Plan for the worst and hope for the best. (buy and wear ALL your gear, get training (you did), be cautious, and remember they're all out to get you)

I believe it's not a matter of if you go down, but when.  As I mentioned, just be as prepared for it as possible.  I got hit by a car making a U-turn into me after about 6 monthes with my GS.  I was a little sore and the GS was a little banged up, but after a couple hundred bucks the GS was in good shape again.  I learned from it and haven't had any problems other than drops at a standstill since then. 

But I know chances are something will happen again.  So I enjoy riding my bike (cautiously), and ride like everyone is out to get me. 

Your worst enemy is yourself!

If you think your too confident you will put yourself in some stupid situation and you will get yourself hurt.

If you think your not competent enough (i believe this is you - no offense of course) then you will also get yourself into a situation where you will get hurt.

You need to find a happy median, be confident that you can ride (take the MSF - excellent confidence builder) but also maintain respect that you are a new rider and (like everything) motorcycling has its dangers.



I think you have to think about it like this to stop yourself getting scared... Yes everyone says motorcycling is dangerous as hell, and yes there are more obstacles (diesel, oil, blind car drivers) that can affect you in a more significant way than when your driving. But the very essence of motorcycling is teaching yourself to drive a vehicle with a different set of challenges to overcome. When you get used to doing it and experience some hairy situations you will soon realise that you don't feel anymore scared than in your car. In fact i feel more scared in my car! But you will develop skills which mean riding everyday feels the same overcoming obstacles as driving the car everyday.

You are just learning to drive something new, just as you did when you first learned to drive, it is scary at first but once you've done it it feels normal. And yes the accidents will happen for exactly the same reason as they would or could in a car you just may get hurt more, but your also learning to avoid those situations far more because of it.

You will learn to love it!, don't think of it as more dangerous as driving think of it as a different challenge to driving!

Kasumi, that is a very wise response.

desilva, re: the link, I can't believe someone would invade a guy's private moments with his bike, then have the nerve to arrest him!

I'm thinking more like ice dancing, smooth and synchronized and together, but without spinning and flipping the partner around!

Yup, wear the gear!

Yeah, took the car out yesterday, I'm as worried now in that in our local traffic, as it's bigger and less maneuverable than a motorcycle. I feel safer on my motorcycle than I do on my bicycle. The moto can accelerate much faster to get out of the way! Even all the walking I do is hazardous. Life is hazardous, the joy I get from the moto or the bicycle or a good walk is what makes up for that, for myself.

The HAPPY STORIES are all the great rides, how free the bike makes you feel, and being closer to the world on a moto, not closed up inside a cage. You can smell fresh cut grass, the ocean or the pine trees say, woodsmoke in the winter, the diesel MBZ . It's like a convertible only more responsive.

Staying alive on a motorcycle is a multi-pronged attack.  It involves several things:

1)  The rider's attitude
2)  The rider's skill
3)  Prevailing conditions
4)  The bike

1)  Attitude is the most important thing to a rider.  I don't believe in destiny.  I can't.  It isn't in me to believe that there is an end-game and that there's nothing I can do to prevent me from living a natural life.  I WILL go down fighting and there WILL be hell to pay.  Think like a test pilot.  "I'm going to get this tin can back on the ground and it WILL NOT be the last thing I do!"  If you allow yourself the luxury of second-guessing your confidence the little gremlins will come out to play.  Worst case, as that left-turner pulls out in front of you you're going to freeze up and say "I can't do this!"

Confidence comes though knowledge and practice.  Take the time to learn everything you  can about motorcycling and experience as much of it as possible.  This doesn't mean that you should be over-confident.  More than one rider has binned it with the words "Watch this!"

2)  The FAA says that the most critical point in a pilot's thinking occurs at around 100 hours of flying.  This is because the pilot thinks he as mastered the feel of the airplane, but has yet to develop the judgement and fine flying skill required.  In short, many crashes involving low-time pilots occur because the pilot writes a check his skills can't cash.  Motorcycling is the same.  Again, learn the proper techniques, practice, and gently push at the edge of your skill envelope.

