I watched him, 200 feet away, threading his way through the few cars in the near-empty parking lot. He would have to make a turn soon. Which gear was he in? Was he using the brakes? He seemed to be slowing down OK. He went through the turn and started heading across to the right, picking up speed. He looked really big on the bike, wearing one of my jackets. I wondered if I looked like that on the bike. I wondered about the lump in my throat.
Better start thinking about what I’m doing. What should I tell him next? What does he need to know? What do you need to know to ride a motorcycle? He had made another turn and was heading back towards me. It looked like he was coming in. He had a bit of trouble slowing down, not because he was going fast – he’s a very careful guy – but just because slowing down can be tricky when your riding experience can be measured in minutes.
He stuttered to a stop in front of me, pulling in the clutch just quickly enough to avoid chain snatch. Should I try to explain chain snatch? How do you explain chain snatch? I don’t even really understand chain snatch. Starting off and stopping can be tricky to begin with, can’t it? Even when you’ve been riding for years, starting off and stopping can be tricky. Add just a little complication, a bit of a slope, a loose surface, unfamiliar surroundings, and …
That was it for today. I climbed on the front, and he climbed on the back. The little GB400 was having to work hard with both of us on board now. Ten years ago he was so light, and so good on the back, that one day coming up the big bend of the hill on the way home, I actually put my hand back there to see if he was still with me. As we set off for home, he yelled in my ear “How long does it take before you can ride well?” I yelled back “Four or five years, maybe more. Some people never learn to ride well.” And instantly I thought to myself, “That wasn’t the right answer.”
A few days later, working on the Paso, I thought I had a better answer. So I rang him up – he lives at his mums place down the road – and said “You know when you asked me how long it takes to learn to ride well? Well, I think I gave you the wrong answer. I think the right answer is, it might take a year or so till you start to feel good about your riding” He said “Ok, yeah, I see” and I felt a bit better. He knows I don't always explaining things properly the first time. I went back to the Paso with tears in my eyes. It’s so important to me, William learning to ride. If he ever does make it onto a real road, riding along with me, it will be the climax of forty years of riding for me. To feel that elastic band of love between us, vibrating, stretching and pulling, to see our movements mirrored …
I’m not pushing him to do this. I try not to push him to do anything. I only want him to do it if he wants to – and his mum doesn’t want him to ride a motorcycle, but we can handle that – so it’s by no means a sure thing. But it is looking surer all the time. We’ve had a couple more lessons since, and they’ve gone OK.
My dad only taught me one thing when I was a boy – but it was something that’s been incredibly useful to me: the clove hitch knot. If you want to tie a rope to something, and trust your life to the knot, the clove hitch will do it. He didn’t seem to want to teach me anything else – he didn’t seem to like me. I’m so glad we had those years living together before he died, so we could learn to like each other, and make things OK. I am making sure, dead sure, things are different and better, much better, with William and me, and if I can bring motorcycling into that better picture for us, that’ll be great.
Motorcycling’s such a wonderful thing. It’s a moving thing, a fluid thing. You’re always learning. And I love learning. It’s just that I hate being taught (I was expelled from college). Maybe that’s got something to do with dad not wanting to teaching me anything. And why teaching William to ride is so important, just as it’s been so important to teach him, teach him, teach him without pushing him, since he was a little baby, lying in his cot, and I started teaching him understand and to talk. He says he can remember – and he was two months old – feeling and hearing “SQUEEZE the little finger, SQUEEZE the little toe”.
Motorcycling’s such a wonderful thing. It’s like life. Like in that Texan’s work Faster posted in Aiming for the Apex, “A moment to reflect on what we do.”
The best way to go around a corner is with the power on. The power on from the instant you turn in. But you can’t do that every time. So you have to learn other ways.
