Saturday, September 20, 2014

Riding, 10,000 Miles Later

After clocking over 10,000 miles in the saddle of my FZ6, I am still thoroughly in love with riding. I have not had many experiences in life that remain exciting after the break in period, so I'm psyched to see where this goes next...


You Meet the Most Interesting People on a Sportbike


I joined a riding group I found on Meetup last year. Honestly, my expectations of finding like minded friends that ride and share my sensibilities was low. It's a huge group. 650+ enthusiasts, and my distinctly liberal um, mindful er, unique attitude about the world in general places me somewhere on the outskirts. I have been surprised to find there all kinds of  folks  in the group and I have thoroughly enjoyed riding with them. Besides, once helmets are on, and you're off and riding, there isn't any question what we are here to do. At that point, it's just the ride, and we certainly have our love for that in common.


I'd be lying to say that I am not a competitive rider. Mainly the competition exists with myself. I just want to be the most skilled person I can be at this thing. This is for my enjoyment of the sport as much as for my own safety. However, I cannot deal with squidliness.


From Urban Dictionary: "Squid"

A young motorcyclist who overestimates his abilities, boasts of his riding skills when in reality he has none. Squid bikes are usually decorated with chrome and various anodized bits. Rear tyres are too wide for their own good, swingarm extended. Really slow in the corners, and sudden bursts of acceleration when a straight appears. Squids wear no protection, deeming themselves invincible. This fact compounds intself with the fact that they engage in 'extreem riding'--performing wheelies and stoppies in public areas. Squids wreck alot. Derived from 'squirly kid' 

You have all seen these guys. Riding overly loud, aggressive bikes in tank tops and flip-flops. No helmet. Revving at the lights to let everyone know they are boldly existing in your presence. It gives me great pleasure to say adios and drop a squid when the road starts winding. However, squids do two things well: pad the statistics for everyone else, and make highly entertaining YouTube videos. 

I have met some truly skilled riders through the group-the people you gravitate to when you want to learn a lot about bikes and who are willing to share their knowledge to help a new guy out. There are some members that have been riding for 50 years (!) or more who have raced, traveled incredible distances, and who have lived through periods of motorcycling "technology" that thankfully are history now. Their help is key when choosing the right tires, bleeding your brake lines, or figuring out the best way to clean your chain. The fast guys, I mean the really fast guys, the front of the "A group," are often in their late forties or early fifties. They've been around, and their focus is sharp. 


So much of sport riding is unnatural. Staying off the brakes, deep lean angles, keeping calm and simply staying on your line require training to overcome your body's instinct to resist. This is the part of motorcycling that is at once glorious and frustrating as hell. Having someone around that can say "yeah, that's a little freaky." is valuable enough.



My First Little Tour


I got some saddlebags and took off for a couple of days last month. All I can say now about touring is-I get it. I finally get it. I am now able to pardon those guys on big touring bikes. It's tough to avoid all the cliches here, but heading out on unexplored two-lane is so good. I have always liked to drive, and never mind taking on a long day behind the wheel of a car, so I guess this is a natural progression. Sure there are limitations to big miles-the comfort of the machine (about three hours before butt-burn sets in) and the weather. You're in it, for good or bad. But then, you can always stop and get a cup of coffee and chat up the locals, and that's a great thing in itself. There are so many riders out there that someone is bound to ask you about your bike and start recounting their own tales of cycles past. If you're on the road for three hours, take a break, and get back on for three, that's a solid day of riding. I am truly impressed with people that log 8 or 12 hours in the saddle. Never mind the Baja 1000 riders that tear-ass through the desert for 12, 16 or even 18 hours at a time. See Dust to Glory and racer Johnny Campbell if you want to take a look at a truly hardcore rider. 


Johnny Campbell, Baja 1000 Footage


New roads present new challenges as well. My little trip offered up a bit of mountain asphalt unlike I have had a chance to ride before or since. For that stretch of highway 191 (formerly hwy. 666), my style was forced to adapt, and I gained a new technique for the quiver (even though I almost puckered a hole in my drawers while learning it). Most of the riding I have done after this experience has seemed "easy" by comparison. Now I sit around and dream about new terrain.



Updating the Stable

As the footage from the link suggests, I am ready to get dirty. I never thought much on off-road motorcycles. In fact, I would say that I have taken issue with them over the years. I believed that riding in the dirt meant carrying all of your gear to some remote wilderness just to tear up the landscape with knobby rubber. This just seemed so at odds with my "quiet travel in the woods" thing I've had going for so long. Then I met some dirt riders that changed my opinion of all that. There is a seriously large group of conscious "adventure" motorcyclists that use their bikes to get out there further, and to see more than you ever could on foot or on a bicycle. Hell, it's even the fashionable, trendy new thing in the world of motorcycles. Almost every manufacturer now has some version of the adventure bike, or they have one in the works. 

I've had the good fortune to take a few track days on the FZ as well. Nothing can catapult your skills forward like riding at the track. You focus all of your technique, knowledge and physical strength on the singular goal of making that lap time just a bit smaller each time around. The result of this effort for even a few hours at the track is more confidence and control on the street... And a huge desire for more and better bike! As I found with every other sport-there's always a sharper tool for the toolbox. 

My problem is, I want the best, and I can't afford it. No way, no how. So I will wait patiently, save a few bills here and there, and wait for something good to pop up on the used market. 


The Fizzer

My Yamaha FZ6. I couldn't imagine starting on anything else. Lots of people buy a 600cc bike right out of the gate and blow it. They can be plenty intimidating-they have all the speed and power to get you into big trouble really quick. I chose to ride with absolute respect for the bike for about the first 1000 miles, and I think this was key to not eating guardrail during the learning stage. I took as much time as I needed to learn the brakes, the throttle (it's temperamental!), and most importantly the chassis and suspension. This bike, more than a pure-bred supersport requires careful turn-in and throttle control in corners to keep the chassis stable and maintain all the grip you can from the tires. A more expensive bike might not have taught me how this is done. I then took the Motorcycle Safety Foundation course (advanced), which should be a requirement for all riders IMHO.

All in though, she's a great machine. Comfortable on longer rides, a killer engine (derived from the Yamaha R6), and good looks beyond it's price-point. It is also great to know there exists a huge amount of support for this bike worldwide; they were bestsellers in Europe and Asia before they ever arrived in the states. Though you don't see them everyday on the road here, riders of the FZ line share in the common belief that this bike is something special among motorcycles: A bike that is at home chewing up the miles on tour, and sporty enough to keep a smile on your face at the track or slicing up the canyons.


What's next?

More of the same, please. Short rides, long rides, track days, touring. Good friends to share in the addiction. And maybe a new steed in the barn sometime soon?