3)  Have you ever heard the phrase "He was in the wrong place at the wrong time"?  Learn to recognize dangerous situations and avoid them.  Cruising alongside a semi isn't smart.  Leaving your bike in neutral and staring at the cute chicks on the sidewalk while you're stopped at a light isn't smart either.  David Hough has written two excellent books on street survival titled "Proficient Motorcycling" and "More Proficient Motorcycling".  They're worth reading.

4)  Maintain your motorcycle like an airplane, because if something fails you'll be just as far up shaZam! creek on a bike.  Only, on a bike it will happen much faster.  Be meticulous.  Not only will your time be rewarded with a reliable, safe bike, but it will last longer too.

Now, don't get the idea I'm being critical of you.  Far from it!  There's a lot of bad press floating around regarding motorcycles.  You need to realize that the vast majority of riders have no training, no safety gear, no maturity and no riding skill.  The media loves to write stories about how some biker was "doomed" to splatter himself.  He wasn't doomed, he just chose not to spend the time to learn to ride safely.  Unfortunately, this attitude percolates though the riding community.  Some of us start to believe it.

A little fear is a good thing, as long as it doesn't affect your thinking.  I remember the very first ride on my GS.  I was leaving my driveway and headed down a 1-lane country road.  By the time I got a quarther mile up the road I was doing 80 without realizing it.  I remember my exact words "Jesus Christ!  I'm going to kill myself on this thing!" 

As I gained experience I started to feel better about my decision to ride a motorcycle.  Still, I sometimes get a little pang of "what if" when I get on the bike.  I consider that a good thing, it keeps me honest.  For the mostpart...   

Accidents are happy stories?  Well I guess surviving them and keeping on riding makes for the happy story part of it.   

Dropped my bike a few times over the years starting with the first week I was riding.  Was turning around in a wide driveway when I touched the front brake and laid it down.  That was back in 84 when I was just a young 52 yo and I just hopped sideways on one foot and didn't go down myself.

Racked up 300,000 miles with only a couple minor drops after that till July of 03 when a kid in a S-10 pickup clipped my rear as I was turning off a highway and I was launched highside across the road landing all of my 240# on my left shoulder.  Got transported to the ER with a broken collar bone and missed a couple weeks of riding.

I've put another 60,000 miles on since then without further mishaps except maybe a drop or two.  Figured if I could go another 20 years and 300,000 miles before they hit me again it would be long enough.   

Here's a happy story of my cross country trip... though I never finished it

I just put my GS away for the season... starting to turn nasty here in Chicago.  I've had her for two years... before that I had zero motorcycle experience.  I think it's the best purchase I've ever made.

That said, first year I knocked her over a few times and wiped out twice, both my fault entirely.  First time, I gunned a yellow light into a turn and low sided.  Second time I was going down a bumpy incline in the rain, too fast, and wedged myself under a pickup.  I was fine both times, wearing my gear.  Actually, I'm glad I've bit it.  Shakes you up but makes you stronger.

Second year, this year, not a drop.  I feel a lot more confident.  Cars knock over my bike when she's parked, but I've not done it myself.  I guess it's because me and the GS have grown used to each other.

But I think the question was about good stories...

I love that I can commute to work and show up with a big smile on my face.  I love the gas mileage, how I can park the bike downtown at noon for free, the cheap insurance, the second glances from chicks, leaning into a lazy curve, slicing through rush-hour traffic, a motorcycle jacket that fits like a glove, the little salutes from passing harleys, washing the machine on a hot day. Bikes are the best.

not to mention, you've found a good community with this forum.  You could do worse.

