Bike snob — shopping for my first motorcycle

My husband can hardly wait for the debrief when I walk in the door. Even though he got to see some of our riding test, he wants more details – how did it all go, what did I learn, did I like it? Funny how when I want the same level of detail from him in conversation I usually get some sort of one-word answer: good, fine, great, super. I am exhausted, so my attempt at the same kind of reply is met with further prodding. I remind myself this is what he loves, and the class was a gift. Part of the satisfaction for him is in knowing what I think about motorcycling now.

Over the next several hours, I slowly begin recounting everything I can remember – stories from Mike, challenges of the range, what was hard, what was easy. He asks me: “What was the biggest take-away?” Easy. I have a greater appreciation for the power of the machine. Part of that new knowledge produces apprehension I had not anticipated – like imagining everything that could go wrong while riding and many of those things being accidents I did not cause. Just stupid things other drivers – especially cars – will do around bikes. Part of it is the desire I now have to see just what that power can do. What would it feel like to ride faster than the 15 mph we did on the practice course? How consumed will my mind be while making the many decisions necessary to control the bike? Will I like that mental challenge, or will I prefer the mental escape of riding on the back of the bike instead?

On Saturday night, I am not sure of these answers. But after a 12-hour recovery sleep, I wake up Sunday to find myself surfing the Internet comparing different starter bikes. After church, we compile a list of my best options based on my husband’s nearly encyclopedic knowledge of the many makes and models of bikes. We consider key criteria such as seat height, weight, handlebar and foot peg position – not to mention looks.

While I am sure I need to test ride the short list, I am drawn to one or two that seem perfect for me:

Color preference: red. Both bikes come in right around 400 pounds or a little less and have a fairly low seat – about 30 – 31 inches. I am really tall, so this doesn’t seem like it should be a huge factor for me, but in straddling the different bikes my husband has at home now, each is tall enough to make me question my ability to keep them from tumbling over if I am not careful. The Honda Rebel I rode as my loaner bike was very low, probably ideal for new learners and not a bad starter bike for the average height person.

But I admit I love the signature trellis frame of the Monster. “Bike snob,” my husband says with a grin when I keep coming back to the Ducati website. I find this a bit ironic since his bike of choice is either a BMW or a Ducati – we have four bikes in the garage now in spite of the fact I have told him for years that as far as I knew you can only ride one at a time. Still, this is better than many other things he could collect, so I have never complained about his obsession with motorcycles. Especially not since I hopped on last year, and have not been able to get enough of riding since.

My husband also digs out a book he read many years ago called “The Perfect Vehicle,” by Melissa Holbrook Pierson.

The author writes about the mysterious attraction of the motorcycle, its history, the type of people who ride, why they love it and her own experiences with the machine. “You gotta read this,” he says. “You write like her.”

I also recall the many bike movies we have enjoyed together and that I always found fascinating even before we rode together. “On Any Sunday,” “The Fastest Indian,” and the iconic “Easy Rider.” Maybe bikes were meant to be a bigger part of my life than just riding on the back, yet even after the course, I don’t feel like I’ve mastered it all yet. But then again I can’t remember any sport I’ve felt entirely comfortable with the first time through. The challenge comes in perfecting your skill over time; otherwise it wouldn’t be very interesting.

We decide the next step, after getting my motorcycle license, is for me to get some road practice on more isolated streets near our home out on the edge of town. And maybe a shopping trip is in order.

“You’ll get the hang of it,” my husband says with complete confidence. “Like I’ve always told you, you were meant to ride.”

I guess we’ll see.