Wheelie school
The Viagra of the motorbike world!
Little bit of background: I finally get the job at Fast Bikes. F*ck, I can’tt wheelie. That’s like being an accountant without being able to count. But feear not fellow floppers, as theere’s all kinds of ways you can master thhe art of back-wheel antics. Mainlyy, you can either try and teach yourself (there is a high risk of doom), or bbook yourself into one of the mmany wheelie schools around thhe country and learn from someone whow knows what they’re doing.
We decided to go with thet latter and headed along to Stuntt Asylum for a day in orderr to try and abolish this Achilles heelh for me, which has forever givven a shed; something which neeeds to be sorted as soon as possible. The fact is I’ve never had time to praactise getting the front wheel aloft for the fuun of it. I never did any motocross, minimmoto or just about anything that had an elemment of freedom; just jumped straight onto a Kawasaki Ninja 250 which you coulld barely even get up over the steep Mountaiin section at Cadwell Park. So I’m just going to go ahead and blame my dodggy racing background, as about 98%% of the riding I’ve ever done has bbeen on track going as fast as posssible. And in racing parlance, wheeliies during a race are up theree with introducing a fat minger tot your mates. You just don’t do itt.
COPPING A FEEL
Luckily, as Stunt Asylum is based down south I got to the airfield venue a bit earlier than Bruce, who was tagging along for the day, meaning I was able to bag a bit of tuition before he rocked up on his Blade (not that we’re competitive or anything). So after a quick cuppa and a chat with the main man Nick, we got started with his wheelie training using quads. Yep, those four wheeled thingies. I’d never actually riddeni one before in my life, so I wasn’t prepared for how twitchy it was when I clambered on board and wound the throttle back. Still, it behaved well enough if it wasn’t abused, as I soon learned. These specific quads come equipped with a wheelie bar at the rear (to stop you flipping them) and a modified gearbox, meaning they have two gears to offer that bit more oomph.
We got a detailed and helpful explanation from Nick that really opened my eyes to the whole concept, focusing on body position, throttle control and clutch application, I set off andd gave his guidance a craic instantly poping the front wheels up and bagging the desired results. After a few runs I felt confident on the quad, wwhich had a normal bike throtle and gave me chance to apppreciate the impact altering its position made. It felt great and as though sometthing had just switched on in my brain. Okay, I could pop a power wheelie on a bike prior to this, but never had I known an elementt of control, whereas now these antics were avaailable on demand. I gained a shed load of coonfidence and a hell of a lot of understanding. The huge smile on my face told Nick I was ready for the next challenge, which meant trading up to a bike.
VIOLENCE AND HEIGHT
So, coffee and sushi-ed up to the max (no, really) I got my bits together and headed out on the school’s Yamaha FSZ 600’s for a go at a proper wheelie. Nick was on hand again, filling both mine and Bruce’s brains with every little detail and tip imaginable; the most notable being how the controls were labelled: clutch was renamed violence, and throttle was to be known as height. In essence, those labels are so simple and make perfect sense, but they’d never occurred to me that way.
Nick told us that the harder and deeper you ping the clutch the quicker your bike will pop the front, while the amount of gas you give will determine how much height you get. Makes perfect sense, doesn’t it? With this etched in my mind and a few practice runs to get used to the standard Fazer, it was time to start popping the thing.
Having some specially adapted anti-flip devices fitted to our bikes gave me a feeling of invincibility, as though there was absolutely no danger in being a bit lose with the bike’s controls. The safety net offered also meant I could focus fully on the job in hand. So after getting used to the big old Yamahas we started to give it a proper go, and just like on the quads, lofting the front proved to be incredibly easy. I’ll be honest, using a clutch to pull a wheelie hasn’t really been my thing, depending more on power to hook the front wheel up, but this technique made a lot more sense and proved much more predictable. Before lunch time I’d banged in quite a few runs and was beginning to learn how to not just pop a wheelie, but how to hold one over distances. The biggest tip to help me out was the violence and height theory. As soon as you have the amount of clutch nailed, all you have to do is play with the throttle – adding a smidgen at a time gives that few inches more height, but with absolutely no more aggression.
PIECE BY PIECE
Over a well-earned lunch and a stunt demo by Nick, where he absolutely spanked the living daylights out of a modified R6 while we stuffed our faces, the morning’s offerings were really beginning to make sense. As with most things you do over and over, they eventually sink in and I was proper fired up to get back out there and take things to the next level. By that I mean that I wanted to pull higher and longer wheelies, which Nick enabled by raising the anti-flip restrictor to allow more freedom of altitude. Despite gaining another foot in lift, the wheelies actually felt more comfortable than they were previously, because I was less likely to have the restrictor device
kick-in and ruin my fun. It helped my head to gain even more confidence and I found it a doddle to keep the front wheel airborne for longer lengths. The trick was to be super smooth with my actions, meaning nothing was erratic.
