Ain't No Iron Butt Rider!

The snow is here. Won't be any more riding for many months to come and as my husband likes to say, we are now in the season of P.M.S. (parked motorcycle syndrome). PMS makes HUBBY cranky - how ironic is THAT?

The last ride of the season occurred on a blustery and cold Saturday and was my longest ride, so far. Bundled up with multiple layers and waterproof mitts over my gloves, I set out with hubby on a two hour ride to Leamington. Our destination was a downtown restaurant and our goal was to meet a group of riders all coming from different directions, specifically for the ride and to eat, a Ride-To-Eat or RTE. (I'm learning all kinds of jargon with this motorcycle thing.) This particular RTE has been scheduled for the first Saturday in November for many years and was "on" despite the weather.

Leamington is west of our home and our route took us south toward Lake Erie, then west and yes, right into the prevailing wind. This wasn't my first ride on a windy day but it WAS my first ride on a 90 kph highway straight into the wind coming off the lake. So here's me, on my dinky little bike with no windshield being repeatedly buffetted from the front and side, watching for traffic coming up behind me, hunched over, wondering what the HELL was I thinking!

By the time we reached Blenheim, about 90 minutes into the ride, I was stiff both from the cold and from trying to make myself less of a target for the wind and I needed a bathroom break in a bad way. I just had to stop and pulled off into a Petro-Canada station, parked the bike and waited for hubby to realize I was no longer behind him. It didn't take him long and as it turns out, he was just about to pull into a Tim Horton's a little further up the road. Good. Better choice, anyway.

Coffee for T and a hot chocolate smoothie for me (you gotta try those - they're absolutely delicious) and bagels with cream cheese all around. Warming up and sipping my drink, I had a decision to make. Had I had enough of the cold and wind or did I want to slog it out and make it to the lunch? Hubby wondered the same thing. I felt a lot better after the break and decided I felt good enough to give it a go. I could always turn around if I couldn't fight the wind anymore and at least it would be at my back on the way home.

It wasn't much further to Leamington and pulling into the restaurant parking lot, I was happy I hadn't abandoned the trip. I certainly had my doubts about continuing, though, when it began to hail in the Tim Horton's parking lot just as we got ready to leave!

We were the last of the group to arrive but were still in plenty of time for a hearty lunch and conversation and a chance to rest and warm up. I even managed to be awarded a prize of a two-piece rainsuit for being designated the newest rider. What a pleasant surprise!


We made it!

Why is it that any ride home seems to take longer than a ride TO somewhere? Our ride home was no exception and the last 20 minutes or so were pretty tough. The sun was going down steadily and the cold was creeping in and I was sorely thankful to see our last turn appearing around the corner. My feet were numb, my fingers stiff and my body felt cold and abused and I realized fully why my husband has every possible mode of electric heat hooked up on his own bikes! AND, oh man, was my hynie aching! There was no comfortable position to be had for the last 45 minutes of that ride. Scootching forward didn't help. Tilting backward didn't help. Sitting up straighter didn't help. Gritting my teeth, I had to wonder how on earth riders survive 1000 mile DAILY rides for 11 days straight competing in the Iron Butt Rally (ironbuttrally.com) but that's a whole other story!

Stuff Dreams Are Made Of, In the Dark

What ARE dreams, anyway? When we drift off and go to sleep do our minds go to work rehashing and reorganizing, placing the events and feelings of the day into their respective storage boxes, cleaning up the mental hard drive like defragmenting the computer? Or, does our life energy, fed up with this "life" thing, take a vacation and rejuice by inventing new adventures it enjoys more? Don't know, but I do know that owing to my recent close encounter with pavement, my dreams have been filled with more of the same in different locations, different circumstances, same result.  I wake up with butterflies in my stomach, telling myself to stop thinking about it.  

Like every mistake, I learned something from it.  There was sand and gravel spewed all over that corner and I made the turn too fast for that degree of traction, even though it didn't feel that fast. Simple. Know what to do in future. Do it right next time and get on with the business of riding.  

Getting on with riding was what I had in mind when I asked hubby to take a ride with me last week. The only problem was it became a late-day ride and by the time we were moving, it was dark. Well, OK, I need to learn to ride in the dark, too.  