Once upon a time there was a guy named Dayrider. He was a lowly newsboy. He saved up for five years by eating only oatmeal and rice, and bought a GS500 from Gregslist. He rode it everywhere. On the city streets and treacherous mountain roads he became a lean, purposeful man. He learned the necessity of paying attention, the value of taking care of his equipment, and that a tighter fit was better than baggy. After 4000 miles on the odometer he was assigned to the OSS as a motorcycle agent on the Eastern Front. Local women could not help but notice his devil-may-care magnetism, and with an old squadron jacket and tanker's helmet he began giving them rides. One of them was a tall, striking Chilean foot model from the Israeli air force. She had curly black hair and with her long legs would bounce impatiently on the seat at stoplights. He suspected her of working for enemy intelligence and noticed she had a way of extracting information from American men. She was unattainably beautiful on an epic scale. He chased her as he would chase the receding taillights of a much faster vehicle with four sticky tires and sports suspension. She would let him pursue her, then scorn him, then let him again. She never gave in to his advances, but greatly enjoyed the attention. Always just as he reached the point of giving up for good, she would lure him back into motion with a dazzling smile or a saucy flick of her hair.

One day she disappeared completely. As the weeks passed his heartbreak and bewilderment grew. He thought for sure she'd had her cover blown and been spirited out of the country, or maybe worse. But she maintained contact in subtle ways: a chalk circle on a mailbox, a passenger pigeon with a cryptic drawing of fruits and berries.

The OSS eventually learned of this unauthorized communication and reassigned Dayrider to desk duty on the mainland, thousands of miles from the action and any potentially sensitive information. His career was over. To this day, years after the war, he remains in a windowless flourescent-lit room deep in a nameless government building, sorting used combat boots for recycling and sealing envelopes with contribution requests to the Republican Party. Late at night when he's not too exhausted he takes his GS500 on long rides and listens to the steadily increasing burr of his loosening windshield screws. When he stops to look at the stars, he thinks only of her.

Quote from: nightrider on November 21, 2007, 02:52:36 AM
Once upon a time there was a guy named Dayrider. He was a lowly newsboy. He saved up for five years by eating only oatmeal and rice, and bought a GS500 from Gregslist. He rode it everywhere. On the city streets and treacherous mountain roads he became a lean, purposeful man. He learned the necessity of paying attention, the value of taking care of his equipment, and that a tighter fit was better than baggy. After 4000 miles on the odometer he was assigned to the OSS as a motorcycle agent on the Eastern Front. Local women could not help but notice his devil-may-care magnetism, and with an old squadron jacket and tanker's helmet he began giving them rides. One of them was a tall, striking Chilean foot model from the Israeli air force. She had curly black hair and with her long legs would bounce impatiently on the seat at stoplights. He suspected her of working in foreign intelligence and noticed she had a way of extracting information from American men. She was impossibly beautiful. He chased her as he would chase the receding taillights of a much faster vehicle, with four sticky tires and sports suspension. She would let him pursue her, then scorn him, then let him again. She never gave in to his advances, but greatly enjoyed the attention. Always just as he reached the point of giving up for good, she would lure him back into the chase with a dazzling smile or a saucy flick of her hair.

One day she disappeared completely. As the weeks passed his heartbreak and bewilderment grew. He thought for sure she'd had her cover blown and been spirited out of the country, or maybe worse. But she maintained contact in subtle ways: a chalk circle on a mailbox, a passenger pigeon with a cryptic drawing of fruits and berries.

The OSS eventually learned of this unauthorized communication and reassigned Dayrider to desk duty on the mainland, far from any action and potentially sensitive information. His career for all practical purposes was over. Years after the war, he remains there in a windowless room with flourescent lights, deep in a nameless government installation, sealing envelopes with contribution requests to the Republican Party. At night when when his papercuts are dry and he's not too exhausted, he takes his GS500 on long rides and listens to the steadily increasing burr of his loosening windshield screws. 

eloquence at its brevity. 

shaZam! that's good.

