Category: Tim’s Motorcycle Diaries

Five years ago I began the never ending apprenticeship of motorcyclist.  The summer before I had a chance to ride a dirt bike at a friend’s farm and got bitten.  My mother had always been adamant about me not riding, so I didn’t, but she had died the year before and I was suddenly able to do something I’d always wanted to try.  That same summer I also became qualified as a technology teacher and was interested in dusting off my hands-on repair skills.  Motorcycling offered a perfectly timed riding and technical renaissance one-two punch.


When I was eighteen and looking for my first car I realized I couldn’t afford it and started looking at motorcycles.  My parents ponied up the difference to keep me out of the saddle.  Living in Canada meant bikes aren’t a year round transportation solution anyway.  I ended up getting so deep into cars that I never found my way back to bikes, but the urge had always been there.  When I had my highest amount of disposable income in my early twenties while working full time before university, I was thinking about a bike again when a co-worker ran a red light on his bike and killed himself in front of all of us as we were coming in for our shift.  That put the brakes on getting a bike yet again.


Twenty years later…

Things moved quickly as the snow melted in 2013.  I walked in to the Drivetest Centre and got my learner’s permit after a long winter spent buying magazines, watching TV shows and reading books on motorcycles; I was rearing to go.  A couple of weeks later I was taking the introductory motorcycle course at Conestoga College.  There was nothing better than high speed passes through the cones, leaning the little learner bike to and fro.  A few days after that I’d found a poorly used Kawasaki Ninja in town and had it in the garage less than a week later.  Meanwhile it was still snowing outside (oh, Canada).


Soon enough the weather turned and I was out on the road.  It was only a 650cc twin cylinder Kawasaki, but it went 0-60 faster than anything I’d ever owned and looked like a rocket ship.  The time I was sat at an intersection and a Ferrari pulled up next to me and started revving its engine was the first time I explored the Ninja over 6000rpm, and I was gobsmacked.  With the Ferrari car lengths behind me I dropped the bike into top gear and gave my head a shake.  Leaning into corners is still my favourite aspect of motorcycle dynamics, but the acceleration of even a mid-sized motorbike is a thing to glory in, and they brake like mad things too.  In addition to being out in the world on a bike, you’re on an athletic machine that can embarrass anything else you’re likely to meet.  It was my mission to come to grips with this wonderful machine.


By May I had my M2 and could carry passengers and go on big highways, so I immediately spent all of July commuting solely on the bike to a summer course seventy kilometres each way including a blast down the biggest highway in Canada.  The first time I pulled out on the highway I eased up to 90km/hr and followed the slow lane.  That lasted for about ten seconds and then I was gone.  The next morning I indicated onto the highway, shoulder checked and was at a buck twenty in the fast lane a second later; what a rush.


What typified my first year of biking was my commitment to using the thing.  Rather than take the car if it was raining, I put on rain gear.  Rather than take the car when I had to go shopping, I found a way to carry what I was getting home on the bike.  That commitment was what got me racking up over five thousand kilometres on the Ninja, which isn’t easy in Canada with its short riding season.

The mechanical side of things had me taking care of basic maintenance, but the Ninja was my first choice of bike because it was a mid-capacity machine that was relatively new and in ready to ride shape – the idea was to learn how to ride.  I’d leave the deep mechanical work for future years.  Most of the repair energy on the Ninja was spent on un-blacking it and making it colourful again.  When I eventually sold it I got pretty much what I’d paid for it even though I’d added over ten thousand kilometres to it, so the painting paid off.


Future years would have me diversifying my bikes and rescuing a basket case that would challenge my technical skills and have me knee deep in mechanics, but the early years were all about riding as much as possible.

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Someone had a similar shirt at the Indy MotoGP, and it got a lot of smiles from the uncaged crowd-Zazzle let me recreate it

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There was a time when I was loopy about cars, they were all I could think about.  That passion slowly faded as cars became an appliance to get me to work.  The freedom they once represented became an expectation.  You’re less inclined to fettle a car that you are depending on.

