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Discussion Starter · #1 ·
Spurred by Y-M's unfortunate little spill, I'm going to share my own experiences with road rash. As you will learn, I'm no saint and I've done mistakes and I've tried to blame others, but in the end it's up to me to make the difference.

I’m sitting here, trying to reflect back at over 25 years of motorcycle riding, thinking about what has gone right and what has gone wrong – and why. Truth is, I probably don’t know. But I can make reasonably educated guesses. I will lend out a WARNING, though, because this is probably only for the particularly interested. You do run the risk of learning something or becoming able to see your own actions fro a different perspective, but chances are you’ll just get really bored. Anyway, this is what I learned:

I started out with a minimum of practical training, although I must have shown a modicum of talent since I needed far fewer lessons than the norm for the day, despite no previous riding experience.

It take me long before I realised I needed to stay focused and concentrated, but it took me more than 11 years of riding practice before it began to stick automatically. And I must admit that I still let my awareness falter once in a while, but experience and luck usually mean nothing bad comes out of it.

In the beginning, I often had trouble keeping my distance as well as observing when the vehicle in front stopped. Failing to keep my eyes on the road ahead is still a bad habit with me, evidenced by my two panic stops just from that in just over a year.

One benefit of all these emergency stops, as well as frequent practice of maximum braking, is that I quickly became good a getting my motorcycles stopped. However, I do this best when the brakes demand a lot of effort before they lock up; I tend to overreact with one or two-finger brakes.

Before I start to discuss my various accidents, let it be known that it was in my power to avoid each and every one of them. Some I definitely should have avoided, some are the results of calculated risks. In my opinion, you have to accept some level of risk in order to enjoy life. Hence I consider a few of my ‘mishaps’ as unavoidable, although they probably are a result of poor judgement and not enough skill.

My first fall at speed happened on ice, riding my new Honda CB100. I should have known, but I took that corner as if it was merely wet. I didn’t get hurt, but the bike received a few scratches and dents. It was a silly fall because I was used to riding on icy and snowy roads – I just got a little careless.

Then nothing happened for a year and a half, when I had recently gotten my first proper motorcycle, a Honda CX500. There had been warnings aplenty. The front brake was weak as hell because I had opted to buy some cheap and useless brake pads since the OEM parts were enormously costly. And I was often riding over my own limits as well as that of the bike, several times wobbling out of room and road.

Somehow I managed to keep the thing upright long enough that my actions on the road began to calm down, although not enough. There was this blind corner near home I used to take at 110 kph/70mph or more, although the listed speed was just over half that. With proper brakes and full attention, I probably could have stopped if I had done no more than 70 kph/40 mph. Instead, I came to a dead stop, head first into a tractor with trailer at an estimated 80 kph/50 mph. Or more. Against all odds, I survived with multiple broken bones, a ruptured spleen (that was only discovered 9 years later), a neck out of shape and some muscle damage. And I learned about zip from the experience. At a quarter to 3, I was certain I was going to die. Six hours later I was thinking about what to buy next. Heck, I was even out of hospital the very same evening, although I had to go back a week later to bolt up a broken wrist.

It would be nearly a year before I got another bike, though, mostly due to a lack of funding. A loan helped me to buy a brand new XJ750 Seca. I had this particular corner on my way to work that I loved, and it wasn’t long until I started to up the pace a tiny amount every morning. Until I found the limit one day, when the rear wheel let go. By then I was already scraping the pegs, both stands and the full length of the muffler. My natural reaction was to chop the throttle in order to slow a bit before continuing on my way, although the shaft drive instantly pulled the wheel clean off the tarmac and I was down. I hit a lamppost and turned my femur into mostly crumbles.

This happened only weeks after I had removed the plate and screws from the tractor incident, and together with all the stories from the nurses and doctors I suffered my only hesitation as to whether I should ride again or not. It only lasted until the next morning – I spent day one more or less in coma due to the required operation – when I asked for a motorcycle magazine to be brought to me.