Riding in the dark, I was reminded, is not like riding in the daylight (Einstein moment, here).  I can't see all that far ahead at night, even with the high beam lights on and given my ride always starts on pothole-ridden and uneven-surfaced dirt roads, not being able to see what's coming can be an issue. Once out on the pavement, I encountered another issue. I don't want to drive as fast in the dark, at least not on my motorcycle. Hubby, who was leading, had to stop to wait for me several times so I didn't get lost too far behind him. After the third stop and wait, I was told I needed to keep up and should be riding at least 10 kph over the limit. But I wasn't comfortable riding over the speed limit and not knowing if and when I was going to encounter the dreaded traction-reducing gravel, again. Hubby said I was going to get run over. That didn't sound so good; didn't feel so good, either.

I had started this ride with the intention of regaining some of the confidence I had lost when I went down and here I was, losing even more. I was seriously considering turning around and heading home and letting hubby continue on his own. I didn't; figured it was better to face the fear and keep moving. Hubby did offer to change the route, to shorten it quite a bit and stay off the busier roads as much as possible. That felt better. I was willing to stick it out, now.  

The advantage to dirt roads is the lack of traffic. The disadvantage is the lack of lighting. Pick your devil. I prefer the former and proceeding at what must have felt like a walking pace for hubby, we travelled the countryside in pitch darkness except for our own lights and the occasional highway light when we crossed the paved roads.

Not a long ride, this time, we stopped for supper at a small restaurant just north of London and enjoyed a relaxing meal. Getting something to eat was one of the motivations for the trip and it felt good to sit and regroup for a minute. Riding the back roads was a good idea and by the time we were ready to make our way back, I was feeling more in the groove. 

The ride home involved a few more paved roads and traffic and a side detour along a road that eventually ran beside the Thames river. At one point, hubby pulled off the road into what looked like the opening to a dirt trail that was disconcertingly similar-looking to the "mud-pit" road of our last ride and thinking he meant to take us down this road I looked at him incredulously and said, "In the DARK?!". Turns out it wasn't even a road. It was a short path right into the river!! Hubby just wanted to have a look at the water for a second. Phew!

I did manage to get way behind on the last leg of our ride when hubby was able to get out into traffic quicker than I felt comfortable. No big. It took some of the pressure off of keeping up and since I recognized where I was, the rest of the ride was pretty good and I caught up pretty quickly.

Taking the dirt roads close to home faster than I usually do, I thought the front end was wobbling more than I had experienced to date and wondered if the shop had missed something when they realigned the front wheel after the low-side fall last week. I was feeling a bit like I did on "mud-pit" road. No incidents, but I was glad to be passing our mailbox and parking the bike in front of the garage, once more.  

I'll be postponing any future night riding until I've had more daylight sojourns. I need to feel more natural on the bike and get used to how it moves and responds to the terrain; also need to feel more comfortable in traffic and at higher speeds, especially if I am to be riding with Mr. Speed (hubby)!  

Flying High and Riding Low

What a day!  A late October riding day jam-packed full of new experiences.  I knew, waking up that morning, that it would be a great day for a ride. It was also the weekend my husband had rented the wood splitter to finally take care of the TWO piles of wood that had been sitting for months, too big to add to the wood pile. It was a good day for splitting wood, too so it had to be done and I figured with the two of us at the job, there should be plenty of time left in the day for a good trip on the bikes. So, once the wood was split and stacked, I gave hubby a hint by pulling my bike out of the garage and getting it warmed up.  "Want to go for a ride, do you?", he asked with a smile. Rhetorical question. But where? I know the roads in our area but I know them from a driving perspective versus a riding one. My husband, on the other hand, has a far greater mental picture of the roads and routes that make riding interesting (and less congested - something which appeals to me while I'm building my confidence).  "I think I can get us to Port Stanley on mostly dirt roads.", was his suggestion and "Suits me just fine.", was my response.  

Port Stanley is about an hour's drive away, on the shores of Lake Erie.  It's a quaint little town filled with the boutiques and small shops you would expect to find in such a spot and there's a beach side restaurant right on the sand that became our destination du jour.  

