The thought of riding is never too far from the fore of an enthusiasts mind.
Those of you addicted to the thrill of two wheels know what I mean.
The thought of the decreasing radius apexes that have the rider feathering a back brake to wash off the extra speed to enable the bike or in most cases the riders mind negotiate its gut wrenching side wall traction loss in the face of a solid fortification of blasted rock face.
It can be long constant sweepers that allow the throttle to be applied with increasing volume that has one exiting the bend at twice the speed of encounter. A flicking of machine through chicanes that has our reference point pitching through ninety degrees of gravity defying gradients and back again, a magic exhilarating flawless flowing motion if there ever was one.
Then there is the cruiser concept where it is the freedom, wind in the face and two wheels under the body that is all the soul requires to be complete.
Off roaders and dirt fiends extract the thrill of perceived speed, loose surface and unencumbered liberty to go any where any time.
But essentially it all breaks down to two wheels fossil fuel and exposure to the surroundings that make our devotee do what they do.
So as far as transport goes it has to be one of humankind’s greatest contributions to empower modern people moving. Not only does it develop ones own style of getting there, is also requires more input from the operator than the other forms of common motorized people carrying devices that compete for space on our network of transport arteries.
Having been on the bitter end of the riding experience more than a few times, numbering 10 over 33 years of riding, the question is asked not by me but those around. “You going to stop, give up, get a car or just take the bus?” It is an interesting concept that the non riders among us proffer up at the time of incapacitation even if it was due to being hit by a car while jogging on this occasion. A seemingly covert ‘I told you so’ of veiled smugness derived from another’s misfortune. When you really know there is nothing they will ever do in their daily activities that will ever come close to a ride through the twisties with the roar of exhaust and wailing of air as it rips past the helmet vents. That buzz of getting it right, nailing the apex or surviving getting it wrong is ephemeral, with no time to relive the experience until the next stop or resting point. The power drift on loose surface as fuel feeds internal combustion technology of a big bore dirt muncher that enables the launch skywards over a blind hump of earth.
The time off the road bestows time to reflect on the essence of the ride. Those images that flicker by like an electric picture show within ones mind. It encompasses the road, bikes scenery and the part that I feel makes riding a whole life experience, the people. An eclectic mix of superstar millionaires on the GP circuit, vagabonds with rat bikes and third world populace just holding their machines together with anything that keeps them running, no matter whom or where they are from the two wheeled enthusiast has an incontrovertible bond.
I was with the endodontist the other day having the dreaded root canal procedure, more so the dent in the pocket rather than the ensuing discomfort. He likes bikes and was saying to his other half; a non rider type, who told him he had to choose between going to the world super bikes or motogp this year!! His answer was in true aficionado fashion; “Yerrr I chose both”, you have to love that response, one that extracted a giggle from Mrs Desmo. Anyone who has ridden knows the skill and commitment that is required to present the level of entertainment that the top level of our sport provides.
The girl who serves me at the local coffee shop started to ride a scooter as a means of cheap transport in times of high fuel prices she soon found the bug and within months has moved up to a postie bike. You can see the glint in the eye when riding is mentioned it is just a matter of time before R-date frees her to encompass larger capacity machines. Like I said it is the people that make the world of motorbikes so enjoyable, no matter how you go about it, a ride with others is always more enthralling. You can re-live the experiences and story after story are always on offer in the rest times.
The act of riding itself is a solitary process where the individual makes life and death decisions on a by second basis. Although the procedure is second nature to the experienced rider the novice must employ large reserves of neuron activity just to survive. Our playground is a treacherous arena with variables often out of our realm of control that within an instant can result in irreversible consequences, some tragic others frighteningly exciting.
Few of us have escaped the results of unfortunate circumstances; I see many cases through my involvement with MRASA’s 4Bs from children on peewee 50’s to a 70 year old on an Aerial square four with a broken hip. Most with resolve endure the passing to ride again. A number of the brethren don’t or are left in a state where it is impossible to remount a two wheeled machine. Fortunately advances in modern medicine is reducing this number but either way we all know if you have an off on a motorcycle it is going to hurt in some form or another.
So this in not the usual Desmo ride report, full of superlatives that attempt to put the smell of un-burnt fuel in your nostrils, but a reflection on a passion that flows through everyone who sits on a motorized two wheeled machine. Be it an instrument of pleasure, practicality, economic encumbrance, lifestyle or any other application that finds our fellow rider depressing a starter, kicking them over or pushing it down the road before embarking on adventure that encompasses a ride on the motorcycle. Be it down the shop, around a track or across the globe we all share the camaraderie, inherent hazards and thrills that make up life on two wheels.
Desmo