Did I learn something? Yes. I learned that I was too ham-fisted to operate a traditional shaft-driven motorcycle. I tried to trade it in for a VF500F, but was offered ridiculous money and opted out of it. Instead, I managed to fall off again before my leg had healed and decided to sell the thing. By then, it had less than 2000 km/1200 miles on the odometer.

My next bike was a much abused Honda 350 Four, and I had an excellent time with it, riding it through Europe and lots around the area. I can ‘only’ recall four close calls with it: Once when the rear tyre stepped way out at 110 kph/70 mph going absolutely straight as it hit a crowned bit of freshly laid asphalt patch in the wet; once as I tested how far I could lean before the tyres let go; once when I went silly fast through an intersection covered in an oil slick, carrying a passenger who held his freshly bored RD cylinders in his hands; and finally one seriously mad and desperate passing attempt that nearly had a big truck wearing my brother and I as a hood ornaments. Although I shrugged of the first three, the last incident really got my attention.

After the little Honda, I moved on to a Suzuki GS550E. Despite riding the wheels off that thing and regularly scraping stands and exhausts and even the alternator engine cover, I honestly cannot recall having any close calls with it. There were a few times when I willingly used full throttle in low gear with everything decked just to test the limit of the tyres (yes, of course the rear stepped out), but it was all in good fun and nothing dramatic. I guess the most valuable lesson learned with that machine was that you can ride pretty hard and have lots of fun on a slow and forgiving bike with low limits.

I have no answer to why I never crashed the Honda CB1100F that followed. Although I only rode it 3000 km/2000 mi, I rode like a lunatic from the first go. Actually, I never took to the road without seeing at least 200 kph/125 mph on the surprisingly accurate speedometer. I frankly don’t recall more than two really close calls and a few times when the rear spun out, but I do remember tons of potentially lethal situations where luck prevailed. It didn’t take long before I realised I had to sell it, but it wasn’t until I nearly had two very nasty accidents within a couple of hundred yards.

First, I cruised ‘gently’ (because that’s what it felt like) through a blind, long right-hand corner at 170 kph/105 mph only to me met with a sharp left-hander with no room to stop. Just before the inevitable crash I spotted an escape road, invisible until I got really close. Once turned and back on the main road, I went through a left-hander doing around 95 kph/60 mph with absolutely everything decked when my brain for whatever reason demanded full throttle. In second gear! It became the high-side of my life as the rear first swung around, then caught traction as I chopped the throttle and rebounded with enough force to throw me into a handstand. Somehow, I managed to cling to the bars and saved myself a trip into orbit, and as luck would be the weaving and wobbling bike was right underneath me as I came plunging down. Stupidly enough, this also failed to slow me down, but at least I had the presence to ride it home and park it, then putting it up for sale.

The short time with my fast and amazingly stable 1100 taught me one thing; I could not own a fast and good-handling motorcycle. Quite frankly, my behaviour on it was immature and a danger not only to me, but to everybody in my vicinity.

Next bike up was a Suzuki GSX400 Four, a slow piece of ***** that had been heavily abused and was in dire need of my tender love and care. Not long after I got it road-worthy, I suffered a puncture on he rear wheel. The tyre that it came with was new, but the tube looked like it was made during WW1 when we removed it. It was so dry-rotted, the valve stem simply blew off. My brother was riding passenger at the time, and I still don’t understand how we managed to save the uncontrolled ride and come to a safe stop. But only after going full lock-to-lock three times, that is 3 times to each side. That incident made me suspicious against tube-type tyres as well as the work done by previous owners.

Not long after, I managed to ride off the road due to lack of concentration and too much speed. That is, the corner would tolerate more speed, but only if the rider paid attention. I really suffered in that accident, smashing my rib-cage and my abdomen as well as bleeding heavily internally. I’ve never been in so much pain before or after, and I was certain I was going to die. Again. Somehow, I managed to survive a crash that saw me land from great height into a pile of big rocks. Speed on impact was around 110 kph/70 mph. The shunt was my heaviest to date, and the Dainese back protector is probably responsible for me being able to walk today.

