My first year on a motorcycle (1970)

After logging 8 000 km on his first bike, Popular Mechanics’ US auto editor reaches some conclusions.

RIDING THE INSIDE OF THE LANE, I banked into an underpass where the combination of the bright sunlight, my sunglasses, and the deep shadow underneath created a near blackout. I saw the outline of a gigantic pothole at the same time I went into it. No time to dodge or get up on the pegs. My small bike crunched into the hole, and all the air exploded out of my lungs. Dazed, but still upright, I eased over to the shoulder. The damage: two ruined rims and a cracked rear hub. The road surface had taken its toll, but I hadn’t spilled.

I had thought of becoming a motorcyclist at least once a year for the last dozen years, and never got around to it. But last year, something clicked. Having settled into my 30s, with a wife, two kids, even a dependent dog, I figured I was mature enough to ride and not have to prove anything.

Armed with $400 [$2 600 in 2019], I picked up a brand-new orange 100 cc Suzuki street scrambler. I’m a sucker for style, and the bike sure had that, with superb craftsmanship from stem to stern. I figured most of my riding would be on the street, and the 80to 90-km/h cruising speed would be okay for highways.

The scrambler design would also give me the option of the trail. A 12-month, 20 000-km warranty was a more rational base for my decision.

Since I had never given up bicycling, I didn’t have to learn the basic idea behind a two-wheeler. It was just a matter of establishing reflex actions for the controls: right foot, rear brake; right hand, front brake and throttle; left foot, gearshift; left hand, clutch. Applying this quickly becomes a habit. And the toe shift – usually all the way down for first gear, up to neutral, up again for second, third, and so on – is not as clumsy as it may sound.

My 55 km trip to Popular Mechanics’ headquarters takes no longer than the railroad, and considerably less time if you streak along illegally between lanes of traffic. But, in my book, this is an abuse of the freedom a motorcycle gives you.

In rain, it’s a matter of donning an inexpensive, lightweight, rubberisednylon storm suit, plus rubber stretch boots, all of which take but a small corner in a briefcase that rides on my luggage rack. I’ve ridden those 55 km in a downpour and stayed dry. In cold weather, a snowmobile suit and a pair of gauntlet mittens lengthen riding season by months.

After around 3 000 km, I was thinking about why it took me so long to discover motorcycling, not only as an inexpensive, exhilarating way to commute to and from the office, but as a great outdoor sport. Of course the dangers are real. But the joy and pure exhilaration of riding are reason enough to own a motorcycle.