I've never driven a motorcycle before. Scooters yes, and very badly, but never a motorcycle. So when I had to sidle up next to one for the American Motorcycle Association's basic rider course, I was quaking inside.
It was a rather nice look Kawasaki, smoke gray and a low rider.
In fact, all of the bikes were rather nice looking, especially for a course that was filled with novices of all ages, only one of whom I had any confidence in ... and that wasn't me.
There were about 40 people total in the class for the classroom sessions and they split us up for the two-day practical course, which fell on the hottiest, muggiest day of the summer. Literally so hot, that when I took off my jacket and helmet I looked like I'd jumped in a swimming pool because I was soaked in sweat.
That heat, coming off the pavement, the bike and just the air in general, made it hard to concentrate and made my fears worse. How was I going to get through this?
So many times I was frustrated and wanted to just drop the bike and walk away.
The bike scared me, mostly because it was about three times my weight and I just couldn't fathom balancing the thing. (Believe me, the scooter I ended up buying is much, much lighter, despite being a very solid Yamaha 125 cc).
I wasn't the only one intimidated by the size of it. An older couple had decided to take the class together and neither of them seemed very confident, especially after the woman, when instructed to kick up the kickstand and mount it, dropped it sideways into a fence.
Heck, we hadn't even been told how to start the bikes and they were already getting banged up.
The class itself is built perfect for new riders. Whoever designed it recognized that motorcycling cannot be picked up easily, like driving a car. You really need to be instructed on every aspect of the bike. How it turns, how it runs, all of it, extremely important to know if you want to have any confidence or capability when you ride it.
And considering that some of my classmates had gotten ahead of themselves and already purchased bikes they had no idea how to ride, it was essential to go over everything.
They make you power walk them before you ever pick up your feet, just to get a feel for the throttle. It helped because the one thing I thought I would do (Fred Flinstone the bike) I ended up not even thinking about.
It was way easier than the old Geely which had such a rough throttle that I was constantly putting my feet down to steady myself because the throttle was so inconsistent in starting the bike.
I was actually very nervous on my last day there because one of my class members showed up with a brand-new chopper, and just like the rest of us he was still wobbling all over the parking lot on the class bike.
Riding on a parking lot is nothing like riding on the street. I knew that already, but knowing how nervous I was about turning around in a parking lot made me even more nervous thinking about how I was supposed to take the bike out on the road at some point in my motorcycling life.
Focusing on what I was doing was taking up most of my energy during class, and it was doubly hard when I had to pay attention to what my classmates were doing. I thought I was atrocious through the whole thing, but I just wasn't focusing on what others were doing, and I got to see their progress when we all lined up for testing that Sunday afternoon.
All of my class mates were really nice people: fathers, mothers, girlfriends, boyfriends, laborers, guys just wanting to see if they could do what I suppose is considered a typical guy thing.
None of them struck me as being bikers though, even the fellow who already was riding and who probably did the best out of all of us.
No hard attitudes. Just smiles, nervous laughter and all wondering "Are we cut out for this?"
I think the most embaressing thing would have been to fail that end test. I had almost lost it earlier in the day when I froze during the figure 8s. I had real trouble keeping the bike balanced cause I was going to slow and that was a result from my fears of rocketing off the course and into a car or a tree.
In fact someone in the earlier class had done just that and when I showed up that Sunday afternoon there were clumps of dirt and grass stuck to the right side of my bike and hanging off the mirror.
Later I learned that a second person had wiped out and scraped up the whole side of another bike in that first class. I theorize that it may have been the two friends who came to class because they felt if it was something they could do they should do it. (Bad way to look at this).
But even the black fellow from a foreign country who forgot to pull in the clutch while he braked and successively mashed down on the throttle (almost rocketing off) passed the class.
Though I wouldn't want to see any of them on the road.
I think I passed with flying colors, though I did have to stick out my foot on one of the loops of my figure 8, which I did really well in the test despite freaking out in practice.
Am I ready for the road? Not the highway, that's for sure. And as I watched the one over confident biker ride of and turn very sloppily in front of us (as we drove in a car), I knew not everyone who gets a permit should be using it right away.
But I know if I need to I can pick up a motorcycle and ride it. I even got used to the shifter and kind of miss it now that I've opted for a scooter.
I will likely take the class again. But as for riding an "angry chopper" on Philly's deadly highways, I doubt it. I'll stick to the streets of Pottstown.
It's hard enough minding me, but the real threat out there is other drivers.