Nice story. Poetic. Beautiful. Unexpected from a motorcyclists. I greatly appreciate that story though.

i've only died a couple of times so far.....good thing the meat wagon is only 1 min away at the track. and has a crash cart.

street
I crashed a CB360T in 1984 picked it up, rode home, changed my clothes and went to the bus stop.
then got sent home for grossing out everybody with blood oozing out of my hands

fixed it and rode the rest of high school when the weather was nice

Good thread folks!

To me motorcycling boils down to a new EXPERIENCE. Isn't that what we live for? Something new, something exciting, something to remember. To me it started at 37 y.o. (some say mid-life crisis?) but I am so happy I did it. I enjoy every minute of it. And I joke with my colleagues in the office "There are two good things already happen to me today -- my ride in, and my after-work ride back home." And they dig it. I smile walking in.

Granted we are into the sport where price for a mistake is higher. That's it. Accept it. Is it too big of a deal? How many other activities are more dangerous than motorcycling? Many many more. Skydiving, climbing, ice hockey, skiing, pro skating, etc, etc. But many people do it and enjoy it. So do we.

Learn your sport, your machine. Don't loose your head and stay focused. Always SEE (Search, Evaluate, Execute) on the bike. And you'll be fine!! Believe in yourself.

I started riding about 4 years ago. 

When I started riding, it was more of a suicidal impulse than anything else.  I was drinking a lot, on antidepression meds, and my therapist had basically given up on me.  I bought my first bike (a 2k1 Ninja 250) from a neighbor, figuring maybe I could save some gas, and hey, if I get in a wreck, at least I will be dead.

From the first ride, my life started to change. 

I took it for a spin around the neighborhood, and found that I couldnt stop smiling (bizzare, I dont smile.  Even now, im just not a smiling person).  My face actually hurt afterwards.  I parked it in the driveway, walked inside, and for the first time in over two years, went to bed without drinking.

And it was all downhill from there.  Everyday was an excuse to ride my bike.  I started doing research on it (ninja250.org for the win!), and riding in general (sportbikes.net again, for the win!).  I bought a helmet, a jacket and some gloves.  I took the MSF.  I rode it every single day.  At the two month mark, I sold my car.  I stopped drinking completely after about six months.  Stopped going to my therapist a month later, and stopped taking prozac. 

Eventually, my beloved Ninja250 died, and I found this wonderful forum while looking for a bike.  I picked up a 96 gs500 off a forum member here, and have been riding it for about a year now. 

Riding changed my life.  If I hadnt started, maybe I would have found something else.  But I don't know if anything would be able to give me that zen like happiness that motorcycling does.

I have had a number of close calls over the years, however after each one I go back and replay it in my mind of what I could have done to have not been in that situation...

Quote from: richreid on November 28, 2007, 11:07:36 AM


Riding changed my life.  If I hadnt started, maybe I would have found something else.  But I don't know if anything would be able to give me that zen like happiness that motorcycling does.

Check out The Power Of Now by Eckhart Tolle. It sounds boring but the stuff in it is very practical re zen like happiness. I can't read the other eastern religion stuff.

I'm glad you found your happy place Rich...good story. I hope you continue riding for many years to come.

I survived all of my crashes... that is enough to be happy about.

**** happy story follows ****

99% of my rides on the gs end happy. 1%  I caused to be non-fun. The machine is a blast. Almost 20k miles without major incident.

same percentages for my pedal bike experiences. I'm pretty sure I have 30k or so miles in my 'roadie' years and another 1-2k as a kid.

I love my gs.

****Here's a happy story****

Sid (my only, and son) gets cranky in the afternoons. 1 1/2 years old and playing all day will do it to you. He likes to dance on the hood of my truck and beat out a melody on the gs's tank. He'll squeeze the tank and lean in to flip the key cover on the gas filler. Sometimes he'll grab the noisy grip and twist it. I think about him when I'm riding and pay a little more attention. Maybe he'll hate it or never be allowed on it by my better half. It makes keeping the maintenance up alot more fun knowing that if I don't expire on the gs, he'll have it for his first motorcycle. It's good enough for my first ride, and I waited 34 years.

Thank you all for the great stories