It was a bit of a blustery day but not so windy that riding was difficult and as we made our way down our road, I wondered what the day's ride would bring. I found out pretty quickly. Remember Black Jack Drive from an earlier post? Remember how I said it was a pretty easy ride? Well, Black Jack Drive is a different road after it rains and we had a LOT of rain the day before. Rain makes Black Jack slick, muddy and slippery and I got my first lesson in dirt riding without so much as a "head's up" from hubby. Probably a good thing I didn't have time to think about it; likely would have cancelled that little adventure.  

Dutifully following hubby's path down the road, I suddenly found my front end disconnecting from my back end and correcting for that with my heart in my throat and my stomach in knots, found the front end instantly hopping in the opposite direction and sending me off the road entirely and into the grass, over several tractor tire ruts and (phew!) back into some semblance of a straight line.  I just had time to regain a bit of composure before I was sea sawing the bike a second time through more mud, ruts and slime to reach the end of the road and pavement.  Thank God I've ridden horses, was all I could think as I promptly yelled a "Did you see THAT?!" at hubby, happy I managed to stay on and upright.  Thought for sure I was going to be writing a story about eating mud after that!  

Figuring the rest of the ride would be easy compared to the slippery mud of Black Jack Drive, I concentrated on riding with what little traffic we encountered and enjoyed what was left of the fall leaves.  The livestock feed corn is still in the fields and will be for several weeks, yet, until the moisture is low enough to harvest and at one point we found ourselves on a narrow dirt road with corn rising on both sides of us, almost 8 feet high, walling us in. I've never walked a corn maze but I wondered if it felt similar.  It was neat.  

We had been riding for nearly half an hour with several stops and turns steadily moving further south and slightly to the east, following mostly dirt roads, as was the plan.  We had encountered almost no one and I was feeling pretty strong and gaining confidence and thinking I was doing well UNTIL I saw where our path was leading. Part of our route, (yes, the one chosen by my supposed-to-be-looking-after-me husband) included (unbeknownst to me) a little-used section of road that I now saw (and too late to say anything about it) was Black Jack Drive times 100. What a mess! The mud I had managed to maneuvre the bike through earlier paled in comparison to what I was riding through now. The road was FULL of deep ruts. The mud was soft and wet and offered little traction and watching my husband slide HIS bike all over the road did not inspire confidence as I did my best to control my bike behaving the same way. I didn't think it was possible but I was very glad to have had a taste of this before being immersed in split-second steering corrections and trying to maintain my balance on a machine that was moving like a drunken sailor. It took little more than 5 minutes to get through the muck but it felt like 50 to me and I totally amazed myself by getting through it without going down. What a blast! It was so much fun! I couldn't wait to do it again on the ride back home and I could see why people deliberately ride trails filled with this kind of stuff. Woohoo!!

The wind had really picked up and it was overcast as we pulled into the restaurant parking lot in Port Stanley and driving 'round to the back of the building, we were treated to a sight I had never seen. I thought I was watching two people flying kites at first. Then I saw the short surfboards. These two were using huge kites attached to a body harness to catch the wind and surf the waves! It was amazing to watch. Kite-surfing? I don't even know what it's called but it looked like a lot of fun (if you have the upper body strength to prevent yourself from flying right across the lake!).

     
Pointing to the mud on my pants!                         



"Kite-surfer" getting air.

After lunch and a break from the wind inside the restaurant, we were off on the return trip through the downtown to the nearest station to gas up (first time for this, too - had been using the gas cans for the lawnmowers until now).  It was good to get more experience in close traffic while it wasn't too busy. Taking a slightly different way back out of Port Stanley, through a quiet and tree-lined, curvy subdivision, we arrived back at "mud-pit" road (for lack of a better name) and my second "attack". It was even more fun the second time!  And I managed to stay vertical this time, too. That felt great!  