This accident really got my attention and I completely changed the way I rode and drove and looked upon myself. I noticed that I was a constant danger whenever I entered traffic, regardless of vehicle. I noticed that I had tons of near-misses every day, especially in my car. Not that anything happened, only that it was down to luck and not me being in control over the situations. I started to slow down, think ahead, and concentrate on reading the full picture. It was no doubt a very important lesson to be taught and very likely a life-saver. Not just my life; I shudder to think how many people I could have killed by my reckless behaviour.

After I rebuilt the bike and sold it on to a friend – the bike is still going fine 15 years on, believe it or not – I was short on cash and hungry to ride. I ended up with a well-worn Honda CB250N, a bike that was in many ways quite fun. It was incredibly slow, but that made it even more fun keeping up with much faster company in the mountains. This could only be done by overriding the cornering clearance and poor grip of the old and cracked Avons, and I had a tremendous amount of slides on that thing. Still, I always managed to save it with a stout kick from the inside leg, forcing the bike upright on its wheels again before it washed out underneath me. Besides, this occurred at such low speeds, there wasn’t much risk of serious injury should I have lost control and gone down.

Still strapped for funds, I managed to sell the 250 with a decent value increase and bought a wreck of a Yamaha XS500 that I rebuilt. Had lots of fun on it, and it had a similar chassis feel to that of the GS550. The only times I can recall being at risk was when I willingly forced it beyond its limits, typically around slow hairpins. And the two times I ignored warning of 180-degree bends inside tunnels. They weren’t lying or exaggerating. Signs that I was back to my silly foibles of earlier days. A few hours later, I crashed again, this time when I hit a nigh on invisible frost heave while braking hard into a corner and not paying attention (I was watching the scenery). The fork bottomed and sent the front end up into the air, the wheel locked and once back on pavement it slid 40 cm before washing out. I got trapped under the bike and broke my foot in three places.

This is a thing that can happen again. If I’m going to expect huge bumps and dips at all times, I cannot enjoy my surroundings. So it’s a risk I’m willing to take. At first, I believed it could have been saved by ABS, but going through it again I’m not so sure. I was leaned over and I don’t think many ABS systems react quickly enough to release the wheel in such a short time and distance. What would have saved it, most likely, is a long-travel front suspension that could soak up the bump and keep the wheel against the pavement.

My next motorcycle was a Suzuki GS650GL cruiser, and it was dangerous! Even after attempting to stiffen the front end and fit a more sporting front tyre, I constantly locked the front wheel and overshot turns. The fork bottomed too easily and the wheel became almost impossible to control. I also fitted longer, stiffer KONI shock absorbers, which helped a little and increased the meagre cornering clearance to something less treacherous, but it was still a wobbly pile of turd. I was glad to see it go, although it was a pretty motorcycle. And it learned me that there is such a thing as too little chassis, even when you try to slow down.

I then got hold of an import, a Honda VT500FT. Every test I had read about it suggested good handling and virtually limitless cornering clearance. Well, before I got it home I was already scraping the pegs – and the road was damp! After a while, I fitted longer and stiffer progressive fork springs and KONI shock absorbers meant for the VF1100C; much longer and stiffer. This is the only bike I have ever had or ridden where I managed to get marks from the road on the tyre sidewalls! There wasn’t much motor and the brakes demanded lots of effort, just the way I like it, and I felt totally at ease with it. I did hit a couple of switchbacks too fast when being overconfident, but I cannot say I was pushing the limits very often. When I did, it was again around slow corners where a fall rarely turns out really bad.