When I began riding a few years ago I rediscovered that passion.  Where driving a car is an expectation of adult life, riding is the exception, you’ve got to really want to do it.  It’s a more physically and mentally challenging mode of transport that demands more of you while also risking more of you.

The reward is being ‘in the wind’.  You are out in the world on an elemental machine that offers you a sense of immediacy that no car can match.  On top of the magic is a rational foundation of performance and cost.  My bike can out accelerate a Corvette while getting better mileage than a Prius, and it does it all while offering thrills unmatched on four wheels for a fraction of the cost.  You can also comfortably fit three bikes in a one car garage.  If you’re into vehicles as a passion, bikes take the cake in terms of economy and performance.

You might say, ‘hang on, what about super cars?”  You’re not going to find them particularly economical, but surely they are better performing.  Cycle World magazine recently did an article on just that.  The ‘Vette got buried by everything there.  The Kawasaki H2 was the fastest machine to 60 and 100.  The only place it lost out was top speed to the Mclaren P1, which topped out fifteen miles per hour faster thanks to some fancy aerodynamic bodywork.

This might be the moment that cars take back the performance crown, but it’ll cost ya.  The McLaren P1 goes for $1,150,000US (just over $1.5 million Canadian), and they’re sold out.  The H2 will cost you $27,500 Canadian, and with some aerodynamic tweaking borrowed from the H2R (I think I’d make my own carbon bodywork), an Akrapovič exhaust that’ll increase power, sound fantastic and shave off almost six kilos (€1,415, or about $2125 Canadian dollars), it’d be a beast.  Add in some power commander kit to electronically improve engine output and you’ll have an H2 that will be fastest, period.

With less than $4000CAN in aftermarket kit, you would have a weaponized H2 that would work over the two million dollar McLaren six ways from Sunday.

 
The tweaked H2 would set you back about $31,500.  With some carbon bodywork to aid high speed passage through the air, you’d still be under forty grand.

I once dreamed of super cars.  Now I’d happily go for the H2 with some steps toward an H2R, have something rare, beautiful and fastest, and save myself 97.5% of the cost of the McLaren.  My mid-life motorcycle fixation is eminently reasonable compared to the irrational fetish of the super car, now solely reserved for the one percenter.  

Motorcycles are democratic… speed for everyone!

… I know it’s the super H2R (fifty grand), but my god…

We loaded up our wee mini-van and spent 48 hours out in the woods near Bobcaygeon.  Into the back I packed some helmets and the tiny Yamaha.

The cottage we were at is an ideal base for off-roading.  It’s at the end of a long gravel fire road deep in the woods, and it’s surrounded by off road snowmobile trails.  You couldn’t ask for a better place to practice the art of riding off road on two wheels.

I really need to get my mits on an off road bike so I can go on those trails with my boy on his bike.

While I was lamenting my lack of a dual sport I went out on one of the ATVs and rode some trails with an eye for how a bike might make its way through three foot deep puddles and up rocky washed out trails.  The ATV is like a tank, bashing its way through with brute force and massive wheels.  You’ve got no chance of falling off and you pretty much knock your way through on a hugely over-square, balanced machine.  A bike would be like a scalpel after using a butcher’s cleaver.


The inherent lack of balance on a bike means pounding through those massive puddles would be a tricky proposition.  I can’t wait to try it.  Since I started riding I’ve realized how many different ways there are to learn motorcycle dynamics, and off-roading will push those boundaries far more cheaply than track racing might.

I’m hoping to nail down an off road focused dual sport and some kit in the next couple of weeks and then I intend to spend a lot of time up on the trails around the cottage, falling off a lot and learning things I’d never get to learn on the road.

A lovely little Yamaha came up in Orangeville for sale.  I’m hoping it’s still available.  It’s a light weight, air cooled XT350, the grandchild of the venerable XT500.  It’d also look good with with my son’s PW80.  Just two guys out on their Yamahas.

Here’s hoping it’s still waiting for me.

