Motorcycling & Autism

In 2004 my wife and I had our son Max.  At the age of three his daycare provider was wondering about his reactions to sudden loud noises and encouraged us to have him in for assessment.  This was a difficult process for me, I didn't want him labelled and pigeon holed for the rest of his life, but at the age of seven he was diagnosed as being on the autism spectrum.

Autism presents in an astonishing number of ways.  In Max's case he's hyperlexic, and has many of the social cues you'd associate with autism (lack of eye contact, nervousness around strangers, generally missing social cues).  Encouraging Max into activities that other kids would leap at was always tricky.  We tried soccer for a year, but it wasn't his thing; Max does things in his own way.  When we started him on a bicycle he was slow to get into it and then wouldn't take the training wheels off.  After an intensive week last summer with Kid's Ability he was shooting around on two wheels.

We built him a bike (pretty much from scratch) and he's been inseparable from it since.  Last summer was, coincidentally, my first summer motorbiking.  While I was fettling my bike, he was fettling his.  I took him for a couple of short rides around town on the Ninja, but I was worried about how much attention he was paying on the back there.

This past weekend we took the bike down to Guelph on a sunny but cool Saturday morning.  With the topbox (and backrest!) on, it was a lovely ride.  I was no longer worried about him disappearing off the back.

He is very excited about the idea of riding which has me wondering about autism and motorcycling.  I think he enjoys the anonymity a helmet gives him (something not uncommon in autistic people).  In addition to the sense of anonymity is also the mechanical sympathy I see in a lot of autistic kids.  

My day job is as a high school teacher of computer engineering and we have a high number of autistic kids in our program.  I think they enjoy computers because they are consistent in ways that human beings simply aren't.  That consistency creates a trust in those kids; they can work with a computer and know that it won't be bizarre, random or emotionally difficult.  Some of my most focused, strongest students are on the spectrum and present a deep, nuanced understanding of technology.

Having a son who is autistic, I've moved from a professional relationship with autism to a much more personal one.  When it's your own son you start to see it in yourself as well.  My own mechanical empathy has a lot to do with my seeing machines as more than a sum of their parts.  Where I find people difficult, often frustratingly so, machines reward consistency and right action; I like them for that very reason, and suspect that my son does too.

I tried looking around online to see if there have been any links made

between autism and motorcycling but I couldn't find anything other

than a lot of 'rides for autism'.  The immersive nature of motorcycling fits nicely with the hyper-focus many autistic people are able to demonstrate.  You get to be anonymous inside your helmet and alone with your thoughts.  On top of it all, motorcyclists seem to have an intense relationship with their rides, what many 'normals' would consider to be mere chunks of metal, or worse, pointless infatuations.  A sympathetic if not empathic relationship with machines is a trait many motorcyclists and autistics seem to share.

I suspect there is a deep and lasting relationship between motorcycling and autism.  I wonder that there is nothing written about this anywhere.

Timing

Good book so far!

After enjoying The Perfect Vehicle so much I started on The Man Who Would Stop at Nothing.  I sent the author a quick email saying how much I enjoyed The Perfect Vehicle and hoped she'd keep at writing so well about the craft of biking.

After ripping through the first couple of chapters I did what anyone in the information age would do and looked up what John Ryan is doing at the moment.  The assumption was that he was making time somewhere and putting miles behind him.


I have a unique talent for lousy timing, and my starry eyed thanks to Melissa Holbrook Pierson for writing The Perfect Vehicle contained no idea of what was happening with her and motorbikes right now. She was very kind to right back so positively.  More people should drop a line to the writers they enjoy and say thanks (says the English teacher).

John Ryan, the main focus of my current read, is a record breaking Iron Butt rider.  He covered huge distances in record breaking time.  I stumbled across the Iron Butt Association when I was planning my Lake Superior circumnavigation earlier this year, so Melissa's latest book on this hidden subculture wasn't completely new to me.  As I was researching circling Superior I saw a blog post where the rider casually mentioned that he did it in less than 24 hours.  I was astonished!  And intrigued!