Following a more serene section of road, hubby wanted to stop to snap a few shots and asked me to drive back up the road, turn around and ride back. OK, no  problem. There was a wider section of road back a bit with a little puddle on one side that would make a good turn-around area. Only, it wasn't such a little puddle, at least not in depth. Once in the puddle, I realized it was about 2 feet deep with a foot of gooey mud in the bottom and about 8 feet across. I was in good; water flying up inside my pants, down into my boots, onto the back of my jacket from the back tire. I had visions of sinking deeper and deeper and having to pull the bike out manually. Concentrating on not getting stuck I didn't realize I had pulled in the clutch and was racing the engine. Letting the clutch out a bit too fast and with more gas than I needed, I lurched out of the mud and the puddle, bounced over more tire tracks (what's with all these tire ruts right where I need to ride??) and back onto the road.  THIS is what dirt riding means!  Too bad hubby was out of sight and missed the photo-op.  

There was lots of learning on this ride and one of the biggest lessons came on one of the last turns toward home. We were making a left turn off a paved road onto another paved road when I suddenly found myself sliding on my left side ON the pavement with the bike on ITS left side; both of us heading for the shoulder and the ditch if the speed had been high enough. Thankfully, it was not. And thankfully, I knew I could pick the bike up because hubby made me do it in the safety of our yard the first day we brought it home. It's a bit of a heave but I can do it on my own. So, wondering how the hell that happened, I got myself and the bike back up and with the bike turned off and resting on the sidestand, I mentally surveyed the damage (both to myself and the bike). 

Even though I had to have been going fast enough to go down, I couldn't have been going too fast since I was in one piece and the only part that was the least bit sore was my right wrist, presumably hit by the right handgrip. Yay for 1000 denier cordura and body armour! The bike SEEMED to be OK other than a few scuff marks until hubby arrived and noticed the front wheel was sitting at an odd angle. Do I ride the bike home or get the truck and drive it home? Luckily, we were able to reset the wheel by stabilizing the tire between my knees and feet and forcefully pushing the handlebars opposite to the twist.  It appeared that the forks had twisted within their supports rather than bending which would have been tres bad.  

Pulling into the driveway and returning the bike to its spot in the garage, my mind was flooding with all that had happened and even though I had my first experience with "going down", I was filled with good feelings and thankful for the awesome day.  

  

Hubby's First Ride (Not Really)

I say "not really" because it was hubby's first ride with ME but not his first RIDE, by far. I had walked in the back door not long before, after an afternoon of errands and visiting my father and we (hubby and I) were discussing how warm the afternoon had been.  "Nice day for a ride." says hubby, "Wanna go?"  "Together?", I ask - Woohoo!  Always more fun in numbers and I could use some watch-me-from-behind riding input. Hubby wanted me to take him along the same route I followed yesterday since he thought he remembered the twisty little road with the brook but wasn't sure and he wanted to see it, again.  So, geared up and ready (after a quick photo shoot), off we went.  

Today's ride was quicker than yesterday.  I have the luxury of poking along when I ride solo.  I led the way out of our dirt "subdivision" (ha!) and onto the roads leading to Springer, followed that through it's peaceful loop at the bottom and back out, on the return road home.  Hubby being used to much faster speeds and arriving back on our close-to-home dirt roads, he obviously had enough of moseying along behind me and decided to take the lead. Going too slow for you, dear?  :-)  That's OK.  It was a change of pace to have someone in front as it gave me a chance to learn about staggered riding formation and keeping a safe following distance.  

Our ride continued along Cooks Road, which follows the river and several pastures, and I was a bit surprised to see quite a large herd of black Angus beef cattle in a field right along the river. I've driven this road quite often and don't remember seeing cattle grazing, there.  Curious at first, they watched us approach before deciding the noisy, funny-looking, people-things weren't something they wanted to stick around to see and turning away from the roadside fence, off they trotted. Cows are funny-looking when they trot.  Udders do not make for good hind-leg coordination.

Up Riley Road, back to our home road, right on Cobban to the stop sign at the paved road that curves around and meets Black Jack Drive which connects, again, to our home road. A note on Black Jack Drive:  it is reportedly named for a a man named Jack Clark, one of three Jack Clarks who lived in the area at the turn of the last century. This particular Jack Clark had a very dark beard and thus, the name of the road (I'm not making this up). No one lives on Black Jack, now and the county does not care for the road in summer with grading or in winter with snow removal. The road is used, however by farmers plowing and harvesting the corn and hay fields still in use on the road.  It makes for a very peaceful and solitary walking road as well as a good road for practicing motorcycle riding balance since it's pretty rough.  

