Rubber City Marauders Akron Motorcycle Club










NEWS AND OTHER STUFF FROM THE MEANEST BIKER THUGS IN NORTHEAST OHIO


Sunday, May 07, 2006
	Risk Management Clement Salvadori Rider Report Tuesday May 2, 2006 It is not easy to acquire the skills that make one a very safe motorcyclist. The basics of learning to ride are relatively simple. If the motorcyclist-aspirant can ride a bicycle and drive a stick-shift car, he or she should be well on the way to a long, happy and safe career as a motorcyclist. And the more miles he rides, the better a rider he should be. That is the "experience factor," where we learn to deal with unexpected sand in the corner, the leg-biting dog rushing out from behind a bush on a wet day, the oncoming left-turning Buick. Experience is essential to safety. However, bringing that experience to the fore is the problem. How many of us have been looky-looing at the scene of an accident and nearly created a second accident? Or become overly focused on a traffic problem ahead, failing to appreciate that the real problem is the oblivious soccer dad in the mini-van, with cell phone and coffee cup, coming up from behind? Somehow we have to balance our awareness. But we all suffer lapses. After many years of riding, and more miles than I care to add up, I still fall prey to stupid moments. The other day I went to an urban trailer park to drop a book off at a friend's place. We had a cup of coffee, a chat, and then I got on the Harley to leave. The trailers were all pretty much cheek by jowl, the park was on reasonably flat ground, and what wasn't covered by trailers was asphalted. I clicked into gear and puttered off, thinking distractedly about several other errands that needed to be done, and as I went around a 90-degree corner the bike went into a shallow concrete drainage ditch that crossed the asphalt. I was not expecting this, and as the bike’s front wheel went down and up I inadvertently twisted the throttle, and that torquey monster had me accelerating toward a trailer 20 feet away. This was all a surprise, all due to inattention on my part, and I might have frozen for a moment to wonder just what was happening. Fortunately I had the meager wits about me to whack the throttle closed and get matters under control. No big deal, you say. From my point of view it could have been a big deal had I hit the curb, smacked into the trailer, and broken a leg. It was one of those little events, almost inconsequential, which gave me a small shiver down my spine. The point I am trying to make here is that I was not paying attention, because I was going slow and there was no traffic—had I been focused on what I was doing I would have noted that ditch and been prepared. It did not matter how much I knew, it mattered that I was inattentive. I wondered how a neophyte rider might have done, or perhaps an elderly gent on a Gold Wing whose reflexes are a bit delayed. Motorcycling, as we know, can be risky business. When the driver has four wheels beneath him and four airbags around him, a foolish move can result in no injuries and a bonanza for the local collision-repair shop. Try the same move on two wheels, and the end result can be vastly different. Like going down a country road and seeing a flock of geese, or a single egret, take off from a pond and fly into the sky. I turn my head to watch, and maybe watch a little too long, the bike drifting a little too close to the edge of the pavement. It is unnerving how quickly things can go awry. While traveling on a heavyweight bike a while back I was making a very tight, full-lock U-turn in order to set the bike up for a photo, and, being unused to the gearbox, just as I was about to power on and straighten up the bike, I found myself in neutral. The bike began to tilt alarmingly, and we all know how that generally goes: Crash! Fortunately I am a big bloke and could slam my foot down on the ground and manage to get the bike upright. But I should have made sure I was in gear before beginning the turn. I just finished reading a book by a woman (Riding in the Shadows of Saints, by Jana Richman) who was riding alone from Nauvoo, Illinois, to Salt Lake City. As a crow flies this is some 1,200 miles, and she was also making many little side trips as she followed the old Mormon Trail. She was on a BMW R100RT, which is a pretty big bike for an average-size woman, even when experienced, with all the problems that come with a lightweight person handling a weighty machine. She talks freely about her fears concerning riding, like not wanting to make U-turns, concern about the drop between the pavement and the shoulder on a country road, and worry about parking when there is a slope. And what to do if she has to pick the damned thing up. Let alone looking in the rearview mirror on a rainy day and finding some idiot with his grill 3 feet off her bike’s license plate. Legitimate worries, real-life risks. And she managed them well. When racing a motorcycle one has to be 100 percent focused, which does not really provide the opportunity to enjoy the scenery. A non-competitive alternative is a ride around town, not quite as demanding as a racetrack, but it is best to be on the qui vive, since you are dealing with stop signs and traffic lights, erratic motorists and delivery trucks, potholes and jaywalkers. Statisticians say that most accidents occur within 20 miles of home, which is natural since we spend most of our time around where we live. However, it is when we are on the byways of this continent that we learn to achieve the best balance between road wariness and scenic admiration. The sensible thing to do when riding over Wyoming's Beartooth Pass is to stop, or at least slow way down. But if there is traffic on the road, you need to pull off. And if the local road crew has just put down the 18th layer of asphalt and it is a good quarter of a foot down to the dirt shoulder, that can cause trepidation. I've bounced down into dirt pull-outs so I could stop for a look-see, and wondered how I was going to get back on the road, the pavement being so abrupt. We lessen our risks, be they to body or ego, by thinking about what we do—and thinking all the time. Unknown curve in the road coming up? Could be a decreasing-radius turn. Act accordingly. Management Rule No. 1: When in doubt, slow down. Or, if that Kenworth is right on your butt, speed up. Posted by C.L. Smith @ 2:53 PM email post 0 comments