Legally kit is all about the helmet, but...
Intermittent electrical issues are never good. Adamsmallman’s on the case of just such a problem and mostly it is not going well…
‘The law is silent as to what is suitable on a bike’
When it comes to kit the law only requires you to wear a helmet and I admit to not being an ‘all the gear, all the time’ rider; having quit Facebook I do not miss the photos of skinned riders put up as wellintentioned warnings of the perils of not being fully clad in Kevlar.
The helmet is a given
The law is much less prescriptive than the safety conscious gore merchants of social media. The helmet is a given. The Highway Code recommends stout boots, gloves and suitable clothing. Suitable clothing covers a multitude of options and having been the lawyer for thousands of injured motorcyclists I have come to my own conclusions as to what safety gear is my minimum, and, perhaps influenced by my practice, it falls in line with the law.
After your helmet, your boots are your most important item of safety apparel. A 200kg bike landing on your foot, then pinning it as an abrasive layer next to tarmac is not going to be a fun experience, but a rigid soled motorcycle boot with armour in the ankle and good abrasion resistance means you will usually hobble away. The same experience in shoes is likely to result in a below the knee amputation. As the Highway Code recommendation is for stout boots, it might be ambitiously argued that failure to do so is contributory negligence but it would be a bold defence proposition. The law is silent on guidance as to what is suitable clothing on a motorcycle, but for me abrasion resistance, even at low speed, is essential. 30mph will destroy denim, but not Kevlar and the shock of being skinned can kill a healthy young human without breaking a bone.
The law also gives no guidance at all on armour. I have dealt with a fair few paralysis cases, and in most of them the paralysed rider was wearing a back protector. I do not draw the inference that a back protector is therefore of no use. Before back protectors became almost standard in midrange and upper range motorcycle gear, I dealt with a lot more paralysis. The mechanics of a back protector, or indeed any joint protector, are self-evident. If you can spread an impact over a larger surface area the energy is dissipated. I cannot recall having ridden without a back protector in the last 25 years.
It is obligatory in France to wear CE approved gloves, and in a low speed fall these can save your hands being skinned, but I am more relaxed about gloves than I am about boots. In my line of work, I see many more damaged feet than hands.
Commonsense
Helpfully the law and commonsense intersect on motorcycle safety apparel. If you are knocked from your bike, unless your helmet is off or unbuckled, the wrongdoing driver cannot point to any lack of exactly the right levels of armour or airbag protection in getting them off the hook. However, because hospital food tastes no better from the moral high ground my minimum riding kit is a solid pair of boots, Kevlar denim jeans with light knee and hip armour, a jacket with decent abrasion resistance and a back protector. If you want to ride in full race leathers or an armoured touring suit, you will never be criticised. Just please don’t put up pictures of skinned (usually American) lads on social media.
It can take ten minutes or ten hours.’ Max, a brilliant spannerhead at Bill Bunn’s Motorcycles at the end of my London street sums up the problem – and bottomless cost – of intermittent electrical woes on motorcycles. He forgot to add ten days and ten amps.
My immaculate, over-engineered and near-standard Honda CB1300 is about to take me and daughter to Belgium ahead of further lockdowns and curfews. On a London kerbside as we’re set to pull away a 10-amp fuse blows. Replacement fuses all blow and we do the 400 miles to the Tintin Museum outside Brussels without tail light, winkers or brake light. Rarely has mirror-hand-signal-manoeuvre been better honoured.
Waggling the perfect-looking bundles in the headlamp shell and wrapping some alarm-related naked wiring appears to fix the problem for the ride home, a good result given the dreadful storm we ride through near Ypres, where motorway visibility is cut to yards.
Weeks later we’re ready to leave for Rye, East Sussex and the fuse pops again. There follows a repeat performance of our nervy ride to Belgium but, this time, with no magicfingered ‘fix’.
Back in my workshop I rip out the alarm; alarms drain batteries and can be poorly installed and, sure enough, there’s bare wiring dangling about in the tail. Yet still the fuse continues to burn out.
I remove an alarm-related diode I’d missed, that’s plumbed into the flasher unit. The fuse goes again. I remove tank, bodywork and headlamp. Every hot wire on the circuit is connected perfectly, Mr Multimeter says. I despair. Then think. And go and look again.
Back to the start: this is a low-mileage Honda with great wiring. There’s unlikely to be a component breakdown. Which just leaves human error.
I go back over the loom, inch-by-inch, assisted by a bright LED torch. Which is when I spot it: harpooning the sheathed
cabling from the switchgear is the sharp end of a metal brake hose guide behind the headlamp. The previous owner had fitted braided hoses and trapped the wiring between the guide and the ignition switch. The front brake light switch wire was punctured and shorting when the brake was called into play.
Joy unbound, fuelled by the implied saving of many hours, days and £s.
‘This is a lowmileage Honda with great wiring. There’s unlikely to be a component breakdown. Which leaves human error’