Hubby and I had talked about riding Black Jack but I didn't feel up to tackling it by myself.  If it was as rough as it seemed (with quite a steep gully right in the middle) and I was to "have an incident", I wanted help to be close by. As it turned out, the road was way less rough than I had anticipated and aside from a few more potholes and ruts than our usual roads, was an easy trail from start to finish. Less than five minutes later, we were stowing the bikes in their respective places in the garage. All in all, a fun first ride together as a pair of riders instead of two-up on one bike. I must say, I'm having fun!  

Practice, Pratice, Practice

I live in absolutely the best place to learn to ride a motorcycle and I am learning in the most pretty season of the year. Fall is gorgeous in Canada. The changing colour of the leaves are spectacular and the range of reds, oranges and yellows defies description. It even smells colourful.

I was out on the bike, today and I really appreciated, for the first time, what riders mean when they say, "It's different on a bike." I always thought this was hooey. How can riding a motorcycle be any different than being in a car with the window rolled down? At least as far as sampling the scenery and smell of the air, goes, anyway. Well, it IS different on a bike. A neighbour put it very well when she said, "You're more attached to the ground, for one thing." and somehow, riding a motorcycle provides a feeling of being WITHIN nature. It doesn't make a lot of sense and it makes NO sense to someone who hasn't ridden their own bike. Go ahead, try to convince them.  

I set out, today, with a plan to do a better job in two areas: tighter right and left hand turns from a stop and remembering to turn off my signal light. The last day's ride, my first ride longer than the 100 yard dash I did on the first day I had the bike, reminded me I need to work on these areas. I was also hoping my route included at least one stop sign on a slight hill so I could do a better job taking off on an incline. This was something I was taught in "bike school" and I found it a bit tricky, coordinating the clutch, the rear brake and the correct amount of throttle.  

It's getting cool, now, but this time of year in southwestern Ontario can still have many warm days since it doesn't necessarily cool off and stay that way, all at once. Today proved to be a beautiful day. The sun was out. The clouds were sparse, high and light and fluffy. The birds were practicing their songs in chorus and the breeze promised to give my ride an extra element of training in feeling its pressure at higher speeds.  

I had planned to start out practising 90 degree turns in and out of the end of the driveway.  Since our home is the second last on a dead end road and each of our nearest neighbours is more than a kilometer away, traffic is reeeeeaaaally easy to see and hear coming and I felt pretty safe. The reason I wanted to do this practicing is that two days ago, I made a wider-than-desired right hand turn from a stop on a dirt road onto a paved road with an 80km (50 mph) POSTED limit (closer to 100 kph cruising speed) and found myself a little too close to the center line and a car travelling  in the opposite lane.  I wasn't in danger but I was reminded, once again, how important it is to LOOK UP and to where I want to go, especially in turns. It is so easy to look AT the turn versus THROUGH it. Practice. Practice. Practice.  

I decided, once I had left the driveway behind that I'd take a route that included more dirt to pavement turns and practice, that way, instead.  I was also avoiding the "raceway" section of road where I had made my wide turn earlier in the week.  

Proceeding down our road, I turned right onto the first connecting dirt road and was enjoying the crispness of the air and the riot of colour when I remembered a very important thing. I am right-handed.  If I want to wave at someone, I have to use my LEFT hand.  I used my right hand to wave at the farmer harvesting pears in the orchard I was driving past and was surprised by my sudden loss of speed.  DUH!  Sounds intuitive, I know, but you try learning how to ride a motorcycle and see what dumb things you can discover.  It'll surprise, you, I'm sure.  

Collecting myself and chuckling, too, I recovered my throttle control and passed over the bridge which spans the Thames river and picked up speed as the road turns to pavement but is still very much a "country" road. I put a smile on my face by perfectly executing the left turn from the stop at the end, onto the secondary road which would lead to the next left I needed to make.  

