Service Check Up

August 9^th, 2004

Three months and 4,000 miles later (not counting my 135 km in Spain), it was time for a service check up. I know that some of the hardcore riders are asking, "Why did it take so long?" And, some of the pleasure riders are asking, "Don't you have a life?" If I've got both ends of the spectrum asking "Why?" I must be average. The miles were actually pretty easy to pile up. About 1,000 came from riding around Virginia Beach and Norfolk, 2,000 came from day trips (groups and solo), and 1,000 came from my first weekend trip up to the Shenandoah region. I did have a couple of reasons for racking up miles pretty quickly. I had heard somewhere (most of my knowledge is hear say) that most motorcycle accidents happen in the first 2,500 miles. I just wanted to have the odds on my side. Of course the most important reason to pile up the miles is that my bike gets cheaper with each mile. For example, when I bought my bike it cost me $8,500 a mile. But, after 4,000 miles it only cost me $2.13 a mile. That's a savings of $8,497.87.

The least of my worries was the mechanical work on my bike. I knew the good folks at Honda of Norfolk would fix me up and get me back on the road (Thanks to Dave and Mike). I had no major problems with the bike and was still happy with my decision to buy the Sabre.

I decided that maybe it was a good idea to give myself a service check-up. I first reviewed my traffic record. I think I've been extremely lucky. I'm accident free with only four close calls. I had one "lane switcher" coast into my lane without looking; one vision impaired driver start to pull out in front of me (she stopped and I swerved); and one scared fawn crossed South Military Highway in front of an SUV in front of me. To be fair, the fourth close call I managed all on my lonesome. I was out riding early one morning and was coming around a nice gentle curve on a two-lane road out in the country. Thinking I was in the zone, I forgot to account for the morning dew on the road. It wasn't wet, just moist. As I approached the curve a little too fast and applied the rear brake, my rear tire lost traction with the road. While I didn't lay the bike down, I did end up on the opposite shoulder of the road thankful I didn't meet any oncoming traffic. Defensive driving apparently means looking out for yourself as well as other drivers.

Next I reviewed my riding skills. I know I'm more comfortable on the bike. I don't hang onto the handlebars as tightly (I'm sure my knuckles were white under my gloves for the first few hundred miles). Now I hold onto them without feeling like I'm doing isometric exercises. I'm not watching the speedometer to decide when to shift. I'm listening to the sound of the engine. Having my floorboards touch the road in a curve doesn't make me think I'm going to tip the bike over anymore. Overall, my riding skills have improved. I'm riding the bike instead of trying to fight the bike. If I had to rate myself, I'd give myself a solid C+. If the average is a C, I think I'm a little better than the average weekend rider (the low mileage variety). But I know that I have improved just enough start learning. This learning is not just about improved reaction times or skillful maneuvers; it's about being aware of the conditions (weather and traffic) and assessing my ability to handle them. I went to graduate school on identifying my riding limitations in Spain (see "Ride Along Costa Brava") and I know that I have plenty of room for improvement.

A key factor in my riding has been trying to ease back into riding without looking like I was a newbie. I can remember wishing my permanent license plate would arrive so I could take off those obvious temporary cardboard plates. Unfortunately, the cardboard plates weren't the only rookie indications. Stopped in a long line of traffic waiting to turn left, I decided I would pull out into the through lane and continue straight. After checking to make sure there was no traffic coming, I turned the handlebars and rolled back on the throttle. To my surprise, the bike began to buck like a mustang until it died (straddling the turn and straight lanes). Quickly making sure I had the gas on, I restarted the engine and rolled on the throttle again. Once again the bike bucked to a stand still. I finally realized that I had forgot to downshift and was trying to start in fifth gear. Sheepishly I downshifted, restarted the bike, and drove off with my head hung low like a dog that just got yelled at for eating off the kitchen table. At least it was hot and most of the cars had their windows rolled up, so I couldn't hear them laughing at me.

As bad as this was, they were strangers and no one knew who I was. I was not so fortunate on another occasion. On my first group ride, some guys from work (Mike, Ned, Danny, and Al) invited me along for a run up to Jamestown via the ferry. As we were heading north, we came to a little drawbridge that was opening up. The other riders were ahead of me (I was in the back so I could observe group riding). As we approached the opening bridge, the riders stopped, put their kickstands down, and we got off our bikes. You may have noticed the change in pronouns. To make it clear, THEY put THEIR kickstands down - WE got off OUR bikes. Yes, on my first group ride in front of people I knew, I managed to drop my bike in a group formation. I must admit that my fellow riders were quick to help right my bike and have been kind enough not to mention my "Humpy Dumpy" act since then (THANK YOU).

A side benefit from riding has been that I've lost weight. My wife would say that eating better and exercising would explain the weight lost. For me it's basic cause and effect. Cause - I started riding a motorcycle. Effect - I've lost 20 pounds since then. Women, who will ever understand how they think? Maybe by my next service check I will have regained my boyish figure.

Overall, I think I'll keep riding. Otherwise, what would I write about? By the way, if you happen to offer a strange biker a coke at a rest stop, make it a diet (just in case my wife is right).

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