March issue closing date -> we are closing
I'm not a talented motorcyclist – column
I'm not a talented motorcyclist, but after riding for more than half a century—including the last five years without riding in winter—I consider myself an experienced rider. In the first twenty years, a few things went quite seriously wrong. This was essentially due to a lack of experience and too much testosterone. But somewhere between then and now, my accident rate dropped to approximately zero. That positive trajectory began after reading a book by Ernst "Klacks" Leverkus.
From the 1950s to the 1970s, Ernst Leverkus tested virtually every new motorcycle that came onto the German market. Together with his partner Inge Rogge, he developed test methods and measurement procedures for motorcycles, which were a regular feature of countless laps on the "green hell," the Nürburgring-Nordschleife, and the resulting test reports in magazines. Das Motorrad en PSHe made motorcycle journalism mature. In the most proper, German way.
As a motorcycle journalist and author, Ernst Leverkus has literally written motorcycling history in Germany since 1950. He also wrote books. He coined the statement "Every fall is a disgrace." Anyone who wants to see that sink in immediately should check out Kanyar Foto's Daily Crazy Corner on social media.
But in reality, Leverkus's remark woke me up. "Every fall is your own fault." That's what makes people bristle. It could even be because they've lost a loved one in a motorcycle accident that was, in fact, caused by "the other party." For which I offer my deepest sympathy. Because: "The light was green for me," "I was driving on a priority road," "he/she/it came from the left." You're right. But do you get it? Is that right, that right, relevant when you've just recovered and are looking at your bruised motorcycle?
Since I've realized that every possible fall, every accident, is my own fault, I've started driving differently. In a mild paranoia, I think of the mouse bravely emerging from under the kitchen cabinet, looking into the lens and squeaking: "We mice have the right to the kitchen floor too!" Famous last words. Because there was a cat in the kitchen.
On my motorcycle, I cheerfully and relaxedly assume that every other road user is brain-dead, blind, or a criminal. I've brought anticipation and foresight to an Olympic level. In traffic jams, I watch the front wheels. Because they reveal every possible change of direction. Men with fedoras in older, larger, mid-size cars or arthritic-friendly pastries? Dangerous! A blue-washed perm behind the wheel. Any random cyclist or fat biker from about six years old. Young men with their caps on backward. The driver in the stationary car in front of you could open their door at any moment. Any living creature of any gender with a smartphone in their forearms is potentially deadly.
They're all out to kill me. Just like road workers and their bituminous asphalt repairs. Municipalities with life-threatening road marking techniques. Wet black or rainbow colors on curves. Me, paranoid? What would you be if everyone was trying to kill you!
Of course, that whole philosophy involves mastering your motorcycle. And with the average mileage reported for the average motorcyclist, I don't believe it's possible to develop such good vehicle control. I'm quite allergic to rules and regulations. But for "regular" recreational motorcyclists, advanced driver training, even if only a one-day course, should be mandatory. Just to learn that you can ride up a sidewalk and that you can easily take a stretch of shoulder on a regular motorcycle. To learn that you go where you're looking. That you should never look directly at the road ahead.
I've been accident-free for about thirty years. Well, almost. Except for one instance where I fell at a crawl on black grit on the road one dark night.
Oh yeah: I got a tip regarding evidence after an accident: wear a helmet camera before every ride. And turn it on.
That's something I'm definitely not going to do.
But hey… Who am I?
Another excellent story with useful reflections Dolf!!
My wife gave me a birthday card with a 50-guilder note, still fair value, stuck on it. "Better to test drive with a pink note than without one!" was the motto. (For the younger ones among us: back then it was a pink slip of paper, not a pink card.)
The fact was, I was doing maintenance on the motorcycles of my friends who did ride. This included adjusting valves, synchronizing carburetors, adjusting steering heads, and who knows what else. Whenever I asked how it steered, how it picked up, etc., I'd get a helmet thrown at my head and told, "Hey, go test ride it yourself." So I did, but I didn't bother riding one of those things every month, week, let alone day, but still. And so I got my first lessons. After about 15 lessons, I was done. After failing the first time (according to the instructor), it went smoothly the second time around, and I passed. The bike (Blauwtje) was my commuter for years until I retired early, in all weathers.
