There is no shortage of finger wagging on the internet about how novice riders should consider small-displacement bikes, ideally 250s. Believing that while fortune favours the bold, caution favours the old, I accepted this guidance and shopped diligently for such a bike. Like most advice on the internet, though, it turned out to be a little on the glib side. 250cc cruisers like the Yamaha V Star 250 and the Honda Rebel look great in pictures, but I felt like a circus bear on them (I’m 5’11”, 200-ish lbs). When I took the MSF course, I had been issued a Kawasaki Eliminator, which managed the trick of being both Ken doll-tiny and stubbornly reluctant to turn. It was awful, and dampened my enthusiasm for going the cruiser route. I liked the idea of a standard and thought the Suzuki TU250 might make a respectable place to start, but there were simply none to be had at the end of the season. Honda’s CBR250R was a very tempting package, especially with ABS – everybody loves this bike – but the sport bike aesthetic just doesn’t fit me. I’m not that guy, and motorcycling, it turns out, demands that you know exactly what guy you are.
A little stumped and running out of good weather days, I
pled my case to the local Yamaha dealer, thinking I might end up on a Virago.
Instead, he led me to the back of the building where they kept their used
inventory. Buy your first bike used, he said, because you’ll probably drop it.
And yes, don’t buy something too heavy or powerful. But for pete’s sake don’t
by something so small and pokey that you’re sick of it in a month and end up
doing something stupid. And with that, he pointed to a tidy little silver 2006
Suzuki S40. “The best kept secret in beginner bikes,” he said. Almost as light
and just as narrow as a 250, but a touch roomier and, at 650cc, more powerful.
And, I have to admit, it appealed to me that the S40 wasn’t dripping in
pseudo-Harley cruiser drag. There could hardly be a plainer, more honest bike,
in fact. But for the relaxed rake of the front fork, you could call it a standard.
It makes no statement at all. That’s the guy I am.
The bike was a consignment, so it took a few days to settle the deal. Rather than ride it home, I’d have it delivered to our house the next Friday afternoon. The nearest pavement to our place, you see, is 3km distant, at the bottom of a steep, twisty gravel hill. I wasn’t ready for that to be my first open road experience. I had not, if I’m honest, even thought about that hill until the shop called to say the S40 was mine. But I looked at it this way: the little thumper had passed through six owners on its way to my driveway, probably all novices, and not one of them appeared to have dropped it. So maybe it’s a lucky motorcycle. Amor fati.
The bike was a consignment, so it took a few days to settle the deal. Rather than ride it home, I’d have it delivered to our house the next Friday afternoon. The nearest pavement to our place, you see, is 3km distant, at the bottom of a steep, twisty gravel hill. I wasn’t ready for that to be my first open road experience. I had not, if I’m honest, even thought about that hill until the shop called to say the S40 was mine. But I looked at it this way: the little thumper had passed through six owners on its way to my driveway, probably all novices, and not one of them appeared to have dropped it. So maybe it’s a lucky motorcycle. Amor fati.
No comments:
Post a Comment