Once, while watching a VRRA race, I saw a guy pat his bike just after he crossed the finish line. It was a real nail-biter and he managed to squeak out the win in the last few meters of the race. I noticed the gesture—a double pat on the side of the fuel tank—because I sometimes do this to my bike, but privately, usually as we either head out on or return from a long adventure. It’s a gesture of kinship, or thanks. I guess I feel silly doing it, but at least now I know I’m not alone.
The pat is silly because, of course, machines don’t have feelings. Perhaps the gesture is only an acknowledgment of our own. If you work on your bike, and especially if it takes you on some adventures, you develop a bond, dare I say an intimacy, with the bike. You trust it with your life and return the favour of that loyalty by keeping it well maintained. And sometimes, I will publicly admit, I even talk to my bike, promising from inside my helmet some much needed maintenance as we cover the last few kilometres of a long tour. No wonder my wife sometimes feels second-best.
I mention all this because, yesterday, while browsing Facebook marketplace listings, I came across my old, first bike, the original Beemer after which this blog is named, the one that took me across Canada and up to the Arctic Circle and Marilyn and me over The Rockies. I put 100,000 kilometres on that bike and did all the maintenance myself, and now here it was, sitting in a stranger’s driveway.
The original 650 Thumper. photo credit://Alain Thibault
I always wondered what had happened to it. Last I heard, the woman I sold it to didn’t keep it for long but sold it, I was told, to trade up to a bigger GS. Her loss, I thought, since she was a learner and it’s a perfect learner bike and more. Now that new owner is selling it, and for a moment I actually considered buying it back. But I’ve got other plans.
Next spring I’ll be buying a new bike, or new to me. I’m looking at the Honda CRF 300 Rally.
The 2021-24 model.
I’ve always wanted a little trail bike. As good as the 650 was as a starter bike, there really is some truth to the adage that you should start small. It’s a lot easier to develop off-road skills on a little dirt bike than on a big adventure bike, a point on which Clinton Smout has founded his SMART riding school and which Adam Reimann argues in a recent video.
The polemical Adam Reimann.
I will also throw some rackless saddlebags on it and use it as a light adventure tourer. I’ve already bought the Enduristan Monsoon 3’s in a Black Friday sale at Dual Sport Plus; now I just need the bike.
I know what’s coming, so let’s just get this out of the way early. Why doesn’t everyone who is reading this leave the comment, “That’s the same bike Itchy Boots used,” and I will henceforth become inert to the remark. But seriously, I’d rather you weigh in on another decision I’m making.
I’ve also decided to sell the Tiger and get an even better long distance touring bike, and yes, it will be a big GS because that’s the law. If you’re over 60 and into adventure street touring, you must get a big boxer. I’ve never owned a big GS but I rode one in a demo ride at La Classique a few years ago and was immediately hooked. If you don’t understand, you clearly haven’t ridden one.
But joking aside, hear me out. I’ve been trying to do it all—trail riding and touring—with a middle-weight bike, but that inevitably involves compromise both in the dirt and on the street. With retirement approaching fast, I think I’m ready for two bikes. The Tiger is a really fun bike, but it’s still a big bike for technical riding and a little small for long-distance touring. The GS carries its weight so low you can turn it on a dime, and where the 800 triple is straining a bit 2-up at 120 km/hr (70 mph), the 1200 GS is cruising in its element. There’s good reason that the GS is the best-selling adventure bike of all time.
I’ve considered getting a dedicated touring bike like a Gold Wing but wouldn’t want to go up The Dempster on one of those. I’ve also considered a sport touring bike like the discontinued Yamaha FJR but want the option of top-loading panniers for my camping gear. No, I knew a 1200GS was somewhere in my future; I just didn’t realize it would be this soon.
The BMW R1200 GS Adventure.
Why a 1200 and not a 1250 or even 1300? Mostly due to budget, but there are benefits to going with an older bike too. I like to work on my own bikes, so the simpler the better, without a lot of electronics, and there are literally thousands of old 1200 GS’s out there, so lots of choice. Ah, there’s the rub: I have choice paralysis.
