Becoming a Biker, Part 2: Learning to handle the new Harley

This thing might kill me. That thought is on my mind as I learn how to ride my shiny new purchase, an 883 Harley-Davidson Sportster.

Experienced riders advised me to never lose this respect for my bike. Riding is risky, no matter how good you are.

Nearly everyone recommended the three-day motorcycle rider safety training program put on by the state division of motor vehicles for $85. Anxious to increase my odds of survival, I signed up. Plus, if you pass the class, you get your license. That means avoiding the stand-alone test at the DMV.

But the earliest state safety class available was June 3. Who could wait that long?

For $50, the state will give anyone a motorcycle learner’s permit. That lets you ride in the state from dawn to dusk. No experience or knowledge required. Get on and go.

Not that I was in any hurry to do that. Just sitting on the bike and starting it up was thrilling enough. And that’s all I did for a few weeks. Then it was moving the bike a big 15 inches. What a thrill, shifting into in first gear, slowly releasing the clutch, inching forward, and rolling backward.

Next, to the end of the driveway and back. Then to end of the short dead-end street and back. Back and forth, back and forth. As boring — and perhaps silly — as this sounds, it wasn’t. Learning how to throttle, clutch, shift, turn and brake takes a lot of practice.

Finally, the big day. My outing with cars. An experienced Harley-riding friend assured me I was ready to ride a mile to the parking lot at Jenness State Beach in Rye. The big open pavement. She followed behind in an SUV.

For several weeks, she coached me on how to do figure-8s, turns, stops, and shifting at various speeds. Going straight was easy. Accelerating exhilarating. Turning frightening. But still fun.

After becoming comfortable with all this, I took to the open road. Well, almost. A slow 30-mph trip along Route 1A through Rye and Hampton. It was ideal because it’s slow, has a lot of curves to practice on and few intersections. Invariably, a line of impatient motorists would collect behind me.

I find few things natural about riding a bike. It’s not like a car. It involves your entire body. Your hands and feet control different functions, braking, shifting, accelerating. And your body controls things like the bike’s balance.
The open road

On April 17, the mercury hit a record 90 degrees. No one with a motorcycle left it at home. I suited up in full leather armor and full face helmet, and attached the windshield. My first highway ride, a 48-mile commute from Portsmouth to Manchester on routes 95 and 101.

What a drag! Noisy, vibrating and way too dangerous. Cars whizzed by way too fast and close. I found myself envying people in their cars.

Holding the throttle open for the 45-minute ride was painful. Not much different than gripping a vibrating jackhammer. By the time I arrived at work, my right hand ached and my arm was numb up to my elbow. No leisurely ride to work sipping your coffee and listening to the radio. Plus, I missed my morning stop at Dunkin’ Donuts to get a coffee for the office. Bummer.

By the afternoon, the National Weather Service had issued thunderstorm warnings. The rain never came, but the wind did. Ungodly blasts of wind pounded me. My bike blew all over the highway. I gripped the handle bars and hung on for dear life.

I tried to calm myself with words like, “Of course, motorcycles are designed to drive at highway speeds in high winds.” But this one sure didn’t act like it. Who in their right mind rides a bike on the highway?

So what’s next? It seemed like I had done it all: back roads, highway, parking lots. I even began feel pretty cocky about having logged 760 miles on my bike. I half suspected the state’s three-day safety course would be a bore, although experienced bikers assured there was plenty left to learn.

The course was taught by a stout man named Chico, who rode an awesome Harley. He looked the biker part with a shaved head, giant mustache, black leather jacket, black boots and black jeans. In his other life, he is a successful bass player who travels around the world playing with well-known artists such as blues singer Koko Taylor.

Chico, and an assistant instructor named Doug, imparted all sorts of valuable and potentially life-saving information to the eight women and three men in attendance. Some had never sat on a motorcycle or even driven a standard transmission car. Others, like myself, owned bikes and had put a number of miles on them with learner’s permits.

The state supplied the motorcycles: lightweight 150cc and 250cc Hondas and Suzukis. Some were brand new. Others were battle-scarred. Mine was an abused Honda CB125. Most of the red paint was scraped away from the dented gas tank. One rear view mirror was missing. The gear shifter was bent, and a parking light had a missing lens. But it ran great and was perfect for learning.
Real-world knowledge

Chico taught us about the official and unofficial rules of the road. Every day we learned more about how to ride safely. Stuff like where in the lane to ride, how to be seen in traffic, how to minimize the risks such as a car turning in front of you, and lots more. We went over numerous potentially dangerous situations (from oil on the road to a dog giving chase) and how to ride through them. It was all good stuff.

To my amazement, even the people who had never ridden before did great. They stayed upright and balanced. They even rode pretty well for their first day of ever sitting on a bike. In hindsight, I can see it would have been a lot easier and if I had taken this course before I ever got on my bike. Even bikers who have years of experience say this. Many take this course because it has a lot to teach even veteran riders. The state offers advanced riding classes, too, which I intend to investigate.

Everyone in the class had a blast. Occasionally we dumped the bikes, but by the end of the three days, we were all weaving through tightly-spaced orange cones, swerving around an imaginary school bus, accelerating through sharp turns and skidding to a short stop.

The third day of our class was the big evaluation day. Each of us had to successfully maneuver the bike through four exercises: weaving and sharp turns, quick braking, hard accelerating through a tight turn and swerving — all stuff we had been practicing for two days.

