Biker - what does it mean?

The night is there, inviting and mysterious.

I head out to the parking lot, unchain my old Honda VF 750 and get it started in a moment. Warming the enging a little before driving off, I drive slowly to the main gate, where I enter the big road. I have no special plan or route to take, I simply drive. The traffic is not heavy tonight and the air is fresh after a short rainshower earlier on. I stop at a gas station, the Exxon sign glowing overhead in a swarm of fireflies. I get what I want from the shop and am driving once again. Hoards of small bikes, 100cc to 150cc crowd the streets, some against the direction of the traffic, close to the kerb. Several of them drive incredibly fast for such small bikes, their drivers perhaps wanting to prove themselves against the "big" bike. Well, the 750 may have been big at one time but it is only medium size now, with bikes around 2000 cc not that rare. I am in no hurry, but glad that I am driving this bike and not one of the small ones. The old Honda has good power, and the sound is sweet music in my ears. Different from the little bikes with their high-pitched whining sound.

I am in my fifties now but there is something new to learn about motorcycles every day. Technical issues, and even something more about driving and how to foresee traffic issues and reckless drivers, staying in control with enough space ahead so that you can stop when you need to without hassle. I don't need to show off, me and my old bike, we have an understanding. I appreciate this bike's unique characteristics, I know what I can expect from it. I can never look at a motorcycle as simply wheels, engine, frame and all the other stuff that make up a bike. The bike is alive somehow, just as I am alive. The two of us make a whole, something that goes together wherever that may ve, something that belongs. This sense of belonging is strong and different every day. But nighttime is my favorite time. It is somehow the right time for me.

Forty years ago, I was a teenager on a 50cc Honda. That bike did not go faster than about 50 miles and hour or so. I drove this for a year, then got a Suzuki enduro bike, a TS400 single cylinder thing. That bike had real torque, it raced up steep slopes of sand and gravel as nothing. I would not repeat the driving of those days now, no way. Then, there were gaps in my association with motorcycles. I owned a few bikes but nothing serious until I got the V45. I had always wanted a V4 Honda, and one day it simply came my way. From then on, I have been busy with maintenance and renewal. This has led to to strange places, and to meet many people. The search for parts and repairs was neither straight nor easy. But I learnt one thing, don't be impatient. If you look hard enough and long enough, you will see ways to solve the problems.

I have followed with the bike discussion on the internet for some years. It seems to me that there are those people who want to own brand new bikes, all shiny and pretty. They won't even hold on to those bikes for very long, after perhaps 10k miles or whatever they sell the bike and get a new one. I don't belong to that category at all. Motorcycles to me are a way of returning to the past, to the old days. I am not a feel, I know the past will not repeat itself. But it is there because I remember it. I don't feel old but I don't kid myself, I am not a youngster
any more, I am a grandfather to be sure. But it is better to be a grandfather on a bike than in the boring safety of a car. Four wheels do little for me. It's the freedom of the surging wind and the closeness to outside that is the thing. Also, knowing that you yourself repaired something or had it done, then watched out for any signs of malfunction as you drive. This is real contact between man and machine, it makes every part of your bike personal and meaningful to you.

I belong to that generation of bikers that had to go to great lengths sometimes to keep their machines running. In the old days, before the internet, before online credit-cards, and all that, things were, hmm, different. You looked up your spare parts in a catalog that the dealer had, and then he ordered whatever you wanted. This could take time, several weeks if the thing was sent from Japan. Then by the time you got what you wanted, something else might have broken down so you had to go through all that process again.

This taught me patience.

In those days bikers were a breed that to some extent stood together and supported one another. Still, they always believed their own bike was best and most classy. To some limit this was true of myself also, but I was never so restricted in my approach to biking that I only loved one brand or one kind of bike. What mattered was, you had a bike and you were one of the community. This was a part of yourself, and this was what you were known for - among other things.

To be a true biker is not so much about what kind of machine you happen to have. It is a lifestyle, it is an attitude. It is a certain stance, including a philosophy of how a man relates to a machine and how they shall become one - to abuse a well-known phrase. To me, this is what is important. After decades of riding there is still more to learn. About your bike and about yourself and how the two of you get along. For in the life of a biker the unexpected is always around the corner. But you have to take that corner in order to get there, and give the unexpected a chance.

 

Thank you for the thoughtful posts. Much to ponder . . .










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Well put together