What is the best era of the 1200? The simple, reliable, and relatively lightweight 04-12 1st Gen oil/air-cooled models; 2nd Gen 13-16 water-cooled models with more power and a wet clutch, electronic suspension, quickshifter, and rider modes with cruise control; or 3rd Gen 17-18 models with TFT display, dynamic (i.e. self-levelling) electronic suspension, cornering ABS, and finally a smooth transmission? There are incremental updates in each generation too so the decision gets complicated fast. Please let me know if you have a preferred year and why. I’ve got all winter and probably most of next season to decide, but I’m researching and narrowing down my decision now. I think I’ll probably go GS Adventure for the extra range and better wind protection if I can get my old Touratech panniers to go on it. (Do all GSA’s have the bent luggage rack on the muffler side?)
As for the Tiger, it’s been a really fun, sporty, adventure bike, and I will be sad to see it go, as I was when I sold the Beemer. We’ve had some good adventures together, and I’ll give it a few pats and parting words before the new owner rides it away. The only consolation for such loss is the promise of new adventures on new bikes. As Galway Kinnell writes of separation, “the need / for the new love is faithfulness to the old” (“Wait” 14-15).
Improve your street and off-road skills with these simple drills. No dirt needed.
The first instruction in off-road skills I received came from none other than Jimmy Lewis, the Dakar podium finisher in the 90’s who now runs an off-road school in his home state of Nevada. He was visiting the Dirt Daze Rally in NY and offering little 3 hour clinics to ADV riders. He began by stating that the coaching at his school focuses on two things: balance and traction. I think the traction skills come a little later, maybe in intermediate classes—how to find and break traction when needed. But I learnt a lot about balance, throttle, and clutch control from that short clinic, and I’ve added to it with some instruction at SMART Riding Adventures, Clinton Smout’s school in Barrie, Ontario, and a couple of Spring Refresher days with GS instructors at some clubs here in Quebec.
I’ve cobbled together five drills that I try to practice when I have an hour or so to spare. I recently heard Chris Birch say in an interview on Adventure Rider Radio that really what you learn at his weekend courses are exercises that everyone should then go out and practice after the weekend. No one is going to learn how to ride off road well in a weekend, but if you practice, like in any sport, you’ll improve.
These are five exercises I do to improve my skills.
Static Balance
Everything starts with balance, and the best exercise to dial in the neutral point when the bike is in perfect balance is static balance. Jimmy had us attempting this without any assistance and it was hard. No one could really balance for more than a second or two. I think the better way to do it is how the dirt bike guys do it, full lock and your front brake on. You can also move the tire side to side a bit to dig a little rut into the dirt for support. Alternatively, you can lower your front tire pressure or get the bike on a hill pointed down so the front suspension is compressed a bit, which makes it easier.
Okay, it’s not an asphalt but you can do it at the top of your driveway on the grass if your partner doesn’t mind the groove permanently dug into the lawn.
Touch and Go
This one I got from Brett Tkacs’ video on his asphalt drills. It teaches fine braking, clutch, throttle control, and balance. You simply come to a complete stop at each obstacle and touch it with your foot or hand. You can use anything available such as parking blocks, lamp standards, garbage cans, etc. All these drills are simple but not easy. This one is a particular challenge for me on the Tiger.
Sorry about the crappy framing at the beginning.
Figure 8
This one teaches counterbalancing in tight turns both seated and standing. It’s important be able to turn both ways so the figure 8 ensures this. Just place two markers about 6 meters apart as your centre-point of each turn. (A tennis ball cut in half works best.)
For seated turns, you want to shift your butt off the seat—the one cheek sneak—to shift your weight. It’s not enough to move your upper body; you have to move your hips, where most of your weight is, even if you are diminutive like me.
For standing turns, I concentrate on gripping the bike with my legs. For a left turn, for example, I hold myself from falling off the bike when leaning by planting my left calf and thigh against the engine and my right knee against the other side, just under the tank. Using leverage in this way, I’m “locked in.”
