Motorcycle Diaries

Today was my first real day out with my motorcycle.

I've wanted to get a bike since my first summer in Vermont. I wanted my Class M more than a year before I earned my Class D. I'd go on rides with Dan and Brian after pick-up games on Saturdays. I talked about motorcycles with Omar. I envied Riad's Ninja, and later, his Ducati. When I was working on my thesis, I promised myself that the first things I would buy after starting work would be a guitar and a motorcycle. It was a promise I could only keep in the fullness of time. I bought a guitar from a good friend on a rainy day in winter. In June, M. and I went and took the Ironstone Ventures MSF course out at Bunker Hill.

I started looking at bikes to buy, and in the fullness of time, I found my Suzuki GS500 on Craigslist. I'm rather inexperienced and nervous when it comes to motorcycles, but I love them so, and now we're off to a good start. My bike is inspected. It runs. It's easy to maintain. It's parked in my back yard. If I don't die riding it, I have an idea of what I'd like to upgrade to. I know the gear I want (some of which is finally on order). I have no idea where to ride, but I do have other friends that ride. I'm good at riding. I enjoy the gyroscopic procession of counter-steering. I like feeling how the engine shifts. I'm looking forward to being technically proficient enough to justify getting a nice piece of equipment some time down the road. Of course, I feel like an ass, like an etiquette-free coat-tail riding poser, whenever I talk to more experienced riders. I think a good part of the riding scene is kind of like highschool, and I'm the girl who got her bike at Salvation Army. But most people seem to ride because they enjoy riding, and not because they're in it for the attention. So, as long as I'm not actively making an ass of myself, I can't really go wrong.

So, this week I finally started putting miles on my bike. I've just been riding around Cambridge and Somerville, at night, when there's not a lot of traffic. I've practiced shifting, mostly. And keeping my eyes up off of the road surface. The clutch is too tight. A friend gave me instructions on adjusting the clutch cable, and the mechanism seems straightforward. It's a week of starts and stops, though. I was riding around on Thursday night when I managed to drop my bike from a dead stop. I'd pulled over to the side of the road in Boston's financial district (a crowned road) and, whups, the bike was on its side and two dudes were running over to help me pick it up. They wouldn't let me pick it up on my own, and the fall broke my brake lever. However, I'm sure I'll drop the bike again, so I'll have more opportunities to practice picking it up, and now I have something to replace.

Today was a week in the planning, and the weather was glorious. L. met me at my place, I spent some time adjusting my mirrors, he ran through the plan and we and fueled up. I discovered that my bike has a safety feature against starting up in 1st with the kickstand down. We took Rt. 2 out to Allston, to the MotoMarket for some highway practice and to look at gear. As is by now traditional, they don't have the pants I want in my size. Last time, Rev'itt wasn't even shipping the make I wanted, so at least my luck is improving. Then it was down Rt. 27 to BikeWorx, which is rumored to be home to the only reputable mechanic in the Greater Boston Area. The good man there listened to my bike idle, pointed out what some of the different noises were, and enlightened me as to how terrible fuel additives are for one's fuel system. It was good to chat with him, and it was relieving to have more of an explanation than, "You don't need to worry about it." I am now comfortable not worrying about the noise my engine makes. L. and I geeked about various other things. I picked up a replacement brake lever, new bar sliders, chain cleaner and some lunch. We then took Rt. 62 through to Rt. 2-A.

Near the junction, L. and I got stuck behind a station wagon for a few blocks. There was a little blond girl, maybe four years old, in the back seat, grinning at us. She waved. I waved back. She giggled. She looked back over the seat. I threw up the horns. And she then proceeded to throw the horns back to us and wave furiously out the car window. I can only imagine what her parents thought.

I laughed so hard I nearly dumped the clutch.

We stayed on 2-A through Lincoln and Lexington. This was neat because I've been driven through those areas, but never really retained much of the local geography. That part of 2-A is also rather pretty, and police-infested. We ignored the signs warning of construction and advising us to seek an alternate route, and ended up having to ride over two sections that had no pavement. Some jerk in the world's ugliest Subaru tailgated us through the second rough patch, which seems bizarre given the road conditions. Eventually, we caught up with two other random motorists (who had taken the detour we had spurned) and sped through all the twisty bits at the end of 2-A, only to hit dead-end traffic on Mystic Valley Rd.

It was dark by the time I got home, so I didn't adjust my clutch cable. Nor did I clean my chain, or install my new brake lever. But my accumulated mileage is now something like 120-150 miles. It's a start.