Springer Road was my destination as it led to the provincial road that indirectly leads to the road I live on and is a 90 kph provincial, two-lane, highway; a fairly well-travelled route to several communities in the area.  By taking Springer, I could loop around, travel through the village of Delaware, get back up to speed and return home.  

Turning right onto Springer, my way was blocked by construction necessitating a complete route change on the spot since there was no other nearby connection to Highway 2.  With a short detour down a dead-end road to turn around, I proceeded in the other direction, toward the conservation area.  I had been down this end of Springer Road before in the car and it's a lovely ride.  This road changes from pavement to dirt, follows a twisty downhill curve to the left, then right and then meanders through what looks almost like a walking trail except that it's wide enough for a car, over a small bridge spanning a calmly bubbling brook, past a small number of secluded homes and hay fields, back up a twisty hill and after a short jaunt, loops back onto itself.  I almost stopped the bike at the brook, just to enjoy the air, it was that serene.  

Back on Springer, another well-executed left hand turn (even leaned into it a bit, getting brave, ha!) and a stop sign on a hill.  Good.  Wanted to practice this.  Rear brake in, clutch in, "ready" position for making the right-hand turn.  This particular stop had gravel strewn across the road, too so I had this added factor in making sure I got onto the road smoothly.  Open the throttle, gently let out the clutch, feel the bike wanting to move forward, ease off the rear brake and EYE LEAD - looking through the turn, done.  Good job.  More and more confident with each successful maneuvre.  

It wasn't long before I was back on the dirt roads near home; explored the two with the best views and made the turn back to the house.  Pulling into the driveway, I was calm and happy, feeling there really is something to this motorcycle-riding thing and glad I made the jump from passenger to pilot.  Life is good.  

First Bike, First Ride

When I told my husband I was going to get my motorcycle license, I don't think he believed me. After all, I had been a willing passenger on the back of his bikes for such a long time and was so adamant about not ever riding my own bike that it would have been hard for anyone to believe me. Once the deed was done, however, I knew my husband would be the one to help me choose what bike I would actually own and ride.  

The decision turned out to be quite an easy one to make, really, helped by the two essential requirements I decided I had to have: good traction on dirt and low enough for me to plant both feet flat on the ground.  I knew I would not feel confident without either, given that we live on a dirt road and that I would be learning to ride on several connecting dirt roads.  

The dirt part was easily solved.  The category of bike, then, had to be a dual-sport.  The low enough part was also an easy poser.  Since I knew I didn't want a cruiser, we just had to find a dual-sport with a low seat height.  That also meant it wouldn't be too powerful, either, since the larger displacement dual-sport bikes are also taller and that suited me, just fine.  I didn't intend to be rocketing my bike to the moon and I won't be up for wheelies and tricks for a loooooong time.  

The decision was made.  The bike would be a Yamaha XT225. Picking the bike proved to be the easy part. FINDING the bike took a bit longer.  We actually started looking pretty much as soon as I completed rider training, Labour Day Weekend but it took almost 6 weeks before we found an XT in good condition at a good price.   

Kijiji was our main I-wonder-if-anyone-has-one-for-sale-this-week place to look and I had been searching our city and nearby cities for dual-sport motorcycles without much success.  A few ads appeared but the bike was invariably priced close to the cost of a brand-new bike.   After looking for weeks, we decided that's what we would do - buy a new bike.  I wasn't sold on this idea, not wanting to be a raw beginner on a pristine bike, but fall was progressing and I didn't want to miss a chance to practice what I had learned before winter set in.  

It was with some trepidation that I followed my husband into his favorite cycle shop to look at what they had.  And there was lots to be had: cruisers, sport bikes, sport-tourers, dirt bikes, dual-sport, ATV's, you name it.  They were all there. But no XT, at least none in stock.  I did sit on a Suzuki DR200 which held promise but was told the 200cc engine wouldn't likely be powerful enough for the type of riding I eventually wanted to do.  Well, OK, then.  What next? The owner of the shop was a friend of my husband's and he agreed he would get to work on locating an XT. So, at least now, we had help from someone with contacts and I was feeling less like I might need a snowmobile instead of a motorcycle.   

