I grew up riding dirt bikes 3-wheelers and quads, I learned the physics of motorcycle riding back then, that said, I still took and passed a MSF course before I got my first street bike, an old '83 Yamaha Virago Midnight 920, yes my first street bike was a 920cc monster!
the Virago was quite docile though, it was a standard bike with an upright riding position, a nice low center of gravity, and a nice loping idle, I could put it in first and just putter around at idle, perfectly safe, perfectly stable, but twist the throttle and the bike jumped to warp, I tested it’s 0-60 time in under 3 seconds (just a hair under 3 seconds)
I got about a season of riding out of that bike, even though it was in bad tune, next season it would have cost far too much to fix it (I bought it off my freind for $150, and it needed $400 in repairs just to get it running semi-reliably) and parts were no longer easily available, I sold it when I moved back to Maine, got what I paid for it, I saw it as a good learning experience
two summers ago, however, I had an experience that made me re-think the whole motorcycle commute thing…
I was driving home, on Rte 236 in Eliot, Maine, a long, flat, dead-level road, about 5 miles of ruler-straight, flat road, in the mid-afternoon sun, I saw the flashing blue lights of a police cruiser ahead, as well as the red and amber lights of an ambulance, there was a dark shape in the middle of the road, vehicles were being directed around it, as I approached the dark shape, I saw it was a Harley cruiser laying on it’s side, a pool of dark fluid around it, no less than 100 yards away was a dark green Honda Accord on the side of the road, hazard flashers on
As I passed the Harley, a chill went up my spine, it felt like I had driven over a grave, as I passed the Honda on the side of the road, I saw the woman in the drivers seat with her head in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably…
A few weeks later, I was talking with a customer at work, he had ridden in on his Harley V-Rod, and I was admiring it (and coveting it), we started talking motorcycles, I relayed the story above…
He responded “yeah, I knew that guy, he died that day, hit by a car, the woman never saw him coming”
…my blood ran cold…
…for some reason, all my desire to ride a motorcycle ended that day…