For both seated and standing turns, vision is crucial. You want to put your chin on your shoulder and look to where you want to be, the next cone, not the one you are turning around. Keep your revs up so you have power on hand should you feel the bike falling and can clutch out without stalling. The goal is full-lock turns both ways.
Circus Act
This exercise teaches you to move independently of the bike but stay in balance. Begin by standing and riding with one hand, both sides, then lifting a leg off each peg. Once you’re comfortable doing that, swing a leg over your seat and sit side-saddle long enough to place the opposite foot on the peg, so put the right leg on the left peg, and stand up. Then sit back down side-saddle, get your left foot back on the left foot-peg, swing both legs over so you are sitting side-saddle the other way and put your left foot on the ride foot-peg. You’ll find the bike wants to tip to the side all your weight is on so be ready and compensate by tipping the bike away from you. As long as both you and the bike together are in balance, you won’t fall.
I find this exercise helpful for when you get into sand and mud and rocks and the bike starts moving around underneath you. Your muscle memory will remember and you’ll shift your weight to the opposite side to compensate. Off-road riding requires a lot of movement side-to-side with your upper body to compensate when the bike becomes unbalanced.
Finally, I get back to normal seating and then dismount the bike while it’s still rolling. (This teaches clutch and throttle control again.) Walk beside the bike for a few meters then put your left foot on the left foot-peg and do a rolling mount. You’ll have to transfer you weight quickly over the centre line of the bike to avoid it falling toward you. It’s a bit of a step of faith (not quite a leap) so commit and keep the revs up and the bike rolling. Do the same on the other side. The rolling mount is good practice for fine clutch, throttle, and balance, but can be handy in some situations on the trail.
Friction Point Practice
Find a hill or incline (a loading ramp will do) and point your bike uphill. Slowly roll the bike up and back using only the throttle and clutch, no brakes. Try holding the bike stationary for a few seconds only using the throttle and clutch, then roll back and stop the roll, again, only using the throttle and clutch.
I learnt this skill from the IRC Tire guy and he says it teaches you to break the habit of trying to hold the bike on an unsuccessful hill climb with the front brake. Instead, you have to develop muscle memory to use the engine to brake when rolling back on a hill. It also dials you into the friction point of your clutch and helps develop traction on hill climbs. You don’t want to spin the rear tire and lose traction.
All these drills look simple and easy but they are far from easy. I like them though for their simplicity, allowing you to practice them anytime you have a few minutes or even at the start of each ride.
I’m no expert, so feel free to offer advice in the comments section; I won’t be offended. I’m always eager to learn.
Do you have some exercises you do regularly? Drop them in the comments section too. I’ve kept this to 5 so they can be done quickly, but I know there are a ton of excellent exercises out there, so pass on your favourite(s).
Don’t believe everything you hear: there’s a way you can ride safely.
If there’s one motorcycle expression I hate it’s “ride safe,” and not because I’m an English teacher. I know the sentiment expressed is of concern, just as I know the expression is grammatically incorrect, but I also know the risks every time I pull on my helmet and throw a leg over the saddle. Saying “ride safe” to a motorcyclist is like saying “Hey, you know you’re working on a no-hitter?” to a pitcher sometime around the bottom of the seventh. Don’t think he or she isn’t aware of it, and drawing attention to this fact is not really helping.
I delayed my dream of riding a motorcycle for decades because someone told me it’s irresponsible to ride if you’re a parent of young children. When I started riding, in my first year, I overheard a club member say, “It’s not a matter of when but how bad.” He was recounting an accident of another club member and it scared the s**t out of me. I resisted watching YouTube crashes for as long as my curiosity would let me. And when I politely tried explaining to a colleague who had expressed a similar dream of riding how he might be able to do it safely, he wrote me later, half-jokingly, “My wife says I’m not allowed to talk to you anymore about getting a motorcycle.”
Riding is not as dangerous you might think, provided you follow a few basic principles.