Back, home, a few days later, sitting at the computer doing something totally unrelated to finding a motorcycle, I dialed up Kijiji, once again.  This time I searched on all motorcycles instead of limiting my search to dual sports and I tried a city a little further than I had been looking. Eureka!  There was a 1998 Yamaha XT with less than 4000 km (~3000 miles) not more than an hour away and the price was perfect.  

I sent an email off presto and with a few back and forth discussions, was able to arrange to look at the bike Thanksgiving Day, October 13th.  I was twitchy all weekend but trying to be patient and contain my enthusiasm and anticipation.  When the day came, the ramps were loaded into the pickup, ratchet tie-down straps safely stowed and we were off - WAY too early in the morning for my taste but I wasn't about to complain.  

The bike was perfect and it turned out to have been the owner's first bike, too.  She loved this bike and it was a tough decision for her to make to sell it but with young children and no time to ride, the bike had actually grown cobwebs sitting out the last several riding seasons in the garage. It was an easy sell for us.  Up the ramps it went, into the back of the pickup.  

I did it!  I got my license, I learned to ride, I found a bike and now I wondered if I would remember what I had been taught.  Mentally, on the ride home, I went over the most critical things:  clutch control, eye lead and FINEC (see my second blog, Gearing Up and Learning To Ride! Part One). I was anxious to see how I would do.  

Home, in the driveway, bike on its stand, my husband encouraged me to take the bike for a spin. He's good at that - encouraging me to do things I'm hesitating to do.  The evidence of my first ride and how it went is now a video on You Tube.  Here's the link:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8eKhJyYMwD4

Enjoy!  

Gearing Up and Learning to Ride! Part Two

Sunday morning, 7:45 am, out on the course, again; another sunny and soon to be scorching-hot day AND, I am not a morning person.  Suffering the muscle aches and pains of riding a motorcycle for the first time for a whole day in too much sun, I was none too sunny-feeling, waiting to start up the bike for the second day's training. Luckily, there wasn't much time to think about my body once the class started.  

First question, did we want to change bikes, today? Hmm, give me a minute to consider that one. Um, no.  No, no and no.  I wasn't up to introducing an additional element of uncertainty into a day that was supposed to include already knowing how to ride a bike and learning new skills that included stopping VERY quickly and passing A TEST, to boot. Call me chicken at worst,
conservative at best, but I walked to the same bike I had used the day before; a bike I had chosen, by the way, because it already had a dent in the gas tank and so any extras I was going to make wouldn't show as much.  :)  

Day two training  started with an oral overview of the important points from the day before and I was reminded that "eye lead" is VERY important.  More than once, I had heard, "LOOK UP! LOOK UP!".  Looking through the curve, and ahead in the straights to where you want to be is critical and something I needed to remember.  Clutch control and friction point as well as what to do if we felt we were out of control - "push and pull"  i.e.; pull in the clutch and front brake, push on the rear brake and gear down were all made fresh again, in my mind.  

We spent the morning learning the skills we would be tested on in the afternoon: emergency braking, swerving, counter-steering, accelerating out of a turn and gearing up, staying within a "lane" and stopping at a specified point.   We learned that during emergency braking, if the front wheel locks up, to release the front brake lever; that if the rear wheel locks up, to ride it out; NOT to brake on a curve since that straightens the front wheel and takes us out of the curve and straight off the road (nice, hmmm?)(good point to remember).  We also spent time slowing to turn tight circles and figures of eight while maintaining control.  

It took some mental maneuvering for me to grasp the concept of counter-steering and it was my husband who made it clearer by demonstrating how spinning wheels actually lean from side to side when they are moving in a curve or turn and that the lean is OPPOSITE to the direction of the turn.  So, at higher speeds, pushing the handlebar of the direction you want to turn is what is needed, not the opposite which is what I saw in my mind.  

We ended the morning by actually running through the test several times and this is where the heat, the effort and lack of restful sleep starting to catch up to me. Initially, I was doing great - managed to run through the five sections without a hitch.  It was only as lunch approached and the spectre of the ACTUAL test loomed closer that I started having problems.  Oh, well, after something to eat and a break, things were bound to improve, right?  Well, not exactly.  

