It’s always interesting how life comes together and things become a little clearer. When I first started riding motorcycles two-strokes were the machine of choice for speed. As my mileage on different bikes has increased my specifications for the perfect bike have gotten more refined. I think it’s the cumulative mileage, and the long trips that effect me the most. Shaft drive, water-cooled, and multi-cylinder are the basics. Those would be the quantitative elements of the bikes I love.
The difficult issues are in the area of qualitative elements. Styling of a bike is a really subjective issue. When I break the cues of styling up there are usually four: cruiser; sport; tourer; adventurer. I know there are a lot of other types that don’t necessarily fall into any one category. But, they are probably made up of some part of each category.
Qualitative issues can sometimes be answered by experimenting with the actual product. I’ve sport ridden a Goldwing, and toured a Ninja ZX10. Commuting on a Concours is easy, but going to the grocery store can be a pain. When I lived in Naples Florida my current wife and I would go to the local warehouse club on the bikes. Filling the over-size grocery carts we would load up the two bikes. Cashiers who knew we were on bikes would follow us out, and watch in amazement as the bikes were quickly packed. The Goldwing and Pacific Coast made great grocery getters.
Any long term rider has a story about touring on a less than appropriate bike. Mine was a Ninja ZX10 I bought new in ’86. Traveling from the Seattle area down the Oregon coast to northern California I would stop in small town’s looking for trinkets to mail home. With nothing but a tank-bag I zipped between town’s talking to old duffers at gas-stations. I think that is where I learned some very important lessons about qualitative features and motorcycles.
The first quality issue I learned is to stay away from commercial activities when riding. I pass up the big gas-stations for the small ma and pop stations. People take time, and life is a little slower between the towns. That means you can learn about all the best roads, and maybe the next good place to eat. If you stay away from the regular fast-food chains you can meet some of the neatest people. In a little café’ some where in Tillamook Oregon a local peace-officer swapped stories of great riding roads. He said I was taking my time so I obviously deserved the best ride his county had. The roads were great.
Somewhere south of Fort Bragg in Northern California, climbing out of one of those many deep ravines the road goes down into, I was exiting the sharp turn rolling the throttle on firmly. As the bike came upright I hit the gas hard. The bike was perfect, I was hot, and the road was awesome. Time seemed to suspend, and a moment became eternity. That is the moment I live for while riding. Truth be told I was probably well within the bounds of speed laws. The corner was perfect, and I owned the road. Later when I switched to more touring oriented bikes I got the same thrill. I had learned an important lesson in the quality of riding. It’s about me more than the bike.