I finally did fall off, at very low speeds, when I locked the front wheel as I tried to avoid a bicyclist who suddenly appeared where he had no right to be. The road was wet and slick – it was a roundabout – and I had my kid in front of me who was holding the grips, leaving me only just enough room for my thumbs and index fingers. With a proper grip, I could have held it upright – and probably also prevented locking the wheel in the first place. It was a silly mistake that began when I broke my own rule and allowed the kid to come along when the roads were wet. At least he had full leathers, helmet, gloves and boots and walked away unhurt. This accident could probably have been avoided with ABS, but a simpler solution would have been to keep the passenger where he belongs; on the pillion. At least I learned that I still wasn’t careful enough.

I then moved on to a Kawasaki Z1300 DFI, and if I had kept it, it would have brought me into trouble. The chassis was utter *****, yet I was often hitting 200 kph/125 mph while still being bored by the lack of performance. The bike felt lazy and slow, yet there is no doubt it was rather quick what with its 130 ponies. It was quickly sold and replaced with a Honda XL500S, a fun bike that was in a lousy condition and hence little used.

Instead I bought a brand new Kawasaki VN800A Vulcan, and discovered new sides of motorcycle riding that so far had eluded me. Suddenly it was fun to just cruise the highways and look around. And it became fun to meet the unexpected behind blind corners; instead of lucky escapes I now had everything under control. It wasn’t until I tried to ride it like a proper motorcycle that things could get a bit wicked, but even so the worst thing that ever happened was the undercarriage hitting down hard enough once to lift the bike out of its trajectory and into the oncoming lane. Luckily, there was no traffic coming the other way. And once more I was reminded that there is such a thing as too little chassis.

Since my brother and a friend both bought 900 sportbikes, it became blatantly clear that the Vulcan had to go for something with more performance. A Suzuki GSX600F Katana came into the household, and it was so much nicer to ride than the Vulcan that you cannot compare them in any way. The first problem was the Dunlop D205 radials, which was downright lethal on certain types of worn tarmac, offering precariously little grip. Just getting the ting stopped and turned sometimes became a fight on life and death, and I quickly replaced them with more predictable rubber.

Although I didn’t actually suffer any accidents or near-accidents, I was riding over my head way too often and only luck came between me and a potential fatal mishap on several occasions. The final waning came when I went through a corner at a good clip with the front tyre walking towards the outside and the rear tyre spinning and sliding, yet all I could think was that I could sure use more grip and more power because I’d like to go faster. So I rode it home and put it up for sale.

Then followed an old and virtually dead Z400 twin that I resurrected, a bike originally meant for our oldest son to ride. When he never managed to get around to getting his licence upgrade, and since I was now effectively without a bike, I decided to use it myself. I cannot recall any really dramatic incidents with this machine, although I’m fully aware that I have gone too fast through several blind corners, just as I probably have with every bike I’ve owned save perhaps the Vulcan. But with very little power and only so-so chassis, there really aren’t a lot of opportunities to ride over the limit.

Finally, we have reached the final bike so far of my selection, the Triumph 900 Sprint. What a bike! It made speeds that had the Katana crying for mercy a real walk in the park. The tyres had more grip, the steering was lighter, the suspension superior and the seating position excellent. And in only slightly more than 2000 km/1300 mi, I had four nasty near-misses and one brutal accident that could easily have turned out fatal if it wasn’t for my physique and riding gear. I cannot rule out that there is someone or something out there wanting to keep me alive, either, although that is highly unlikely.

The bike was so competent, it lured me into riding much faster than I could actually master, all the time making me feel like I was in control. This is only the third bike I have owned in over 26 years of riding that had both a good chassis and a respectable amount of power. And in every instance, it was clear that I’m neither good enough nor well-behaved enough to warrant owning such a thing. Nor is it necessary for me to have this kind of performance in order to have pleasure while riding; it certainly cannot make up for the increased risk I run.

So what am I left with? Basically, a simple and fairly slow motorcycle, with respectable but not excellent handling, one with good suspension to cope with our bumpy backroads and brakes weak enough for me not to overpower them in a stressed situation.

Sounds like a dual purpose machine to me. Only downside; most are hideous. I can live with that. Literally. I hope…
 

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We must come from different ends of the spectrum. I've been riding 24 years and only fallen off 3 times on the road with nothing more than a few bruises.
Anyway, I'm glad you're still with us and not giving up. I'd like to think I would show the same resolve in similar circumstances.

