Motorcycle “Safety” class.

It’s time for a little levity around here, my incredibly good friend said we need something more upbeat, funny even. So I will tell you of my experience in Motorcycle Safety School.  In the end what will this accomplish? Maybe a smile or a laugh, if I’m lucky. A better understanding of what it is like to be in motorcycle safety class for me, most certainly. And finally, the assurance that riding a motorcycle can cause you great harm and embarrassment if not done correctly!

I went on a small road trip with my father in 2000 to the International BMW Rally. This little get together was a couple of hours away from where I lived at the time. He picked me up on his big BMW cruiser, we took off. About an hour into the ride we stoped for a break and he asked me what I thought. After ripping my earring out, as it was attached to the padding in the helmet, I told him I loved it! And this was true, aside from the searing pain of torn flesh in my ear, this was true. I knew then, in no uncertain terms, I had to learn how to do this! We had a great time at the rally and it further confirmed for me that a biker I must be. (The rhyme is unintentional, sometimes I just can’t help it.)

The following week found me in a Motorcycle Safety Class at the local community college. I was excited and scared. Scared of failing, scared of getting hurt, scared I couldn’t do it yadda, yadda, yadda. Excited because the instructors assured us we were going to learn how to drive these things as long as we applied ourselves and paid attention to them. This was true, I did pass! Did I do it gracefully? NO! Did I do it without making an ass out of myself? Hell no! But I did it and I passed.

Let me preface the class experience with this little note: I am NOT a morning person. I have never been a morning person and my mother and sisters will confirm this! So will any and all persons I have dated and my wife who will tell you shamelessly; that if it weren’t for her in the morning I might not ever make it out of the house with anything I need for the day! Ever.

I was in the weekend class, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Friday was an evening in the classroom going over lots of bike stuff and learning about bike stuff. This was cool. Then the next day you arrive at 8:00am and our class was broken into two groups. I was in the morning group, this was not cool, because we hit the motorcycle range at 8:00am and were expected to be ready to ride.

Eight o’clock in the morning is a curse to me. It is what I would rather NOT come into contact with at all costs. I am a slow waker upper, this is not a joke. I don’t really wake up until around noon, and that is if I have been up since far too early in the morning for my taste. I don’t know why, I have been this way since I was in high school and remain so to this day. It takes me a good couple of hours to get with it for the day. I’m sleepy, I’m slower, I seem to be in quite a foul mood which really isn’t true; it’s just that I’m trying to rally “my faculties!”

So, eight in the morning we’re on the range. I drop the bike. Not just once but almost twice a day for certain until I am well awake. This was like the prerequisite for me to handle the rest of class for the day. Anyway, we had this hardcore Harley dude teaching us. He has to yell to be heard over the sound of umpty-nine bikes! This of course, makes me a little edgy, if you will. I HATE being yelled AT. It pisses me off. In this case, however, it just seemed to feed the perpetual sense of fear and terror that I was going to wipe out or fail. It was good times!

Now imagine you are a new person to recreational motor vehicles. You had NEVER even driven a snow mobile let alone a scooter or dirt bike. Your head is full of this fuzzy, haze and sluggishness only brought on by early mornings, and a lack of coping with anything before a half gallon of coffee; or several vats of carbonated beverage. Whichever lands in the hand first.

You are not a real BIG person, I weigh around a buck and a quarter, the bike weighs four hundred pounds, is older than dirt, and has its own distinct personality. After having been driven for years by inexperienced wanna be bikers! And let’s not forget to mention that it had been dropped more than perhaps anything I have encountered in my whole life. Bouncing balls being exceptions. I am really not sure who was more deserving of pity, me, or the bike itself. I opt for the bike.

Class = Daily bike dropping at 8:10 a.m. sharp by myself. To be followed up by straining to understand what the instructor is bellowing over the sound of 12 small engines, straining and whining and causing much noise. Followed by the certain wild eyed blink and head bob as bike drop number two occurs at approximately 8:25 a.m. again, by my person. This is followed by the instructor checking to make certain I am ok, and that I knew what I did to cause drop number two of the day. The answer to that was ALWAYS simple and direct. “I am out of bed, here with a motorcycle, and not enough consciousness to coordinate whatever it was that you barked at me while I was trying to manipulate the bike, and myself coherently.” Simple really.

Now, for those of you who are reading this and thinking, “Oh great, and they passed THIS person!” I am telling you now – you either pass or fail. There is no gray area. There is no “they” because “they” have to make sure you can handle your shit. You have to pass a driving test and a written test in order to pass this class. I surprisingly did better on the driving test than the written. There are exercises you have to do with the bike and if you fail them, you don’t get your endorsement, which means you don’t get your license. If you didn’t know – in Michigan, you don’t have to have a license. But if you have one and get pulled over you will be subject to less exorbitant fees than unlicensed drivers. And a lot fewer accidents interestingly enough.

SO I passed, I got my license, I got a bike and I am now the President of a motorcycle club eight years later. Different bike though. If this experience brought out a certain terror and near panic in your person, I have one suggestion. Don’t go to Motorcycle Safety School. However, if you were interested, entertained and are curious about learning how to drive a motorcycle – GO! If I can pass it… You know how that ends. -HBom www.msf-usa.org

 

~ by zoejones on June 3, 2008.