Good news. Bad news. Excellent news:
I know – usually it’s just the juxtaposed “good news, bad news” but that would be too easy (and not work with the story I lay before you!). I left off with my Charlie Brown bike (see images). That’s good news. We loaned the bike back to the original owner for a day at the track. He crashed it – fixable with time and money – but I was grounded for now. That’s the bad news. But my MSF class and potential endorsement was right around the corner! And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the excellent news!
Mid-August felt like ages away but by the time I had my bike (and lost it again), had my gear in hand and was ready to take the class, August had arrived! Saturday dawned bright and early – well, more early than bright. I had a 90 plus minute drive and had to be there by 8am. You say “crazy” I say “determined”. Somewhere in the middle is a line I refuse to acknowledge. I had loaded my gear in the car the night before and with bottled water in-hand, I was on the road before I was fully awake. I was the first one to the range/classroom and for a brief moment, was sure I had the wrong place, the wrong date, or possibly both! I read my MSF booklet while I waited for someone, anyone else to arrive. The first instructor came swinging around the corner on his enormous Goldwing. I followed him as he unlocked the classroom and I found a place at one of the tables.
I was nervous – my dream was on the line and while I was 99% certain that I wouldn’t have a problem passing this weekend’s adventure, there was still 1% uncertainty. The other students filtered in as well as a second instructor. Our morning was to be spent in the classroom – teaming up to study and use team presentation to demonstrate chapters to each other and learn from not only our presentations, but the presentation of the other teams. It was a well-organized format and the morning flew by.
We emerged into blazing heat at noon with instructions on how to get to the “range” (some of you might recognize it better as the Mall Parking Lot!). In either case – it was where we would learn how to ride! We were promised obstacles, swerving, braking and threatened with U-turns. I had breezed through the classroom portion but was nervous about my performance on the range. And amazingly, my nerves got worse as I walked onto the range with my gear in hand. (I was NOT comforted by the instructor’s off the cuff comment that I didn’t need to get on a bike to pass, my looks were, apparently, more than enough. Chauvinism I chose to ignore.)
I walked over to the bikes, relieved that they were indeed small enough for me to touch flat footed on either side. Honda Rebels – 250cc’s of raw power! (or NOT as I later discovered). Being the perennial class clown, I immediately went for the ugliest bike. Or maybe it was what I was used to, having left Charlie Brown at home in pieces in the garage. We all stood next to our chosen bikes and the hands on portion began.
The class started from ground zero: Repeat information for some of us, new material for others. Essential in either case. For the remainder of the day we learned how go, how to stop, how to maneuver, and the ever elusive u-turn. We tried to stay within the lines, follow the rider in front of us and generally be vigilant and do as we were instructed. My heart was pounding the entire time.
My biggest fear was dropping the bike. During the classroom portion, it was emphasized to us that if we dropped a bike on the range, our MSF experience was over for the weekend. For most of the students, that didn’t mean much more than postponing their endorsement. For me it meant postponing my dream. The pressure was on.
And then it happened. The bike stalled in a corner and I very nearly dropped it! You see, in picking the ugliest bike (for comedy sake – really!) I also unknowingly chose the poorest running bike. I was adjusting the best I could but the bike was stalling without throttle. The idle was too low. Or maybe the bike was just tired. I would be too if I only ever dealt with amateurs. The instructor did his best to be helpful – but he assumed the problem was with me. Frustrated, I insisted HE ride the bike I was on. Only then did he realize where the problem really lay. I was doing fine, it was the bike! Sheepishly, they asked if I wanted to keep dealing with the issue and continue the class or if I would rather take the class another weekend. “forge ahead” was my answer. And forge ahead I did.
I made it through the rest of the afternoon and managed to drag myself back down for the second day – a full day on the range. I was happy to start earlier as the temperatures of the day before had been unbearable. Add full gear to that and I was a walking sauna. Sunday was more of the same: long sweeping turns, emergency braking, quick and tight cone work and more of the U-turn box.
That box still gives me jitters. Let me try to explain: The rectangular box has just enough room to enter on the far corner of the short side, cross the middle to the opposite corner, lean and turn towards the next corner, cross the middle, repeat lean and turn exercise and exit the box opposite of where you entered. A figure eight in limited space. Get all that? Neither did I. I never did perfect it – figured I would take the hit of crossing lines over dropping the bike and hoped to make up for the points by acing the rest of the exam. That turned out to be a solid plan. I still dread U-turns and am thankful they’re not a part of racing!
There are several days in my life that I relive in my memory on a regular basis: the birth of my children, the day of my divorce, my first date with Louie and the day I passed my MSF class. I can’t rank them – don’t ask me to – but I remember them each with an huge grin and excitement remembered – they’re all starting points of great things in my life. I told my instructor that day that the certificate he gave me was a very important step to my racing – he more than doubted me. If I could track him down, I would make him eat his words: With an endorsement behind me, the dream was not far off!
The women’s moto movement is thriving in the two-stroke world. Yep, scooter sales continue to rise along with their four-stroke counterparts. And women are climbing aboard their own scooters in droves just like motorcycles. In “scoot” world, women have created an impressive network of web sites, riding clubs, forums, and rallies? That’s right. Scooter rallies apparently are all the rage, and women riders have organized their own ultra-hip versions. Take for example the 2005 All Girls Scooter Rally (AGSR) in Florida, where mimosa breakfast, XM radio dance parties and girlee scooter games were all apart of the itinerary. Think we’re starting to feel a wee bit jealous… 