RIP John Ryan

I've been greatly enjoying The Man Who Would Stop At Nothing so far, so much so that I wanted to link John's blog to this one.  That was when I discovered that he'd recently died in a seemingly benign road accident.  I'm frustrated that he was rear ended by a cager in a Mustang, and that no other details of the accident are forthcoming.


So here I am, a week later, mulling over John's fate (yes, I'm a muller).  There is no doubt that motorbiking is a dangerous pass-time, one that demands the utmost attention, and I now suspect a degree of fatalism.  If John Ryan can be taken out by some idiot texting in his Mustang, so can we all.

I've been osculating between despair and bravado in responding to this. A small part of me wants to question what the point of it all is, and the other (larger) part is thinking, 'fuckin' ay! He died doing what he loved."  We should all be so lucky.  I've lately had the fear that I'll go shovelling the driveway, or be at work... how horrible!

In the book Melissa has a great quote: "Give your best years, your now, so that at some distant point, which may never in fact arrive, you can get all the pills you'll need to extend your shuffle to the grave."  The fearful response to two wheeling is, I think, based on this truth that so many people live by.

Melissa also talks in great detail about the calculus of risk in riding.  Knowing John as well as she did, I suspect she'd appreciate the fact that he left the world on two wheels, even while wishing he were still here.

I crossed the line a year ago when I decided to go take the course and get on two wheels.  It's approaching mid-winter here in Canada and that feeling of immersive freedom is as far away from me as it can get.  I'm sorry that John is gone, and reading the rest of Melissa's book is going to be tinged with that regret.

Does any of this stop me from getting back on two wheels as soon as I can?  Not remotely.  

Café racer

I've been getting a handle on café racer culture recently.  A good place to start is the documentary below available on youtube:

A motorcycle phenomenon that combines DIY backyard mechanics, customization, restoration, links to British post war culture and a focus on pure two wheeling?  I'm in!  When you also factor in the old RAF inspired bike gear café racing only gets better.


What first got me thinking about it was It's Better In The Wind, a beautifully shot and music themed short art piece about friends on their classic café racers.  As a mood piece it captured a lot of the gritty romanticism in motorcycling.



Last summer I was reading Shopclass As Soulcraft, and in it Matt Crawford described motorcycling as 'a beautiful war', which captured the risk and reward beautifully.  That book is mind expanding stuff written by a guy who walked away from academia and the magical thinking of the thought economy to open his own independent bike repair shop.  It's a must read, change your life kind of book that will make you want to get your hands busy again; just the sort of thing that racer building encourages.

I've tried my hand at restoring old cars or just keeping them on the road, but that tended to be a make it work to get to work kind of situation, lots of stress in that.  This is a hands on project that may very well lapse into a piece of rolling sculpture.  Mechanics, electronics and sculpture? I'm in love with the idea!

So, I'm on the lookout for an old bike that needs to come in out of the cold for the winter, one that's looking for a new lease on life.  It can be rusty and rough, the more it needs changing the more I'll want to change.  The end result will only enhance the feeling of oneness I've already felt with the Ninja.

There are many café racer links that will catch you up online:
http://rustyknuckles.blogspot.ca/2010/03/cafe-racer-magazine.html
http://www.caferacermag.com/
http://www.caferacertv.com/
http://silodrome.com/triumph-cafe-racers/

1964: The 'leather boys' later generation rockers on modded cafe racers

Rocker style, 1950s England

One of the genesis locations for Cafe Racing culture ACE CAFE

The leather jackets, boots and gloves, the helmets and googles, RAF uniforms
were an obvious inspiration for the cafe racer look

Sidecar for my Side Kick

Side cars are cool!

I've been thinking about getting a second bike, one that lets me do some distance with my son (and wife if I can convince her).  I'd initially wanted to get a Royal Enfield with a side car so we could Harry Potter it up.