Lunch and a break did help and once we started up again, we went for a short drive around the college campus and practiced stopping and taking off on a hill.  This was something I'm glad to have been taught since I saw how often the situation arises, especially on the dirt roads around my home. Once everyone had run through it several times, we met inside while we waited for the first group to be tested and to discuss some of the considerations for carrying passengers (no, don't ask me for a ride).  

How am I doing, mentally, at this point?  Better.  I'm feeling reasonably confident that I've been taught what I need to know and that I wouldn't be proceeding to the test if I hadn't.   Still, the inner critic nicely reminds me that I was screwing up the practice test just before lunch.  I told it to shut up and go to its room.  After all, the instructors were saying all weekend there is a 99% pass rate; pretty good odds!  

Back on the motorcycles and back to the test lot for a few more times through the five sections of the test.  NOW, I'm really screwing up - crossing lines, not accelerating fast enough, rear tire "skipping out" due to lack of control, poor braking....NOT good.   I had essentially managed to convince my body that I had forgotten everything I just worked so hard to learn.  

How am I doing, mentally, now?  Awful and after the second time through the first curve without doing any better, I'm feeling frustrated.  Now, when I reach a feeling of frustration it isn't pretty; not pretty at all.  Pulled aside by my instructor, now in tears, I'm feeling pretty lousy and my confidence is shattered.  All the stress and heat and physical and mental exertion of the last 2 days has reached it's max and ain't gonna be held back no more!  Poor Steve, my instructor.  I have to give him credit for not sending me to the corner for a time out, or worse - home!  Faced with a blubbering female, he did very well, indeed.  "It's not the end of the world." he said.  "One woman isn't even DOING the test.  She's decided to sit it out."  Didn't matter one bit, to me.  "But I don't want to be the ONE who fails."  I blubbered. (Remember the 99% pass rate?  Well, in the world as my mind sees it, that meant one person fails and that, of course, would be ME.)   "Look," Steve said, "just ride this part of the test in first gear.  It's timed but you'll be fast enough in first gear." Relief flooded through me.   OK.  I can do that.  Good.  No need to change gears as well as nail the right hand turn AND stay inside the really-close-together lines AND stop in the box.  Little bit of confidence returning.  "Give it a try.", Steve says.  So I do and I did it!   OK, now go, sit and wait my turn to ride the test.  

I was fourth and each of the riders before me did very well. My turn.  Remember to breeeeeathe. Of course, the FIRST part of the test was the part I was having the hard time with, earlier, Murphy' s Law.  Good and bad.  If I did well, I was more confident with the remainder of the test. If I blew it, I could kiss my confidence good-bye and no matter how well I MIGHT have done on the rest of the test, a disaster was likely.  Remedial class, comin' right up.  

Lined up in the box to start part one, I can start whenever I'm ready as the timer doesn't start until I do.  Remember "eye lead" I tell myself.  Two deep, yoga breaths and, starting, I look through the turn, accelerate, manage to stay within the lines despite a back end "wobble" and stop in the box at the other end. No whistle from the examiner and I get the signal from Steve to proceed to part two.  YES!  I'm OK. Yay!  Staying in first gear did it!  

Parts two to five were smooth with the only problem being a stall as I took off from part two to part three.  Dumb but given my fears at the start of the test, I allowed myself this mistake without letting the inner critic out of her room.  

Exhausted and relieved, I rode the bike over to the shelter where the rest of the group was waiting, took off my helmet and with tears of relief, this time, sat down to cheer on the riders who followed.  

Everyone passed, several with perfect zero scores and we were the first group all season to accomplish that.  How'd I do?  One demerit point for stalling the bike.   Not bad for someone who didn't know how to start a bike 36 hours ago and managed to have a melt-down right before the test.  I done good!  

Many thanks to Steve and Dan, my instructors that weekend.  You were both great teachers and I appreciate your support.   I highly recommend this course for anyone learning to ride, even if you already know how to start a bike!  :)