Trust me: we are aware of the risks. We face them in one form or another, whether in personal experience (“Phew! That was close.”) or public perception (“donorcycle,” and in Quebec, “mortocycle, ha ha). But I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that riding is not as dangerous you might think, provided you follow a few basic principles. I’m not going to argue that it’s as safe as driving a car, because it clearly isn’t, and stats don’t lie, despite what Mark Twain says. But if you do it the right way, you can minimize the risk significantly, lowering it to a reasonable probable return on investment instead of willed denial of your mortality.
As I see it, there are five key factors to staying alive.
1. Start the right way: do a good training course.
Riding is a skill, and like any skill, you can learn it either through trial and error or through some guided instruction. I say this is one you probably want to learn using the latter. I wish I’d taken a few classes at a pro shop before I took up golfing in my early teens; it would have saved me a lot of frustration and some fairways a few nasty divots. Surprisingly, or maybe not surprisingly, Quebec is the exception in Canada by making a certified skills course mandatory. I haven’t researched the licensing requirements of the various U.S. states, but if I know anything about the founding principles of that country, I suspect the term “mandatory” does not appear very often in their licensing documentation. This is such a shame because I learnt a ton from my skills course. It consisted of 6 hours of theory and 26 hours of practice, including 16 hours closed track and 10 hours guided road practice.
Doing a skills course apparently gains you the equivalent of about two years of riding experience.
We learnt everything from the correct way to get on and off the bike to throttle control, clutch control, counter-balancing, counter-steering, target fixation, emergency avoidance, emergency braking . . . everything except for how to wheelie, unless you forgot to lean forward when practicing emergency accelerating. And yes, we learnt, inevitably, how to pick up the bike correctly without damaging your back. By the time I did my road test, I was a pretty confident rider with a solid foundation in the basic skills with some developing muscle memory. Doing a course like this apparently gains you the equivalent of about two years of riding experience and, more importantly, gets you safely through that critical newbie period when the majority of accidents occur. It should be mandatory everywhere, and not taking one voluntarily is just stupid.
The 2021 Ducati Panigale
2. Choose the right bike
If you look at the mortality statistics, most deaths are young men. And if you are a young man and look at a Ducati Panigale and don’t feel a tingle of excitement in your nether-regions, see your doctor. Young men are looking for power these days and will find it in action movies, guns, games, or engines. Now imagine it’s 150 years ago, before the invention of automobiles, and Junior is about to learn how to drive the family wagon. He nervously climbs up onto the platform and takes the reins in trembling hands. Ahead of him are 214 horses harnessed together stretching up over the hill into the neighbouring farm. Does that make sense? The Panigale’s V4 delivers 214 hp at 13,000 rpm and 12.6 kgm of torque. That’s a lot of power to control your first time out.
I suggest starting on a bike no bigger than 650cc in size. Smaller is even better. There’s nothing wrong with a fun little 250 for your first few years of riding.
In Europe and some provinces in Canada, you have to start on a small bike and work up to a big one. For example, in the EU, if you are under 18 years old, you must start with an A1 license that allows you to ride a bike with up to 14.75 ponies. That’s a scooter, moped, or a “real” motorcycle up to approximately 125cc in size, so basically a sewing machine on wheels. (The size of the engine is less crucial than the power to weight ratio, but we’ll stick with cc numbers for simplicity’s sake.) If you are 18, you can start with an A2 Restricted license and a bike in the 250 to 500cc range. After two years, you can graduate to a full A1 license with no power restrictions. It’s a little more complicated than how I’ve summarized, but the essential idea is that you start on a small bike and after a certain amount of experience can ride a more powerful bike. This makes a lot of sense to me since it’s the weight and power that you have to learn how to control.
So if you are shopping for your first bike, despite the licensing in your region, do you really want to start on a litre bike? Don’t listen to the argument that you will “outgrow” a smaller bike. That’s the point: don’t die. I suggest starting on a bike no bigger than 650cc in size. Smaller is even better. There’s nothing wrong with a fun little 250 for your first few years of riding. In A Christmas Story, Ralphie finally gets his Red Ryder BB gun, but we suspect the story would have a different ending if it were an automatic rifle under the tree.