We were all ridiculously nervous and jittery. Many of us rode like we never had before, which is to say terribly. We hit cones, overshot turns and such. But we all did well enough to pass by a decent margin.

By the day’s end, Chico handed us all little graduation cards. All 11 of us became bikers right then and there. The real thing. And more.

As Chico said, we didn’t just get our license. We had joined the universal brotherhood of bikers. Very cool.

"new riders who buy a powerful bike before they learn to ride."

just a point of view. I learned on an old full dress panhead and still ride heavy bikes. It's those light weight ones that scare me. They always feel so wobley, unstable, and have a seating position that turns your upper body into a sail. You have to look at the speedo to see how fast your going because you can't feel the engine thumping. The gear shifts and brakes are in the wrong place with your knees jacked up in the air. The lean forward seating position gives a backache and contributes to fatigue on the long rides.

You do understand that if I'm on my Kawasaki GPz and you're on any Harley you'll only ever see my tailights while there's no chance that I'll see yours until I turn the engine off.

Relativly poor (even miserable) performance is the price Harley pays for using an obsolete twin V design for the sake of getting that nice popping exhaust note that everyone associates with a bad bike.

It seems you've never had the pleasurable experience of owning, perhaps even riding, a Harley.

I have a Honda ST1100 that will take me to 130mph in a few seconds. I also have a Harley Fat Boy that tells me to "f off" if I even consider taking her over 75.

I love 'em both. The ST gets many more miles. The Harley gets many more rides. Different bikes for different fun.

Not that I have any use for Harleys, but...

I could teach anybody who wasn't spastic how to ride and control a motorcycle in 20 minutes. The thing nobody could teach anybody else in 20 minutes is the judgement necessary to stay alive on bikes.

Two or three basic ideas will go a long way in that direction however.

The road itself is more dangerous to a motorcycle than to a car. Get into the habit of watching the road for bricks, dead animals, snakes etc. etc.
Don't be racing on the highways, but get into the habit of using the power of the bike to keep yourself out of tight clumps of traffic and keep as much distance between yourself and other vehicles as possible..
Don't get into exotic bike driving tricks like driving between cars on top of the divider lines.
While passing other vehicles, keep to the side of the lane you're in furthest from the other vehicles.
Don't drive in other peoples blind spots, don't assume other people see you, don't take longer than necessary to get past other vehicles, etc. etc.

PUG wasn't running H/D's in the ground, he was telling the truth...
I've owned three (a '45 45 a '51 74 and '91 1200cc Sportster) H/D's out of the twenty plus bikes I've owned during my fifty four years of owning and riding dirt and street bikes.

In '00 I sold my last H/D, a 91 1200 cc Sportster with Sifton cams, screaming Eagle ignition, 42MM flat-slide Mikuni carb, Works Performance rear shocks an performance damping kit in front forks.
For a Harley it was fast... :o)

I thought I was all through riding, two weeks later, I ordered an '01 SV650 Suzuki; it's quicker, handles better and stops better than the Sporty...
The best all around street bike I've ever owned was an '81 GS1100 Suzuki, it ran flawlessly for ten years, all I did was service it and buy new tires: it really went through rear tires... :o)

The best dirt bikes I've owned were a '67 360cc Maico MXer, a '74 KX400 Kawasaki MXer and an '83 DR500 Suzuki.

All motorcycles are great, that's why there are so many different makes and models...If I was a little younger, I would get a new GSX-R1000 Suzuki, for the road and a DR-Z400E Suzuki for the dirt... :o)

This SV650 works just fine for the old geezer... :o)

Suzuki SV650 and Blackie

My experience has been quite the opposite. It's the Harley crowd that always seems to have a chip on it's shoulder. Only seldom does a Harley rider wave when passing me; other riders always do. It's the Harley crowd that seems to insist on a dichotomy bewteen they and all other riders.

This seems to be somewhat of a regional thing. I rode in SoCal (predominately Hondas) for over thirty years, and your description is accurate for that area. Then I moved to Colorado (four corners area), and the Harley riders here wave just as often as the GoldWingers. There are also MORE Harleys than any other machine here.

They don't mistake me for one of their own, either -- I'm on a silver Honda ST1100 wearing a white helment and an Aerostich suit. :)

Pardon me Advo, for intruding but I must point out that there are women who eschew warpaint in favor of callouses, utility over vanity and action over words...There are other forms of exercise that emphasize upper body and grip strength and stamina...perhaps you should vary your fitness regimen to include indoor sports.LOL! Because you're a Freeper, Please wear you brain bucket...you're worth three liberal headfulls and I'd hate to see that US resource being hosed into a rain gutter....peace, Bra

PS Don't flip off 2T...shes a dead shot...no harley OR Rice Grinder I EVER heard of can beat a bullet off the mark...<*knowing grin>

I almost feel sorry for these new riders who buy a powerful bike before they learn to ride.

Yeah well I probably went too far the other way, dude... Beginner rider here, took the riding training program last month and ran out and got some wheels the next day... You can call me a pussy but ever since I went and got my happy a$$ concussed on a BICYCLE with a helmet on, I had some of the almighty fear of Gawd put in me I reckon... Lil' girl here don't have much push but she's fine for town riding if I can quit popping the clutch in the middle of intersections, bwahaha...

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