Like a fish in water.

All together that's about a $12,000 new piece of kit.  I love the classic looks but with a 500cc engine, the RE wouldn't be brisk, though it would be frugal.

Something that might fit better happens to be for sale in Guelph just south of us with an asking price of $5000.  I didn't know anything about XS1100s, though the sidecar was done by Old Vintage Cranks so it'll be done properly.

Looking into the XS Eleven, I found some interesting history.  A monster bike in its day, it was known as a fast, heavy machine that you needed a sledge hammer to roll over in corners.  Since it's with sidecar I'm not so worried about laying it down.  It would certainly have the pickup needed to move a sidecar rig and would have enough grunt to manage all three of us.  At less than half the price of the Royal Enfield (though with less of the classic look I like and over 70k on it), it has some appeal.

As a second bike I'm hoping for something very different from the Ninja which I'd still like to hang on to because I'm not finished learning from it yet.  A big, classic Yamaha with side car is about as far from an '07 650r Ninja as you're going to get.

http://guelph.kijiji.ca/c-cars-vehicles-motorcycles-touring-xs1100-yamaha-special-with-sidecar-W0QQAdIdZ529601037

...bike is vintage & in great shape needs nothing for cert, sidecar is new cost $5500 to purchase & have installed by OVC the sidecar pros! comes with gel pak in newly recovered seat,, am/ fm/ USB for ipod or iphone cd sounds fine on the highway.

The Perfect Fall Ride

Other riders I know are talking about putting their bikes away already, I just can't bring myself to do it.  Riding in the cool autumn air as the leaves turn around you?  How on earth can you put a bike away with that going on outside?

Today I was off work for a periodontist torture session, so when the day broke sunny and cool I jumped out for a ride before the terror was to begin.  Rather than ride the barren agricultural desert of Centre Wellington again I made a point of aiming for some of my favorite geography.

The route!  Elora, up the Grand River to Shelburne, a short jog up to Horning's Mills and then down one of my
favorite roads to Mansfield, south on Airport Road to the Forks of the Credit, through Erin and over to Guelph

The road north east out of Fergus through Belfountain is nicely winding as it follows the Grand River.  The twists continued through Grand Valley where the road drops right down next to the river.  North to Shelbourne takes you through a science fiction landscape of massive windmills.  The blast down 89 into Shelbourne had me looking at the fuel light so I pulled in for gas and then stopped for a coffee.

I'm bad at looking after myself when I get going, I tend to push on rather than take the time to stay warm and charged up.  After a quick coffee I saddled up again and pushed on up 124 to Horning's Mills.  Located in a river valley north of Shelbourne, Horning's Mills has the feel of a place that time forgot.

Nothing says Shelburne like an old
Buick LeSabre!

I have a theory that when the geography rises up around you and blocks you off, all the the psychic static from those anxious, frustrated people in the GTA is deflected away; River Road out of Horning's Mills feels wonderfully isolated and far from the world.

We're probably still a week or two away from the fall colours, but the ride was gorgeous. It was getting on toward noon and the sun had finally warmed everything up.  In keeping with my look after yourself on a ride theme I brought a fleece sweater that I put on coming out of Fergus and three pairs of gloves, to try and find the perfect set for the cold air.  I ended up switching to the winter leather gloves after the warm up coffee and was glad for them.

With the first colours in the trees, crisp, cool air and a road that was very un-Ontario like in its bendiness, the warm and eager Ninja thrummed down the road with an urgency that washed away every care.

River Road between Horning's Mills and Mansfield

The ride south on Airport Road, usually a quick road with big elevation changes, was horrible.  There was some kind of grey hair convention going on, and combined with the construction, the ride was a disaster.  Rather than trying to pass every pensioner in a beige Camry in Ontario, I ducked right through Mono Cliffs and over to Highway 10.  While not as geographically exciting, Highway 10 did offer two lanes, and even though trucks were determined to drive side by each in them, I was able to flit through Orangeville and south to the last bit of interesting road on my trek.