Canada is far from free of racism, but it plays at a much lower volume here.  Canada’s mosaic approach to multiculturalism and more open immigration policy probably have a lot to do with this.  The United States’ melting pot must feel especially hot if you’re not what the ideal American is supposed to look like.

One of the things that always strikes me when I cross the border south is the unspoken friction between black and white Americans.  Being a big, white, bald Canadian means I’m often assumed to be an off-duty cop, which doesn’t help things.  There is so much history wrapped up in this that it feels heavy, even to an outsider.  When trying to strike up a conversation with a black person in the States you are usually met with polite reticence, like they’d just rather not speak to you.  It’s more trouble than it’s worth.

I get that reticence.  On a previous trip, out of nowhere, at a gas stop a white guy told us that his parents told him never to put money in his mouth because black people had touched it.  I guess we were supposed to laugh and feel a sense of camaraderie with this man, instead my wife and I looked at each other with WTF looks on our faces.

On my first solo trip to the States in the late ’80s my buddies and I walked into a Burger King in Milwaukee and were met with forty black faces looking at us with, ‘what the hell are you boys doing here?’ expressions.  It was one of the only times I’ve been stopped in my tracks by that kind of stare (we hesitated and then went in, had lunch and all was good).

MotoGP has riders from all over the world, from Japan to South America and everywhere between.  It’s a multi-cultural global event that doesn’t cater to racism.

On our recent trip to Indianapolis a young black woman at the counter dealt energetically with the four black people ahead of my son and I, but when we finally got to the counter she gave us a sideways glance and sauntered off in a kind of dance, eventually disappearing into the back, singing to herself.  We both stood there wondering what we were supposed to do (it’s hard to pay for gas in the States when you don’t have a ZIP code).  A few moments later another girl came out and served us.  It’s not easy explaining that sort of thing to your ten year old.

Motorcycles on Meridian has riders of all kinds digging bikes.

That friction began to break down when we were at the Speedway.  Suddenly everyone there was a motorcyclist first, even before what colour of American they were.  I found it easy to strike up conversations with people regardless of colour.  That positive energy followed us to Motorcycles on Meridian, where I once again found the motorcycle community outgunning any sense of racism.

The next morning at Cycle Gear we got into conversations with several groups of black riders coming into town for the Indy weekend.  Once again the walls were down and we could just talk bikes.  Again in Ohio, Max and I were taking a break in Wendy’s when a group of tough looking black bikers on Harleys came in, on their way from Detroit to Indy. The reticence was there at first (we were far from Indy at that point) but they soon warmed up to me.  We exchanged advice on road works and left wishing each other a safe ride.  Other people watched the exchange with interest.

Up in Detroit the lovely, young black woman who got our Little Caesars order sorted out had all sorts of questions about the bike and riding.  Motorcycling works even if you’re not talking to another motorcyclist.  There is something about the vulnerability of riding that encourages people to talk to you.  They find it admirable.

The kinship you feel while riding is a very real thing, but motorcycling reaches out into the general public too.  If motorcycling can overcome that tiring American black/white friction, it might just be able to do anything.

I know hyperbole sells papers, especially in the infamously hyperbolic British press, but with Dakar winners whining about how hard it is, the whole thing looks to be on the verge of imploding.  With all of this negative noise around it, it’s only a matter of time before some enterprising probably American lawyer attempts to shut the whole race down with a liability lawsuit.  I”m hoping the cavalier French organization running the Dakar are suitably prepared to deal with that.  It would be a crying shame to see the Dakar ended by such mediocrity.


These headlines popped up on Lyndon Posskitt’s Instragram feed.  In typical Lyndon fashion he was simply thankful for the attention, you’d be hard pressed to find a nicer guy.  That the headlines are so turned up to eleven as to be practically hysterical isn’t anything new.  When unprepared playboy racer Mark Thatcher got lost in the Sahara during the 1982 Paris to Dakar rally the British press lost their minds.  Rather than wonder why a spoiled rich kid who had forgotten about the race until the week before it began and then managed to navigate his driver almost two hundred kilometres off piste before crashing was in the mess he was in, they questioned this weird, dangerous foreign event.  Even the level headed BBC can’t help but describe it as a mental illness.