3. Ride with a club, at least for your first year
I’ve written about the benefits of club riding already. A key one is that you will be riding with experienced riders who know how fast to take a corner, how to adjust their riding in rain or after dark, when to take a break, and generally how to stay safe. It’s Darwin’s theory of natural selection in practice, only what is passed on here is not DNA but sound advice gained from lived experience. Again, here in Quebec, for your first 11 months of riding under a probationary license, you have to go out with “an escort.” (Pro Tip: if you are a married man, be sure to explain to your wife than an escort in this context is someone who has had a full license for at least two years.) A few years ago, the Quebec government scrapped this requirement, changing instead to the stipulation that beginners can ride only between sunrise and sunset. I guess that experiment didn’t go well because they’ve brought it back, much to the chagrin of newbies.
If you are starting to ride, go find a club to ride with. If you are a club that doesn’t accept newbies, shame on you.
When I started riding at the ripe old age of 52, I didn’t have any friends who rode, but I was fortunate to find a local club that accepts learners. It allowed me to ride that first season, putting in over 10,000 kilometers and gaining crucial muscle memory. According to the Hurt Report, the most comprehensive study yet on motorcycle fatalities, over half of accidents that occur happen within the first five months of riding, so my club got me through the most critical period of learning. Club riding is safe also because group riding is more visible to drivers than a solo motorcyclist. The most common type of accident is a car turning left in front of a bike at an intersection because the driver didn’t see the motorcycle. Ryan F9 has done an interesting video explaining the physiological reasons for this blindness. One can forgive the oversight of a single headlamp, but if you missed the dozen motorcycles coming at you through the intersection, put your phone away when driving.
There is some informal coaching that occurs off the bikes too, and as an added benefit, you develop friendships that last well beyond the probationary period (of your license, that is). So if you are starting to ride, go find a club to ride with. If you are a club that doesn’t accept newbies, shame on you.
At the Manic-5 dam on a club ride
4. Get the gear
Quick quiz: of the riders pictured above, which catch your eye first? Duh! I like what Clinton Smout says about this: it’s not loud pipes that save lives but loud colours. Don’t want to appear nerdy? I get it. It doesn’t take much to catch the eye. That’s why I’m wearing that single armband over my black jacket (far right, so to speak). You don’t need your jacket to be the equivalent of leaning on the horn when a little “beep-beep” will do to get attention.
Want to wear that classic black leather jacket? Go ahead, but consider some colour in your helmet. Want to wear a black helmet too? Get some auxiliary lighting to increase your visibility. A single headlight can get lost amid the many lights on the road today, but if you can arrange your aux lighting to form a triangle with your headlight, that will significantly increase your chances of being seen. Don’t want to get aux lighting because it cramps your style? At least flash your high-beam as you approach an intersection if you are not sure that driver turning left has seen you. When the majority of multi-vehicle accidents are caused by not being seen, anything you can do to increase your visibility will help.
According to data collected by Dietmar Otte and cited in Proficient Motorcycling (Hough 38), as much as one-third of impacts on the helmet are on the chin bar, so a full-face helmet provides significantly more protection than an open-face helmet, and significantly more protection than, uh, no helmet at all. New Hampshire is one of three states without a motorcycle helmet law, which might explain why their license plates read “Live Free or Die.” Perhaps they should say “Live Free and Die.” Seriously, I don’t want to sound preachy about any of this. What you wear on the bike is entirely your decision, but if you want to ride as safely as possible, get a good helmet, preferably a full-face with a Snell rating, which is the highest rating for safety.
When the majority of multi-vehicle accidents are caused by not being seen, anything you can do to increase your visibility will help.