The Forks of the Credit is a short bit of winding road that follows the young Credit River as it flows out of the Niagara Escarpment.  Once again construction ground things to a halt, but the crazy 180° hairpin and constantly twisting pavement reminded me of how a road can talk to you, especially through two wheels.

Forks of the Credit

By this point I was getting pressed for time to get back to Guelph for my torture session so I opened up the Ninja and hit Highway 24 through Erin and south to Highway 7 past Rockwood before ducking in to Guelph just south of the University for a quick lunch and then the blood letting.

The ride did a couple of things for me.  Taking longer trips I'm finding the Ninja remarkably easy to sit on for extended periods.  The seat is comfortable, the handlebars fall to hand and the bike is a joy to ride, it really wants to go.  What's getting me are the pegs.  Being as swept back and high as they are, my knees don't enjoy being folded up like that for long periods.  I find myself standing up on the pegs and resting my legs on the front frame sliders just to try and work out the kinks.  That 14° lean angle I could live with, but the 74° bend in the knees just isn't working for me.  Being long in the torso I also get a chest full of wind even with a larger, aftermarket windshield on the Ninja.

Having said that I covered about 230kms in between four and five hours with a few stops here and there, so it's not a show stopper.  There are other bikes that would fit me better, but I'd miss the Ninja's friskiness and eagerness to connect and become a single entity.  I'm afraid that something that would fit me better would be heavy and dull by comparison.

If you're thinking about putting your bike away, wait until the end is nigh and the snow is about to fly.  You never know when that perfect autumn day is going to suddenly appear in front of you and give you a ride that you can keep in the back of your head all winter long.  Yesterday's ride, complete with sore knees, wind burn and cold hands was a revelation.

10k

I looked at the odometer today as I pulled into the parking lot after my forth straight day of commuting and realized my '07 Ninja has finally hit the 10k mile mark.  The commute got her there, it's about 70kms each way with the first two thirds a country ride through the Niagara Escarpment, then an 11 km blast down the 401 before it slows down going into the GTA, then another couple of kms in Milton.  It's a nice ride.  Less so when it's pouring buckets of rain out of the sky, as it has for the last two days, but those were memorable rides too, even if uncomfortable, and a bit treacherous.

This weekend the Ninja gets round two of its spa treatment, a coolant flush and change and a cleanup after all that wet riding.

I was at Two Wheel Motorsport the other day getting oil filter and gaskets and the older guy behind the counter was talking about how it isn't about how you do the miles, but about getting the miles in.  I'm beginning to see his point.  Wheelies and high speed corners are all well and good, but there is something to be said about being the saddle and putting miles behind you while you're out in the world.

It's Sunday afternoon and I'm taking a movie break with the family before coming back and finishing putting the bike back together again.  I got the coolant flush done (though what came out was about as perfect as I've ever seen used coolant), cleaned the engine while I had the fairings off, and stripped the black off the tank.  The goal is to get the bike roadworthy for another week of commuting to Milton... that'll be another 700kms behind me.

Thunder bolts & Lightning

I was up early, getting ready for my 3rd day of commuting to Milton on the Ninja.  The sky was heavy, the roads patchy but still mostly dry.  In the 20 minutes it took me to get ready the weather moved in, rain bucketing down, the sky so dark the street lights came back on.

I'm standing there on my porch looking at the bike which I've got started, sitting in the driveway with rain tearing off it.  I've gotten into the safety gear, then the rain gear.  I'm hot and dry, but I won't be for long.  The car is sitting there, an easy, comfortable option.

I'm looking for experiences.  I could have stripped down and taken the easy way down, but I wouldn't have felt the rain, or smelled the world as it opened up under it.  I wouldn't have been out in the world as mist rose from the ground and trees emerged from the fog.