From  a more factual point of view, this Dakar had a 55% finishing rate.  I don’t know about the toughest Dakar in years, this year’s event had a better finishing rate than 2009, 2010, 2011, 2014 and 2015 (all years the race ran in South America).


In the almost thirty years the Dakar ran in Africa, only five times did half or more of the competitors cross the finish line.  It took until the 1990s to get over half of the starters to the finish for the first time.

Tacking on to the end of Red Bull’s graph there, in 2015 there was a 51% finishing rate.  2016 was a 62% finishing rate and 2017 came in at an all time high 72%.  Perhaps the issue is that the race has been catering to the results orientated professional rally teams more and more.  With their money and vested interests trying to control the race and maximize participation and therefore advertising revenue, there is moneyed pressure to turn the Dakar into a glorified two week world rally stage.  The quick professionals are the biggest complainers.  If you’re looking for proof, those inflationary finishing percentages tell a tale.  Or perhaps it’s because in 2018 everybody thinks they deserve a medal for showing up.

If anything this year’s Dakar looked like the desert races of old with sand, dunes and savage navigation.  What you’re seeing here is Dakar sporting director Marc Coma‘s course design getting better and better.  If anyone could take the Dakar back to its roots, it’s the guy who was worried about navigation losing its importance in the first place.  

You can take all the press hyperbole fed by professional speed-racer whining with a grain of salt.  The Dakar is in good hands and it will remain what it is: the toughest motorsport event in the world.

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I teach computer and software engineering when I’m not motorbiking.  This year I’m also doing a Ministry of Education grant on virtual reality research with some other teachers in my school board and it has left me wondering about how immersive simulation might work with motorcycles.

We have an Oculus Rift and an HTC Vive in our lab at school, so we can look into software development on two of the largest immersive virtual reality platforms.  VR has split into a couple of different camps.  You’ve got the cheap viewmaster style of VR like Google Cardboard that uses your smartphone to produce quick and easy 3d visual experiences.  At the other end of the spectrum you’ve got the fully immersive systems like our Vive, Oculus and Sony’s PlaystationVR.  These systems are still pretty expensive, but they work surprisingly well for first generation devices – I often have students come out of them as though they are waking up surprised to find themselves back at school.  VR, whether it’s a simple smartphone enabled device or the fully immersive kind, has a great deal of emotional impact.

How could VR be used in the motorcycle industry?  If you want to see a new bike in 3D to get a sense of what it looks like in the flesh, looking at it on a 2D monitor won’t do a good job.  Google cardboard and a smartphone are all you need to see in 3D.  If that isn’t a cheap and obvious tool for dealers looking to advertise motorcycles, I don’t know what is – Jaguar is already doing it.  I suspect you’re going to start seeing simple VR viewing kits included in smartphone packages in the future as the advertising power of immersive medium becomes more apparent.

The immersive simulation served up in VR has real emotional impact on customers looking to make a decision.  You wouldn’t be limited to a bike model either.  Taking a 360° video of a walk through of your showroom would allow customers to virtually see many bikes in 3d along with having a sales presence at their beck and call with no threat of pressure.  Virtually checking out a showroom before you make the trip over there is going to be a key sales hook in the future.

Virtually experiencing the factory where your favorite manufacturer produces your dream machine?  Can you imagine the brand loyalty generated?  VR is an intensely personal experience – your fans would feel like they had been on a VIP tour after that.  This kind of intimacy in marketing has a powerful effect.

Beyond the 3d imaging offered by basic VR, fully immersive systems offer a level of experiential training that is otherwise cost prohibitive.  The thousand dollar headsets might seem expensive, but last year at the Skills Canada National Competition I was talking to a company that makes tree harvesting systems for the forestry industry.  These mechanized systems cost hundreds of thousands of dollars.  Up until the past couple of years a new operator had to learn by sitting in the real deal.  When they broke blades or damaged robotic arms it cost big money in both equipment and lost harvesting time.  At last year’s Skills Competition they had one of their new VR training systems – an operator’s chair surrounded by an accurate recreation of the physical controls hooked up to a VR headset.  Suddenly you’re in a forest grabbing trees with a million dollar tool and learning how to best operate the machine.  They could simulate failures and varying conditions as well.  These $10,000 a seat systems saved millions in their first year of use.  New operators could spend many hours learning the system before ever setting foot in the real thing, and poor operators could be selected out before ever doing any damage.