Do you think you may be related to Barry Sheene?

Cheers, Big Mick. :-D
 

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Discussion Starter · #3 ·
Barry Sheene either couldn't feel pain, or he was one of the toughest men ever to race. After the Silverstone accident, where he crushed both legs after landing on his feet after a 270 kph crash - Dr. Costa said he was lucky to keep his legs as it was difficult to repair cracked 'eggshells' - Sheene was told he could leave the hospital once he could bend his knees 90 degrees. That would, they reckoned, take from 3 to 6 months. 6 weeks later, he pulled his knees up to his chin! And about 10 weeks after the accident, he made a lap of honour at some track, riding his 500 GP bike. He was still too weak to shift gears, so some fellow racer rode pillion to operate the gearbox.

I'm flattered by the comparison, but I really don't compare.
 

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You don't want to hear this faffi but...

Whilst I admire your frankness and honesty, you are not cut out for motorcycling. Give it up before it kills you.

I'm not trying to slag you off here, I just don't want to hear about another dead biker.

Andrew
 

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Discussion Starter · #5 ·
SpitfireTriple, you're probably absolutely correct. But I'm having too much fun riding and giving it up is the last thing I'm going to do as long as I can manage to climb a saddle :razz:
 

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Life;
Short and happy
Long and miserable

You could give up bikes and end up dieing on the toilet, I know which I'd choose and it ain't the one with my underwear around my ankles :)

If you love it, keep riding.
Cheers Then :chug:
 

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Wow, quite a story. You do constantly ride out of your depth. You might kill someone on your way out. Take some lessons to improve your skill; take some life lessons to stop riding like a dork, or just keep off the road on your bikes and in your car. Guys like you give the rest of us a bad name.
 

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faffi,
If I didn't know better, I would think you were putting us on.

Have you ever considered skydiving?

If you can, why not take several classes regarding riding?

If you can't, why not just slow down?

Instead of making a goal of riding the tar out of the machine, make your number one goal getting home and not having to do maintenance on the bike before the next ride.

It is safe to say that you are well aware of your limits and that of the machine- you simply chose to ignore them. Remember, you can't change the laws of physics.

Godspeed,
Zip
 

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Discussion Starter · #9 ·
On 2006-11-20 11:04, TBirdVI wrote:
Wow, quite a story. You do constantly ride out of your depth. You might kill someone on your way out. Take some lessons to improve your skill; take some life lessons to stop riding like a dork, or just keep off the road on your bikes and in your car. Guys like you give the rest of us a bad name.
Did you read the whole thing? I have hardly had an incident with my car during the past 15 years apart from saving others from crashing into me. I'm not faultless - nobody is - but I drive with care and no aggression and work to get traffic flowing. As a result, I rarely get surprised by anything.

When you say I constantly ride out of my depth, what do you base that upon? Over the past 16 years I have had two low-speed spills when I locked the front wheel and one front collision when a car came around a corner on my side of the road. I don't have a death wish, but I do like to ride a bike close to its limits. Or my limits. But not beyond them. Usually, provided the bike isn't too good or fast, I keep my speeding to deserted roads where I can see far ahead.

I could take lessons, of course, and I could always become better at riding. Naturally. We all could. But how do you determine skill? The ability to ride the bike close to its limits? The ability to never create danger around you? The ability to never exceed your abilities? The ability to stop rapidly?

If I learned to go even faster than I do at the moment, I would ride faster. I don't believe in the saying that people who do track days ride slower on the road; surveys show differently.

Many years ago, Cycle magazine did a survey to find out what kind of riders that didn't crash and never had. What they learned was that there wasn't a single highly skilled rider among this group of non-crashers. At least not when it came to motorcycle control. Everybody said the most important aspect of safe riding was to always ride within your limits. Yet virtually noone of them knew where their limit was. And only a handful was willing to take a course to learn more about where the limit was.