I was worried about the 401 but I need't have.  With the rain it was barely moving.  By the time I got to Milton I was crawling along at walking speed behind a transport truck.  I arrived at the school after an hour in the wet.  The worst was in Elora, then I drove out of it and it was only drizzle, but by then I was hosed.

I only lost the back end once while downshifting and a quick hand on the clutch got that back in line.  I stopped downshifting after that while in the deep water.

It's 2pm now.  Most of my gear is dry after some time under hand dryers and sitting on a warm lamp stand.  In retrospect, today would have been a good day to wear my big cool weather boots - I think they're waterproof too, unlike the AlpineStar summer boots I had on.   I now know my gloves aren't remotely waterproof.  The rain gear did a good job of keeping me warm and mostly dry.  The only wet spot on my body was on my stomach.  It probably got in under the jacket.  I'll tighten that up next time.

It would have been easier to jump in the car, it would have been more comfortable, but it wouldn't have left me with an idea of what riding in driving rain feels like; lessons learned.

It's 6pm now, and trying to dry out wet gear in an air conditioned lab is all but impossible... there is nothing better than some good old sunlight on a hot deck:

More Motorcycle Media

I picked up a magazine called Rider the other day.  It's American, and written by an older crowd, but offers a less adrenaline driven and more wise look at the sport.  There were a couple of articles that pointed me toward some interesting motorbiking.

RIDER magazine

The first was about Hubert Kriegel's 10 year epic ride around the world.  Hubert has been doing long distance adventure riding since the 1970s, and his Timeless Ride shows you just how active retirement could be.  That he doesn't over plan his trips and encourages the use of something other than a massive BMW is also refreshing.  Like the best adventures, Hubert stresses that wanting to do it is all that really matters, the rest is just noise.

The follow up editorial by Clement Salvadori was a detailed list of the adventure riding books that might lead you to your first RTW trip.  Now he has me looking for old, hard to find books such as Around The World With Motorcycle & Camera by Eitel & Rolf Lange, a father son duo who did it back in the 1950s on a old German bike with sidecar.  He also mentioned Ted Simon's Jupiter's Travels, which I first heard of while watching Long Way Round.

I also recently came across Mondo Enduro, an epic, low budget 'round the worlder by a group led by a teacher!  It's much less a star struck thing than Long Way Round, but very genuine and a joy to watch.  I can see why it has cult status amongst RTWers.

Clements also mentioned a number of pre-war attempts to circle the globe. Greg Frazier's Motorcycle Adventurer tells the story of Carl Clancy who made an attempt in 1925.  He also mentions Bernd Tesch who is trying to create a listing of RTW trips on motorbike.  It appears that 'round the world motorbike trips are a vibrant, world wide subculture.  Other pre-WWII books of interest are Nansen Passport: Round The World on a Motorcycle, by a white Russian fleeing the revolution, One Man Caravan, a mid-thirties American's Long Way Round from London to New York City, and the eight year epic journey by a pair of Hungarians in Around The World On A Motorcycle: 1928-1936.

Curse you designers!

Rider Magazine also pitched some interesting theory on design trends.  I hate it when I'm pigeon holed into a market segment (I'm Gen-X, we're like that), but they were bang on in describing how designers are aiming for post-boomers with less chromey, blinged out touring bikes.  I hate to admit it but Honda's getting it right with the new Goldwing - I never thought I'd say that.

I think I'll give Rider another go before I commit.  Many of the rides were American based, which is a bit tedious, especially when I think about the Adventure Bike Rider UK magazine I stumbled across a month or so ago.  Only one of their road trips were based in the British Isles, the rest took me everywhere from Beirut to Greece to South America, but then they don't think they are the world.   If it weren't so expensive to buy a UK magazine in Canada, I'd go for Adventure Bike Rider immediately.  They do offer a digital edition.  I might give that a go, but for a digital guy, I'm pretty paper bound when it comes to magazines (reading tablets in the bath gives me the willies).

