The Grover Wheel

Being a car fan my entire life has conditioned me with a love of beautiful machines. For years I have admired the simplicity and design elegance of motorcycles, but up until recently I had not considered one for my personal use. A few weeks ago, a friend of mine bought his first motorcycle (a humble Honda CBR250R) and this act was enough to convince me to look into purchasing one for myself.

I had visions of a cooler me, one with a leather jacket and a devil-may-care attitude. Somewhere between Marlon Brando and The Terminator, I would ride down the road making men envious and women swoon.

These thoughts were still swimming through my head when I pulled up outside the dealership for my first test-drive.

My first warning sign was when the dealer recommended a 500cc motorcycle as a good starter bike. Now, for those who don’t know, ‘cc’ is short for Cubic Centimeter and is the notation used for the size of an engine’s bore. In layman’s terms, it’s how big a bang the engine makes and a rough representation of how much power you can generate.

In a gross oversimplification, more cc’s equals more power.

My father’s first motorcycle (40 years ago) was a 125cc. Due to the motorcycle industry’s fervent efforts to reduce population by increasing the speed of bikes, the smallest motorcycles available today are 250cc. For perspective, 500cc motorcycles would, in the past, have been considered “big bikes” used by experienced riders and avoided by those new to the sport.

Ignoring all of this, I swung my leg over the side of the bike and prepared for my first ride. Easing on the throttle, slowly letting out the clutch, I gently…

No, gently is the wrong word. Explosively, leapt the bike forward ten feet and lurched at ever-more-erratic speeds towards the highway directly in front of the dealership. I was dimly aware of the three Harley-straddling bikers behind me, their faces etched with a combination of shocked amusement and mild concern for my safety.

In those brief but terrifying few seconds, I learned a few things about bikers. First, they are completely and utterly insane. After doing a bit more research, I have discovered that even the slowest bikes available today are still quicker to accelerate around town than most sports cars (but with the added benefit of near-certain death in even a small crash).

Secondly, these so-called “slow” bikes are looked down upon by more seasoned riders as pathetic. So strong is the disdain seasoned bikers have for “little bikes” that even the advertising for these bikes is sneering. A direct quote pasted from one used-motorcycle advertisement reads:

“2008 Honda CMX250C Rebel, repaired and ready – Sing Steppenwolf’s born to be mild while you read this ad. Slower than mud, but more exciting than a dial-tone, not what you want but all you need. It’s the 250 rebel…Comes with a back-rest so you won’t fall off when you feel the power. Soft bags to carry your Twinkies and Beverly hill-billy’s lunch box to work.”

I took the liberty of correcting the more heinous spelling errors (who has time for spelling when machine-aided suicide is waiting the next time it rains?) but the content of the ad is completely unaltered. The fact remains that these are the people trying to sell the bike. Clearly, Russian Roulette proved to be too safe an activity for mankind, and so biking was invented.

I can only say that the experience of attempting to ride a “small” 500cc motorcycle for the first time was just like riding without training wheels for the first time—if my little bike had been fitted with a rocket, hundreds of pounds of steel weights, and a burning thirst for my flesh.

Now if you will excuse me, I am off to the motorcycle dealership. I need to see if they offer bikes that are less for Brando and more for Urkel.