About two years after I got my driver's license, I took one of those day courses. WORTH GOLD!! An excellent instructor taught me crucial skills that I still remember every ride, over 25 years later. Because during that course, a student on an R1100GS kept flying past me with a smoking rear wheel during braking tests, while I, with Blauwtje, was still stopping far in front of the lines, I had to ride the GS for fifteen minutes to get used to it and then perform the braking trick (deemed impossible by the owner). So I stopped just as quickly. The owner saw it, gained confidence in his front brake, and it was a breeze. The most important lesson was to always have your way out ready. So always think, "That car idiot won't see me." Create a clear view and look as far as possible through and over cars to see what's happening there. Keep your distance!! It's simple. If there's enough distance between you and an object, you can't crash into it. Also, make sure you know your motorcycle inside and out, so you can even stop it with a stoppie in an emergency, if you like. What I personally detest is the presence of ABS. It may be handy, but it undeniably erodes my riding skills. I want to be able to steer the bike with the brakes. Does that belief make me a better rider? No, but it keeps me alert and sharp. Always leave overconfidence at home and ensure your vision is and remains sharp. The motorcycle should feel like a tailor-made suit, an extension of your body and limbs. Not just sitting "on" it, but feeling "in" it. Becoming one with the thing. That's helped me so far, and I'm certainly not a slow rider, far from it, in fact.
We're never too old to learn!
Yes, a column like this is interesting. Every experienced motorcyclist has their own experiences and story. Me too, I'll have been riding mopeds and motorcycles for 65 years next year, and I'm still very enthusiastic. As long as it's not too cold below 20°C, that is! I'd love to write a column about mopeds or motorcycles sometime. I've experienced and done so much in my life in that area. So plenty of choice! About the Moped Marathon in the Alps, or buying a 50cc at a flea market in Serbia and riding home on it, or breaking down in France with a Jawa 250cc in 1962…?
But falling, oh, you can't completely avoid it; it's always a dent in your ego! When my daughter started riding her moped, I told her, "Pay attention, a car could come from every side road. Always look ahead, anticipate." "Then the fun of riding disappears completely if you always have to be so vigilant," she said. That's precisely the point: looking ahead and anticipating everything has to become automatic. I don't have to think about it anymore; it just happens naturally. And I enjoy it! Sincerely, Ötzi
Writing things down? What?! Create a whole book? Do it! It's so easy these days: via Printing On Demand. Print runs from zero to hundreds—what am I saying: thousands of copies. Just submit as a (corrected) Word doc. And a photo or image for the cover. A little text for the back cover. Done. That's how I once compiled a whole collection of columns as "Men, Motorcycles, and (Some) Girls." Your first book is already sold. To me!
Riding a motorcycle and falling…well.
I've always understood that every motorcyclist (M/F) falls sooner or later.
I am among the fallen…
Since I am often on the road in winter on 2 or 3 wheels, that risk is lurking.
In most cases (I'm an expert by experience) I couldn't do anything about it: slippery conditions, road salt, loose gravel.
It teaches you to put things into perspective; gravity works, and falling hurts!
On 3 wheels, slippery conditions are more manageable, because a slide does not result in a fall.
And drifting through the bend has its charm too; even though you're terrified and fighting to keep the sliding monster in check, to the watching world you're a hero... or an idiot.
If they give you a thumbs up: HERO. If they duck… Oh well. Be careful!
Madame Eletricienne, after reading your nostalgic piece, immediately thought back to my driving test. After a practice permit, a few lessons, and you'd get your driver's license in 68. Unfortunately for me, my tonsils had to be removed exactly two weeks before my driving test, which had already been requested. Those scheduled lessons vanished from my mind because the hospital bed was much more exciting. After the operation, I spent a few more days in the hospital, and on the way home, I had a coughing fit that resulted in a post-operative hemorrhage, which meant I had to return immediately and stay for a few more days. I wasn't allowed outside for another five days. I did it anyway, and I took the test with a large scarf tied over my face. I hadn't forgotten that you have to stop at a stop sign, just like at a priority intersection where no one is coming. I lost the examiner twice, and when I returned, he asked me if I wanted a hospital pass. It was actually quite logical that I hadn't passed. The next time, the examiner thought I was a woman because my hair was too long, and it wasn't until the third time that I passed. Seven years later, things finally went well for the car, but that was because the examiner's father had been to Spain on his Harley. And we chatted about that the whole time.
From the moment I started riding a motorcycle, I assumed everyone on the road was out to kill me.
Fallen twice in 45 years, both on oil on the road surface and on one side.
Damage, broken mirror and dent in ego.
Now it may be that my moped didn't go fast enough and my father said to his daughter, if you want to go faster, just buy a motorcycle.
Three weeks later…..
The man was so big that he said, don't make any mess and if you get arrested you stole it from the shed.
I was 16.
At 26, I finally got the pink paper.
But driving without a driving licence and an apparent lack of testosterone meant that I always drove cautiously and vigorously.
And I have continued to do so.
By the way, I don't recommend it to anyone, 10 years without it, you have to unlearn a lot for the exam...