No matter what, it's nice to know that there are thoughtful, quirky publications about motorcycling out there, it's not all about how much leather you can wear on your Harley or how long a wheelie you can pull.

Invisible Man

I was riding down to the city south of us today for a dentist's appointment.  Out on the 2 lane high way that cuts south through Guelph I had my first experience of being invisible.  In bumper to bumper traffic moving at about 80 kms/hr, the blue minivan driven by an elderly man (wearing a hat), suddenly lit up his indicators and with no shoulder check immediately moved into the lane I was occupying.

I had the radar on and saw everything he was going to do before he did it.  I eased on the brakes, weaved onto the curb and avoided being hit by him.  I honked (first time I've ever done that) and raised a hand in wonder at his  cluelessness.  The guy in the cage jumped when I honked, then made a point of ignoring me when I gestured.  I frightened him by honking, he was happy to knock me off the highway and then ignore the consequences.

I'm surprised at how not-angry I was.  Even though this clueless old git had no idea what was happening around him I couldn't get angry with him.   Like so many other caged drivers he is in his own world, remote from the consequences of his ignorance; happy to thump down the road at 90 kms/hr without knowing what is going on around him.

After shaking my head I was back in radar mode, wondering what the next cage driver would do.  Riding is only really dangerous when you're doing it with a lot of other human beings.

I got to the dentists and had a nice chat with my hygienist who rides.  The ride home was without any such drama, but I'm left wondering how often cage drivers think about what's around them.

Appliances & Commitment

Car companies use special effects to show what
 their cars can't do.  This only underlines the
absurdity of it all

I'm having trouble enjoying car ads.  I've always loved cars since I was a kid, but when I'm watching ads that show driving a car on the road as some kind of noble physical pursuit I'm finding them impossible to take seriously.  When you factor in the increasing use of special effects to show what the car being sold can't do, it only serves to underline how absurd it is to market the idea of car as a physical extension of the self.  In addition to being dishonest, it isn't how and why the vast majority of people drive.

More than most cars, the Acura RLX can make a claim to be a driver's car.  The end tag line about how amazing things can happen when man and machine connect is where this is beginning to break down for me.  How connected can you possible be to an automatic, climate controlled machine that weighs two tons?  It isn't what you could call an intimate relationship.

GM seems to have gone all in with the special effects.  Their econo-box is a skateboard, robot dogs abound, and the new Corvette can help you battle aliens.  The use of special effects to show what a car can't do (but how it's supposed to make you feel)  is becoming a key part of marketing these transportation appliances.

At the bike course one of our instructors talked about how tiring it is to ride a bike, especially when you're starting out.  We were all sitting there sweaty and tired in the classroom after a couple of hours manhandling bikes around increasingly complicated courses.  He asked us about our commute to the course that morning, what were we doing as we drove our cars?  One hand on the wheel, a foot on the gas?  Listening to the radio?  All in a  controlled environment remote from the road.

Now, he says, think about what you were just doing out there.  One foot on the gear shift, one foot on the rear brake, left hand on the clutch and indicators, right hand on the front brake, both arms steering, using your whole body to lean the bike into corners and resist the wind.  Riding is a calisthenic activity, and it demands much more of your attention because the result of inattention is never just a fender bender.

The only time I've come close to the same experience on four wheels was when I was cart racing in Japan or doing advanced driver training at Shannonville.  Knowing how intense and demanding that kind of driving is helped me a lot in taking the bike course, but it's not how most people will ever drive a car.  To 99.9% of drivers a car is a transportation appliance, a necessary means of getting somewhere; it's why everyone is so attentive and skilled on the road.  You can try and market a person's connection with their car in mystical undertones of human/machine perfection or simply paint it absurd with special effects, but the fact remains: the vast majority of  automotive drivers are in it for the same reason that we buy any appliance: to get a job done we'd rather not do ourselves.