Riders seldom get a chance to ride a bike before they buy them.  VR could change all that.  A system of wireless sensors could be attached to any motorcycle in the showroom.  With the bike wheel locked onto a simple pitch/yaw/roll mechanism, you could experience the ergonomics of your specific machine without ever turning over the engine.  Specs could then be loaded into the VR simulator and then you go for a ride, virtually.  You would get a personalized, immersive audio and visual experience while feeling how you fit on the machine without using any gas or depreciating any new model.  This kind of experience is very engaging.  I suspect the sales rate after such a VRride would be exceptional – it would also be a draw to get customers into the showroom.

Specialized simulators for racing are another obvious training tool.  Riding and racing schools, teams and other specialists could offer VR as a first, less expensive step into everything from working out the basic controls of the machine for a beginner to Jorge Lorenzo trying various lines around a track while experiencing suspension and engine setting changes before doing it in the flesh.

Even the first generation immersive VR systems we have now would be capable of offering this level of training.  They’ve only been out for a year or so (we ordered our Vive last April), but the possibilities around this emerging technology make my glad I have early adopter experience with it.  A couple of students dropped by the lab the other day wanting to try it out (it generates buzz even in students not taking computer tech).  After half an hour trying out Tiltbrush, Google Earth and our new Oculus handsets one of the girls took the headset off with stars in her eyes and said, “wow!  This is the future!”

In five years it is entirely possible that tens of thousands of people will have a much more intimate idea of what it feels like to be Valentino Rossi on a perfectly tuned Yamaha M1.  Pretty cool, eh?

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The Distinguished Gentleman’s Ride is something I’ve wanted to participate in for a while now, though I never seem to have ‘the right kind of bike’, which is frustrating.  Fortunately I can grow a bad moustache as well as anyone else, so I’ve Movembered multiple times.


The DGR started in 2012 and has become a world wide event collecting millions in donations focused on men’s health.  One of the main focuses of the Distinguished Gentleman’s Ride is suicide.  Men are much more likely to do it and the DGR is now finding ways to support men socially so that they don’t feel like this is a solution.  I’ve got family history with suicide and greatly appreciate the work this Australian charitable organization do around men’s health, and particularly their focus on suicide prevention.  You can submit an idea up until July 6th, 2020.

I’m three of those things, so being mindful of suicide is a wise approach.

As I was reading over this initiative I immediately thought of the various motorcycling cooperatives I’ve seen online where people get together and work on motorcycles, sharing tools and expertise.  The teacher in me likes the idea that this kind of mentoring could happen in a generational setting where both older men with knowledge and skills to share, could mentor new would-be riders who want to develop technical skills as they get into motorcycling.


Here’s the goal for this project:

DGR continues by saying:  We know that:

• The cultivation of healthy close relationships can increase individual resilience and act as a protective factor against suicide
• Friends and family can be a significant source of social, emotional and financial support, and can buffer against the impact of external stressors
• Traditional methods for engaging men about their health are often not effective and deter men from taking action for better health outcomes.
• Programs designed specifically by and for men and reach them where they naturally gather are more successful.

O U R   S O L U T I O N  –  A N   I N N O V A T I V E F U N D I N G   O P P O R T U N I T Y :

Movember and DGR are proud to challenge the creative and forward-thinking people of Australia, Canada, New Zealand, UK and the US to rethink the box and deliver innovative, concepts that lead to game-changing solutions targeting social connectedness, life satisfaction and mental wellbeing of motorcycle riders. For this initiative, we have prioritised middle-aged men who ride motorcycles and are dealing with key life challenges, and young riders in need of mentorship.

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