I had complete control of what was going on, which also meant I could add in a bit of throttle to perk things up if things were getting a little, ah, floppy up front. Nick called it pulsing the throttle and that too needed to be a measured input; too much and you’d get too much lift which would likely cause you to panic and shut off. Too little meant the front would still come down anyhow, so there was a fine art to the action. I concentrated on this for the rest of my time and it became second nature come the end of the day.
NEXT LEVEL
But before Nick gave us the heave-ho, he had one more style to teach me; stand-ups. That’s where the money’s at, and although he usually kept stand-ups as a separate class to the one I’d signed up for, his faith in my progress meant that he was keen to take my wheelies to that next level.
In all honesty I was a little nervous for this one, and as much as I hate to admit it, Bruce had ’em nailed from the get go. With your left foot on the rear peg, right foot covering the brake and using the exact same technique as before, it was another foreign sensation but one that seemed to work, although I think it’s probably best you take advice from Bruce rather than me. I came, I saw, and I almost conquered.
But the question was how a day of wheelie school would translate to little old me and my very own steed; a Honda CB500. As it happened, I’d actually ridden over on my own bike, at Nick’s request, because he wanted me to transfer what I’d learned on the school’s bike to my own, pumpkin orange weapon – I know you’re jealous. So that’s what I did. Using the exact same principles and techniques I had the Honda lifting its nose in no time, although the nature of its single-cylinder engine meant I had to be harder on the throttle and more aggressive with the clutch to get the results I was after. Mission accomplished I’d say.
Reflecting on the school after my visit, it’s left me feeling absolutely stoked by the new-found skills I’ve bagged. Nick’s concise and digestible manner really made the learning process a doddle, and his non-judgemental approach meant I was never on edge or scared of looking a tit. He was a spot-on teacher and I’d highly recommend him to all of you out there. And I’d also like to add that if you’re keen to learn to wheelie, however young or old you are, it’s really worth investing in. If I had my way it’d be a directive in the CBT test, but unfortunately it’s not, which means people often never get to discover the delights of hooking up a minger. Believe me, it’s a great sensation and it’s one we should all be accustomed with. With that in mind, pick up the phone and give Nick a call. He’ll hook you up.
STAND-UPS MADE EASY
I couldn’t let Carl have all the fun, so I wangled myself along to bag a bit of tuition. And, excuses aside, I was in need of some guidance. I’m no novice at wheelies, but I’m of the ‘self-taught’ variety which means I have naff all technique and often have to just hope things work out when I drop the clutch and grab a fist full of throttle. It’s not always pretty, but most of the time I get away with it. Even still, I’ll admit to being absolutely pants at stand-ups… and I don’t just mean my jokes. They were to be the focus of my training, which kicked off along the same lines as Carl, learning the basics of clutch-up wheelies and progressing in altitude.
With Nick’s expert tuition and the perfect playground on tap, it wasn’t too long before I was being encouraged to get stuck in with my stand-ups. Like Carl with his sit downs, I essentially had to start them low, being restricted in height by the anti-flip device, until I’d become proficient with the defined height. Standing with my left foot on the pillion peg and my right foot covering the rear brake pedal, the disfigured riding style felt bizarrely natural and encouraged a planted feel when the front end started going skyward. As with the sit downs, the trick was to get to a certain figure in the rev range, using set out cones as markers to accelerate between, before slipping the clutch for a nano-second. The result of which would cause the front wheel to start lifting, and then it all came down to how greedy I was with the throttle. Too much gas and the restrictor device would be engaged, too little and the front would fall flat back to earth and show me up for the nobber that I was. It took me a few runs, but things soon started to take shape.
HIGH TIMES
In fact, it got a whole lot easier when Nick raised the restrictor and let me gain some height. It’d been tough to find a balance point with the front wheel skimming along at sea level, but up in the clouds things were much more to my liking. The process became predictable, smooth and a doddle to repeat. Without realising it, years of frustration were giving way to a new found talent that seemed as natural to me as heroin is to smack addicts. I could get it up and keep it up, which was sure to impress the girls on the high street.
But all the time I was gloating in my little bubble of jubilance, there was the niggling question of how transferable the skills were to my Blade SP which was lurking round the corner. There was only one way to find out, so I traded steeds, took in a few deep breaths and let it have it. Well, it let me have it, I should say. The speed and power difference between the two bikes was massive, made all the more challenging by a lack on pillion pegs on the Honda. Still, I stuck it out and things started to get better with time, to the extent that the length of our section of runway was becoming my limiting factor.
Throughout the whole debacle, Nick was on tap giving advice and that made a huge difference. It really wasn’t hard; all I had to do was follow his instructions and the bike did the rest. That had been the whole theme of the day for both Carl and I; to listen and do. And being the geeky students that we were, we both came away absolutely buzzing after our inauguration to wheelie schools. What an awesome experience.