on a bike can be customized by buying new parts. Other things you have to do yourself. Like peg feelers. They were just way too long on Elvira. So we've had to do our own modifications.

Our normal ART class involves a morning classroom session and a track session after lunch. Since we pay for the track for all day, why not use it? So, while I'm stuck in the classroom, Dean and company were conducting a cornering clinic. Instructors are invited to hone their cornering skills. Oregon's leading cause of motorcycle fatalities is riders getting corners wrong. Even instructors realize the need to constantly hone skills. The turnouts for the clinics are strong. The idea of free track time doesn't hurt, either!

When my group dismissed for lunch, the instructors were still riding. I took advantage of the opportunity to play some more with the Nikon. This is a totally manual photo. I was trying to capture some still life and action at the same time. Things coming at you are easier to stop while things going across your lense are harder. The combination shows both. I'm pleased with this photo, but your results may vary.

This is a photo of the bikes in our class just prior to starting the track session. Sometimes I just have to grab a shot without much time to mess with settings. Bright sunshine complicates things. I know the rule of F16 but I'm not quick at changing the camera settings, yet.

A couple of bikes back on the right is a blue full dress Harley. The rider is a man about my age. Where I'm shorter and a bit stockier, he's taller and thin. Say what you will about stereotypes, but it's true here. The man has a headband under his half shell helmet. He's got a leather jacket with a club patch on the back. There's other insignia scattered about. Talk about flying the colors! His hair's long, thinning, and scraggly. When he talks I can see he's even missing a few teeth. What looks like hard living is etched on his face. During the classroom session we spend a few minutes talking about how riding impaired from alcohol negatively affects a rider's ability to manage risk. I could see him at the back of the group staring up at the ceiling.

If you were to picture a "biker" in your mind, he'd be what you imagined.

This isn't meant to be at all insulting to the guy. He's attending training on his own initiative to improve his skills. I have nothing but respect for that. I'm merely showing the contrast between how he comes across and how I come across as it pertains to our approach to riding and gear. It's the contrast that makes the next part so humorous.

I could really care less if a student looks different than me. My job is to give the students what they need. In a smaller picture of how I feel the bigger world should work, we need to look past the surface and make a personal connection with people. That's what I try hard to do with my students. Everyone has different learning styles and I have to know how to best connect.

At ART, I draw pictures on a whiteboard during the classroom portion. We have discussions among the group. We go out and ride the track. Instructors stand at corners and coach. We ride among the students and have them follow us. Sometimes it's enough to enlighten a rider. Sometimes it's not. In that case, there's nothing like putting a student on the back of your bike and doing a couple of laps. The instructor gives a running commentary which explains what's going on. Students can see, feel, and hear the elements of good cornering technique. It's an extremely powerful tool that I encourage all students to avail themselves of.

So you can see where this is going, can't you?

It became clear that "biker" was afraid to trust leaning the bike. More specifically, he wasn't making the connection on how applying the throttle BEFORE he leaned the bike would help him feel more confident in the turn. So his turns were pretty choppy. He'd gingerly lean the bike with no throttle applied. The floorboards would scrape the pavement near the apex. "Biker" would react by suddenly grabbing a handful of throttle which would pick the bike up. However, he'd then be out of shape for the next corner. We needed to help this guy out.

Stan was standing near the paddock. I pulled Elvira to the side and waited. Stan stopped "Biker" and strongly suggested he go for a ride with me. "Biker" slowly dismounted while staring at me on Elvira. I could see several expressions cross his face.

One was distaste. Clearly, he wasn't thrilled to be riding pillion in the first place. I'm sure he didn't like the idea of being so close to another man. Perhaps I imagined it, but it also looked like he didn't really want to be on a Yamaha, or any other "rice burner". After all, he was flying just about every Harley related color possible. His progress to the bike was painfully slow. I patiently waited, my flip up helmet raised. I tried to keep an encouraging look on my face.

At the same time, "Biker" was clearly there to learn. He knew his technique was poor and that he wasn't getting it from our other coaching. As if pulled by a rope in his jaw, "Biker" finally stood beside Elvira. He eyed the rear seat somewhat apprehensively.

"That seat looks small", he said. "It looks like my ass is going to be hanging out in mid-air".

For the class I take the saddlebags and trunk off of the bike. Elvira looks a lot like a sportbike like that. The seat's bigger than it looks. Much better than the back of Stan's Interceptor, for example. There's no backrest, though, since the trunk is off. It would look much smaller than the rider's seat on a full dress Harley. "Biker" would have been a lot more apprehensive if he'd known ahead of time that I was going to take advantage of that vulnerable feeling to drive home a point.

Finally, "Biker" settled in behind me. I give the man every credit in the world for doing that. I know how hard it was for him. After a couple of quick instructions for being a passenger we were off. I had told him to expect some leaning and to just look over my inside shoulder. Down the straight we went. God, I wish I'd have given Stan the camera!

Picture it. A black Yamaha sporting bike with the rider in a white helmet and Hi-Viz 'Stich. Remember, that means it's a bright yellowish green. Underneath the road grime, of course. My passenger is in a black Harley leather jacket with a big patch and several smaller ones. He's wearing black chaps on the bottom and a half shell black helmet. Two worlds uniting for a ride.

I took it easy for the first couple of corners. Until we got to the hairpin. I took it at a good pace. All the while talking to him. I kept stressing how the early throttle held us BOTH up, even in the tightest corners. I explained that he needed to do the same thing on his Harley. Why not roll on the throttle and get maximum ground clearance BEFORE he leaned? Why wait until he heard the boards grinding on the road? Chances were that the floorboards wouldn't scrape in the first place. "Biker" was so tense he felt like a piece of lumber back there. I know he wanted to hang on tighter. Fear and phobia conflicted. I didn't want to scare him, but I also needed him to see how he could actually trust the bike to stand up with proper technique. It was a careful game of "scare and rescue".

By the time we finished a couple of laps "Biker" had relaxed. I knew the point was getting through to him. We also talked about being smooth with inputs and rolling the bike around the axis instead of throwing it down. There were no surprises since we were in total control.

Shaky, but impressed, he dismounted Elvira and re-mounted the Harley. I swear he was going to kiss the fairing of his bike, so relieved was he to be back!

Was it worth it?

After watching "Biker" on the next few laps, Stan commented how the student was a hundred percent improved. As it turned out, I followed "Biker" for his evaluation laps. He'd smoothed out considerably. Not perfect, by any means, but much better off than when he arrived.

How did he feel about me at the end of the class?

We give the students a chance to provide written feedback when the course is completed. The form asks if the student took a passenger ride and what part of the ride helped them the most?

"Biker" said the most helpful part was the instructor's knowledge and explanations during the ride.

Score!

I just wonder if he's going to tell his riding buddies about being on the back of Elvira?

Miles and smiles,

Dan