Having ridden for a couple of months now, I'm beginning to see why bike riders tend toward a sense of superiority when it comes to being on the road.  Watching car companies go into graphic detail about how athletic you'll be in your two ton box starts to look absurd when you consider how drab the process of driving a car on public roads actually is; it requires a bare minimum of commitment.

One of the things that strikes me every time I get on the bike is how naked I feel.  I've never looked at the surface of a road so closely, or been so aware of where the painted lines are, or of what the weather is doing, or what condition my bike is in.  I think all riders feel this, even if they don't articulate it.  It's one of the reasons they tend to give each other a wave as they pass by; they are recognizing the commitment to the road that is lacking in appliance drivers.

This isn't to say that driving can't be athletic.  I'm an avid Formula One fan and I think those drivers are some of the finest athletes in the world, a truly balanced blend of physical endurance, strength and intelligence.  But on a public road there is only one form of driving that comes close to that level of commitment, dedication and focus, and it has never been on four wheels, no matter how exciting car companies want to dress up the operation of their appliances.

M2: Double the Fun

I got my M2 yesterday, which means I'm off double secret probation and able to ride at night, double people and/or go on the big highways.  Two hours after I got my M2 I took the bike over to my eight year old's school and drove him home on it.  It was a nice, leisurely ride through town.  He hasn't been able to talk about much else since.

Just like Nana used to drive:
The Isetta 3 Wheeler

One of our instructors at the motorbike course wasn't a fan of taking passengers.  To him it defeated the point of the whole experience; a singular, tight bond between rider and bike, and a chance to be alone with your thoughts.  I think that's an important part of biking, but I'm digging being able to share the feel of riding with my son.  To that end, I'm thinking about the options available.  The idea of a big touring bike doesn't really thrill, but in the antique and adventure bike arenas there are a lot of options.

I've got a thing for asymmetrical vehicles.  My Nana had a three wheeler when I was growing up in Norfolk. I loved that car, the door was the whole front end, and she looked so cool driving it.

Royal Enfield Bullet Classic

When I was a kid I also saw my share of Morgan Aeros, and the new Morgan 3 scratches that same itch.  Bikes have a long tradition of three wheeling too.  I've always thought the sidecar look was classic cool.  When I discovered that one of the premier vintage side car shops (Old Vintage Cranks) is only 20 minutes away from me in Hillsburgh, I could see me getting something from them in the future.


They also happen to be a Royal Enfield dealer, so I could get a classic look with modern parts!  With that bike a sidecar is almost a necessity!  OVC is the place to get that done.  A Royal Enfield Bullet Classic in blue with a matching classic side car would be an awesome way to share the open feel of riding with my family.

I think there will always be a place in the stable for a two wheeler, but it's nice to have a not crazy-expensive option like the RE Bullet and sidecar sitting there waiting for a tear down the road.  Cool chrome riding goggles and classic leather gear would be the accessory of choice.

At the moment I'm finding the Ninja to be a great first bike.  It's athletic, sounds wonderful and is always rearing to go.  With my son on the back I feel the weight, especially on the shocks.  Something with longer suspension travel, like that KLR I originally considered, would also allow for a better two person ride.  A KLR with luggage means I'm less worried about him flying off too, something the twitchy Ninja seems eager to do.

Now that I can do pretty much everything you can do on a bike on the road, the perfect bike isn't one bike.  I'd eventually want an enduro that can go anywhere, a road specialist, and something odd-ball, like that classic bike and sidecar combo.  At the moment my dream stable is a Triumph Tiger 800 adventure bike, a Triumph Street Triple naked road bike and that whacky classic with sidecar.  Being able to open the garage and see those three sitting there would mean all options are on the table... and the three together still cost less than a new mid-sized SUV.

Road Specialist

Triumph Street Triple

Enduro Go Anywhere Bike

Triumph Tiger 800