Now that you’ve protected your head, you might consider protecting the next most vulnerable part of your body—your neck. Last year I started wearing a neck brace. It sits on my shoulders and obstructs the helmet on impact from being pushed beyond the limits of my neck. An independent study found that a neck brace significantly reduces the probability of serious neck trauma. It’s comfortable and once I put it on, I forget that it’s there. I’m confident that, in time, neck braces will become as common and perhaps even as required as helmets. If you want the ultimate protection, consider an air vest. This technology is developing rapidly today in terms of improved algorithms, ease of use, and cost. I suspect that they, too, will become the norm, as air bags have become required in all automobiles since 1998.
This is a big topic and I don’t want to loose sight of the forest for the trees. Let’s just say that there is a lot of excellent protective gear available today, incredible stuff like D30 that wasn’t around even a decade ago. A jacket and pants with good abrasion resistance, CE2 rated armor, a back protector, boots, and gloves complete your kit and are an important part of minimizing risk.
5. Have the right attitude
I’ve been driving a car for close to 40 years and have never had even a fender-bender. There’s more to this boast than skill. It’s mostly a product of awareness of my environment and the ability to anticipate problems before they occur. It’s also not pushing my limits in any dangerous way; you have to save a little buffer, say 15%, for the unexpected. Sometimes it’s listening to my body when it gets tired, and sometimes it’s listening to my gut when it knows I’m heading into danger. My dad used to say that his stomach tells him when he’s speeding before his eyes and the speedometer do. And sometimes it’s a faculty that can only be called intuition if not luck. Once he raced off towards Portsmouth, enjoying the speed, when some voice inside told him to take it easy, so he checked his speed. A little further down the road around a blind corner a pile of dirt had been dropped on the road, probably from a farmer’s cart. That would have been real trouble. Mulder and Scully never investigated any of this paranormal phenomena, but they would have made pretty safe motorcyclists, I imagine.
I know a guy who uses a mantra to get in the right frame of mind as he gets ready to ride. As he pulls on his helmet, he thinks to himself, “Everyone wants to kill me.” That’s pretty good, albeit a bit negative. I like to think of my helmet as an invisibility cloak, like Harry Potter’s. And that makes me think of my son.
My wife did a little riding with me this past summer. I don’t push it with her on the back, not only because of the, eh hem, extra weight that affects the bike’s dynamics, but also because I figure a pillion is already nervous; there’s no need to ride like an idiot to impress. And after one such easy ride, she said—referring to the whole safety thing—”I get it,” by which she meant it’s only as dangerous as you want to make it. You are in complete control of your risk. I’m not saying you can eliminate all risk—there’s always bad luck—but how much risk you want to take on a given day is literally in the palm of your (right) hand.
I know a guy who uses a mantra to get in the right frame of mind as he gets ready to ride. As he pulls on his helmet, he thinks to himself, “Everyone wants to kill me.”
There are books written on motorcycle safety, and websites and YouTube channels devoted to the technical details of the subject. But to simplify it all, there’s a clear pathway to entering the sport safely: do a course, get the right bike, join a club, buy the gear, and adopt the right attitude. I no longer believe that a crash is inevitable, although risk is certainly a part of riding that we have to manage.
Ironically, I’ve never written a post about safety, although it’s the first thing that comes to most people’s minds when you say you ride. “Isn’t that dangerous?” they ask. Yes, but then so is taking a dump. Think of Elvis. I was really good when I was young at postponing immediate gratification. I was a good boy and buckled down to put myself through university, then I postponed responsibly to raise a child. I oriented my life toward the big golden pot of retirement at the center of the cartoon maze. But when you get into your 50s, you begin to see friends, neighbours, acquaintances, perhaps even family who sadly never make it to the golden years. There’s risk in not doing what your heart desires too, whatever that may be.
So if you’ve always wanted to ride, don’t let your mind talk you out of what your heart is saying. Go ahead and get a bike, but do it right. Ride safe, yes, but more importantly, ride smart. I mean, smartly.
Have I missed something essential to staying safe? Please comment, follow, and share (not because I get any more money—the site is not monetized—but because I like an audience).
650thumper 