Up Front

UP FRONT

Allan Girdler

WE FAVORED FEW

What triggered this incident. I think now, was how I looked at the time. I was on my way home from work, riding a large, quiet, new and shiny touring bike, fitted with a fairing. Because I had the fairing and it was a hot day, I was wearing my open face helmet.

How I looked was reasonable, sensible and approachable.

I was pacing along with the traffic when the horn of the van in the next lane began signalling. I looked over, the guy leaned out and said “Would you do me a favor?” “Uh, sure, I guess. What?”

“I’ve been trying to talk my wife into letting me have one of those. Tell her they’re safe.”

A bit much. I couldn’t do that, not in those exact words. Quick as lightning, I came up with the way to do the favor without actually lying.

“I’ve been riding for 25 years,” I shouted back, “and I haven’t fallen off once.” “They’re safe as the man who rides 'em, right?”

Now that, I can go along with.

“Right.”

“Thanks,” he said, and the van turned off onto a side street while I went on home, thinking “The best of luck to you, sir.”

I wish him luck because I don’t think he’s gonna make it.

Reason I bring this up is that we are seeing some remarkable changes in our sport. Motorcycles are being looked at in new and different ways. I have mentioned this before and I have some friends who tell me I am doing us all a disservice. You are going to encourage the wrong people, they say, and we will lose a lot of what we have.

I don’t see it.

What I will do is plead guilty to two out of three.

I am a preacher. I am a true believer. I spread the word.

That’s one. Second, do I enjoy the status of motorcycles in these troubled times?

Oh. goodness. do I ever. Like it? I revel in it. When I first started riding, a motorcycle parked in the driveway meant the neigh bors complained to your father. If a girl was willing to go riding, all the other questions were answered as well. Once she threw a leg over the back of a motorcycle. her reputation was ruined anyway. Now knock-out ladies race professionally and twinkly-eyed grandmothers ride Harleys around the U.S. and they both get on television. When I ride up to the gas pumps. there's a line because there are six pumps and room for only four cars. So I nip up to the vacant hose, pump in 200 miles of sporting transportation. give the man $4 and roll on. wearing the expression used by Scrooge McDuck when he dives into the piles of greenbacks in his vault.

Okay. I encourage people to ride motorcycles. I am tickled beyond words that all I have to do is say “60 miles to the gallon” to stop remarks about don’t I get wet in the rain and aren’t I afraid.

What we aren’t going to do is lose our sport or our lifestyle or our minority status.

That poor devil in the van has seen thousands of guys like me, out there in the open on this pure machine, speed and power and sensation, so one day he goes home and he tells his wife “I’ve been thinking about getting a motorcycle. I

could ride it to work and we’d save money on gas.”

What my clannish friends don’t suspect, in company with the people looking for a massive boom in sales, is that many hear the call but few have what it takes to follow through.

I am learning this at the cost of some disappointment. Several issues ago we did a story on beginners and their machines. We did it because a flock of people had asked us, that is, the magazine staff, to let them in on our fun.

Which we did, with pleasure. We had car guys, truck guys, clerks, designers, secretaries, librarians, accountants and even top executives from headquarters. Everybody had a fine time.

But it didn’t take. Well, it took by a factor of maybe 10 percent. If you picked a random sample of 100 people, you'd get 10 who’d like to learn to ride. And if you teach those 10. you’ll get one who comes around every Friday afternoon and asks if any of the test fleet needs some exercise over the weekend.

On reflection, I should have seen this coming. A friend of mine bought a dualpurpose 250 just about the time I bought mine. We used to go out in the mountains most weekends and we had a good time and bit by bit. he didn’t have time to go. Then he used the bike for errands and one day he mentioned that he didn't do that any more.

Too much trouble, he said. Right. Riding motorcycles takes effort. You gotta find your helmet and gloves and jacket and go out there and start the machine and ride to the store and stow the helmet or lug it and the groceries and get all suited up to ride home and then put everything away. He found it much easier, as time went on. to just climb into the car. turn on the engine and turn off everything but his fingertips. Oh yes, when he got his motorcycle the gas prices were a good reason. But somehow, when he discovered he didn’t have the energy, lacked the desire to make the effort.: vhv. the ease and comfort of the car were worth the money.

So it's been with our students. When her car was in the shop. one of the ladies was ready to whip out the ol' down payment that very day. The car came hack. she hasn~t called since. The gu~ who actually bought a bike rode it to work, then he rode it to work on nice days. then he sold it. He's a hit embarrassed about it. Shrugs and s~tys. well, it was fun hut he had othe~ things to do with the money.

Back to the man in the van. He saw me. actually all us riders, under perfect condi lions and he was encoura~ed to tell me what as on his mind.

Mv guess is. his wife will never like the idea and he wont find it worth his while iw o against her. Not because he's afraid, hut because she gives him the excuse to not do what he isn't reads' to do. not deep down inside.

ext step. I wish that guy could have seen me tonight. Cold and dark. I rode home all bundled up in padded suit an~ heavy sweater, hoots and gloves and scarf. Riding across the city the light went yellow. There was an 18-wheeler I had just passed. I checked the righthand mirror. decided he wa~ clear and braked, the truck went blasting through the red, missing me half a lane.

Out Ofl the highway the wind was up. Tumbleweeds came over the fence, debris `~~as whipping hack and forth, something cartwheeled out of the black, bounced ofl my left boot and disappeared beneath the rear wheel. The wind was jinking the hike around, the tires were squirming on the rain grooves, the lanes on the left were cutting right, the righthand crowd Was cutting left and there I was in the middle this sea of heavy metal. No Apache scout ever read sign with more concentration than I had focused on what was going on around me.

Scared, no. Alive. challenged. alert.~ happy to he out there in control. yes.

To watch a motorcycle gliding throug~ the sunlight is to watch a movie about white-water canoeing. To ride a motorcy cle is to he in that canoe, armed with a flimsy paddle. The rocks are real, the water is wet and if you don't know what you'r~ doing. aren't willing to make that effort. expend that energ\. you aren't going t~ enJoy what motorcycling is really all about and it isn't about saving money on gas.

So. Some of the people who'd like to ride will go no further than that.

Some will take the first steps. and will draw back or drop out.

The rest will ride and learn and test the~ limits. By that testing the~ will expand their limits and the\ 11 know that motor vcles are as niuch lun as they thought.

They will be like us.

I move we welcome them to the club.~