Basically, they rode slowly and where safe because of careful acting and not due to good skills. I see no fun in that. I like the feeling of scraping a footpeg hard around a sharp corner with a 200 foot drop on the outside. Of course, crawling around 20 degrees from vertical at half the speed would be a lot safer. And boring enough that I'd quit riding if I had to adhere to it.

Put me on a Gixxer 1000, and I'd be about as safe as an unsecured grenade. Put me on my old KZ400, and I'm riding slowly when conditions demand and corner hard around sharp, slow bends when conditions allow. Which is why I'm staying away from the former type and expand my range of old, slow dungers

:wink:
 

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Discussion Starter · #10 ·
On 2006-11-20 13:46, zippythehog wrote:
faffi,
If I didn't know better, I would think you were putting us on.

Have you ever considered skydiving?

If you can, why not take several classes regarding riding?

If you can't, why not just slow down?

Instead of making a goal of riding the tar out of the machine, make your number one goal getting home and not having to do maintenance on the bike before the next ride.

It is safe to say that you are well aware of your limits and that of the machine- you simply chose to ignore them. Remember, you can't change the laws of physics.

Godspeed,
Zip
I have contemplated skydiving, but it wouldn't be long before I started to see how long I could wait before opening the 'chute. Not because I'm a daredevil - I'm not and I'm not after adenaline kicks - but because I fascinated by control at the limit.

Nor do I think I overstep the limits of my machines. I have only done that once, back in 1983. But I am guilty of overriding the conditions at times, that is riding faster than I can see. If a corner tolerates 60 mph from the bike's point of view but only offer visibility to go around doing 40, I have too often gone towards the upper limit. This happens less and less often, but that it still does is pretty stupid, of course. I am working on it, though :razz:
 

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On 2006-11-20 14:34, faffi wrote:
On 2006-11-20 11:04, TBirdVI wrote:
Wow, quite a story. You do constantly ride out of your depth. You might kill someone on your way out. Take some lessons to improve your skill; take some life lessons to stop riding like a dork, or just keep off the road on your bikes and in your car. Guys like you give the rest of us a bad name.
Did you read the whole thing? I have hardly had an incident with my car during the past 15 years apart from saving others from crashing into me. I'm not faultless - nobody is - but I drive with care and no aggression and work to get traffic flowing. As a result, I rarely get surprised by anything.

When you say I constantly ride out of my depth, what do you base that upon? Over the past 16 years I have had two low-speed spills when I locked the front wheel and one front collision when a car came around a corner on my side of the road. I don't have a death wish, but I do like to ride a bike close to its limits. Or my limits. But not beyond them. Usually, provided the bike isn't too good or fast, I keep my speeding to deserted roads where I can see far ahead.

I could take lessons, of course, and I could always become better at riding. Naturally. We all could. But how do you determine skill? The ability to ride the bike close to its limits? The ability to never create danger around you? The ability to never exceed your abilities? The ability to stop rapidly?

If I learned to go even faster than I do at the moment, I would ride faster. I don't believe in the saying that people who do track days ride slower on the road; surveys show differently.

Many years ago, Cycle magazine did a survey to find out what kind of riders that didn't crash and never had. What they learned was that there wasn't a single highly skilled rider among this group of non-crashers. At least not when it came to motorcycle control. Everybody said the most important aspect of safe riding was to always ride within your limits. Yet virtually noone of them knew where their limit was. And only a handful was willing to take a course to learn more about where the limit was.

Basically, they rode slowly and where safe because of careful acting and not due to good skills. I see no fun in that. I like the feeling of scraping a footpeg hard around a sharp corner with a 200 foot drop on the outside. Of course, crawling around 20 degrees from vertical at half the speed would be a lot safer. And boring enough that I'd quit riding if I had to adhere to it.

