Illustration by Drew Shannon
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I’ve never liked motorbikes. Or rather, I never thought much about them – until I’d hear them, exhaust systems at full tilt, blasting down the road. The noise would make my babies burst into tears and leave me rageful at what felt like deliberate noise pollution.
So when I embarked on my motorcycle training journey it did seem a little odd.
It started from a simple desire. Living on Vancouver Island, I wanted to enjoy riding along its many ocean roads, to feel the sea breeze on my face while island-hopping, or even just puttering around town. But this vision was always on a Vespa. I was certainly never riding a 2018 Honda 300 CMX, otherwise known as the Honda Rebel. That is, until I was on one.
And now, with less than three months of riding under my belt, I realize there are some important life lessons to be learned from motorcycle riding. Lessons that don’t just involve shoulder checks and dominant lane positioning. It’s the more subtle learning I’ve absorbed along the way through the calm and patient encouragement from my instructor Gerry, a veteran rider with more than five decades of experience and a million miles under his own belt.
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Riding a motorcycle is not always a midlife crisis: The cliché goes, “This is what you do when you turn 50.” But what if it’s simply a desire to learn a new skill? To stay challenged? For me, as my children got older, it was a chance to feel the rush of wind around my body and to embark on a journey that will, quite likely, open up many new worlds and people in them. It had little to do with age.
Trust the process: I’m sure there are naturals out there who can hop on a bike, throttle into fifth gear and fly down the highway before I’m even out of the friction zone (that strange and controlled place where you loosen the clutch lever just enough to idle forward at a steady pace). But, I kept my butt on that seat and put in the time to learn. We won’t all get there at the same time, but we’re likely not headed to the same place anyway.
Lose the attachment to your identity: This is a big one. A biker has a certain look, style, sensibility, way of talking, being, acting and, of course, navigating the road. But there I was, none of those things. Break the idea of who you should be and you might make room for who you could be, or already are.
Don’t forget to breathe: I still need to remind myself of this when I’m riding. Breathe. Deep, slow breaths. Repeat. We live our lives so quickly that we forget the simple stuff. It’s good for our bodies and soothes our minds – both on and off the bike.
Loosen your grip: Act tense and life will be tense. So when I turn the ignition switch, I lower my shoulders. I loosen my grip and move fluidly. There will be bumps, grooves and unexpected shifts in the road. The tighter you hold on, the harder it can be – and this applies to more than just motorcycle riding.
Support each other: I never knew about the biker wave until I started riding. But once I understood what this two-fingered salute meant, I was fully on board. Imagine a world where we saluted one another in passing, not just as a greeting, but as a universal message to stay safe out there.
Keep your head up: In life, as on a bike, there’s rarely reason to look down – not just because it’s dangerous, but also because optimism can carry you a long way. Keep your gaze ahead. Look as far toward the horizon as you can and plan for what you see.
You can never be too good at the basics: This wasn’t a lesson I fully understood before learning to ride. But after countless hours of riding in circles and slaloming around pylons in a parking lot, I now understood why Gerry was insistent. Master the slow stuff, because everything else comes from a solid foundation in the basics.
Always scan your surroundings: Whether we’re on two wheels or two feet, we might all have fewer margins to work in than we think, so learn to look – and anticipate – before it’s too late.
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With my newly printed motorcycle licence now neatly tucked into my riding jacket, I feel a unique mixture of thrill and terror about what lies ahead. But mostly I am eager to continue on this journey. It’s just started, after all, and I will need to continually build and revisit these lessons along the way.
As for the Vespa? Yes, I did get that one, too. In matte green.
There’s a time and place for everything. Scooters included.
Amanda Fortier lives in Courtenay, B.C.