Put me on a Gixxer 1000, and I'd be about as safe as an unsecured grenade. Put me on my old KZ400, and I'm riding slowly when conditions demand and corner hard around sharp, slow bends when conditions allow. Which is why I'm staying away from the former type and expand my range of old, slow dungers

:wink:
Yep, I did read it all. Two or three times. My comment on your driving came from your relating " I noticed that I was a constant danger whenever I entered traffic, regardless of vehicle. I noticed that I had tons of near-misses every day, especially in my car." Yeah, I know. I'm not paranoid, they're all out to get me.

I'm getting back into riding after 10 years away. I like to push my limits and am raising the bar as I ride more, but 170km/hr around blind corners might be a rush but it's also pretty dangerous, for you and the truck coming the other way. I suspect the skilled riders Cycle World was talking about eventually learn when to go fast and when it's just foolhardy and eventually the number of accidents and near misses they have decrease.

Anyway. I stand by my observations. I'm not going to get into a pissing match with you and I do wish you luck. Ride safe.
 

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Discussion Starter · #12 ·
Why must it be a pissing match? I think discussions are good :cool:

It was in 1991 that I finally grasped that I was a danger in traffic, and since then I've dramatically altered the way I act in traffic. I'm far from perfect, but the difference between me as a driver or rider in 1990 and today is HUGE. But it was reduced significantly with the Sprint because it was so easy to ride stupidly fast :( If I hadn't crashed it, I would have sold it come spring.

It wasn't Cycle World, but Cycle that invited 50 casualty-free riders from all over USA around 1980. And they didn't show much skill that would have made them quick around a track or in traffic for that matter. And when they where offered a free course to learn basic and advanced skills, there were few takers. These people were not interested in learning how to expand their envelope.

Still, one could argue that they were excellent riders since they didn't crashed despite their limited ability to go fast or stop hard.
 

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Discussion Starter · #13 ·
There is one strange thing I have noticed after posting the same long story on 3 different boards, this included, and that is the disparity of the responses.

Here are 3 typical responses, one from each forum:

1) That's a better story, and better written, than most of the Reflection-type articles I've found in the Magazines. I didn't find this account of your adventures long or boring... I could read more. Just glad you survived all those situations to tell the tale.

2) Wow, quite a story. You do constantly ride out of your depth. You might kill someone on your way out. Take some lessons to improve your skill; take some life lessons to stop riding like a dork, or just keep off the road on your bikes and in your car. Guys like you give the rest of us a bad name.

3) Thanks Faffi.

You've no idea how much better I feel having read all that

I think you've proven beyond reasonable doubt there is some higher power at work here. On that basis you should feel free to go buy the fastest, best handling weapon you can. Based on past experience the worst that can happen is a few more broken bones hehe

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I find these difference highly interesting because it shows a difference in culture between different boards as well as different continents.

Generally speaking, riders of race replicas think I ride like a wuss and could do well with buying something faster and better handling and screw risk. Classic riders seems more interested in the lessons that can be learned and are pretty open-minded. Triumph riders... well, you be the judge :hihi:
 

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I find myself having to wiegh in on this. At 61 years old I have been riding since about 1970. I have never had a serious incident. Still, I don't consider myself a good rider. I think therein lies the secret of this whole thing...attitude. If you think you are invincible you will probably die young. I may not be the most exciting rider out there but, I hope to still be doing it at say...90 Enjoy !
 

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Discussion Starter · #16 ·
I'm more fast than good, I guess... but even I want to ride until I'm 90. At least. Which is why I'm going to limit myself to what I have ridden most of my life; slow and mediocre middleweights. That alone enhance my chance of survival plentyfold.

My brother has a similar attitude to me while riding, but after watching me being served a big Volvo for supper he promptly decided to get rid of his Daytona because he, too, knew that we were going around that corner slower than usual for us when we ride together and have decent bikes.

So he now has a 1971, I think, Triumph Triple as well as several other old machines like a Guzzi 850 Special, XL250R and several more. Hopefully, we will be able to have lots of fun and throw lots of sparks at a much more sensible pace than we can muster on Triumph 900s :wink:
 
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