Since 1974 when I was a girl of 5, over 8,000,000 people have taken the MSF rider courses, which is an average of about 400,000 annually. Locally, the courses fill up quickly (of course, full is 12 people), so I can feel a bit rarefied to be included in this club. I took the course this past weekend having never been on a motorcycle; that’s right, never, not even perched upon the seat. My first touch of a motorcycle was a 1991 Kawasaki Eliminator—with carburetor–and, to answer the most important question running through everyone’s mind, I did NOT drop it. Nope, not once. But since no one in the class dropped their bikes, I should credit the instructors more than any latent skill on my part.
Working through the course helps one to realize why not a lot of people sign up. What’s surprising about the course is just how much hard work it is. Some part of my brain deceived me into thinking it couldn’t be too hard since we never went above 20 mph nor out of second gear. Slow and steady equals easy, right? Hah! From the moment I felt the 350 pounds, I realized that this was going to be hard work. And it was. We mounted the bikes and learned the difference between neutral and first gear, and then we unmounted the bikes and pushed them to the parking lot that was our training course. How much weight do you put on that sled thing at the gym? Granted the bike has wheels, but it is still heavy and still a workout to push it. I am glad I started lifting weights three years prior so I had some upper body strength to assist me. And in case you were wondering, I was one of only 2 women in the class—myself and Tisha.
Now why was I taking the MSF course? Have I not lived on this earth for 50+ years perfectly fine never riding a motorcycle? Couldn’t I go for another 50? Apparently not. A few years back I began dating a wonderful man who, among many, many things, rode motorcycles. Not when I met him, but he had owned motorcycles on and off through the years since he was 13 years old. Yes, 13 kids because some of us grew up with parents who subscribed to the theory that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. But anyway, my boyfriend and I talked about motorcycles and I expressed my interest in learning to ride. So for one of my birthdays, he offered to pay for the MSF course for me. And, like so much in life, it became “one of these days, we’ll . . . “ and perched itself on the back burner of my life’s stove.
A few years later, my boyfriend’s was in search of a distraction; he began tuning into motorcycle videos on Youtube. We began watching together and came across many of the popular channels such as MotoBob, the Missenden Flyer, HerTwoWheels, Revzilla and, my favorite, Itchy Boots. And we revisited the idea of taking the MSF course together. I learned that while he had listened to my expressed interest in riding a motorcycle, he wasn’t sure I really meant it. The MSF course was the touchstone. Was I a rider or wasn’t I? My feedback from the MSF would reveal all. The planets aligned and we managed to get in a class close to home and on a beautiful, still-springtime weekend.
If you’re like me and have never set derriere on a motorcycle, then I recommend you find a friend, find a dealer, find someone or somewhere to go and get a feel for the bike. Ideally, sit on a friend’s bike and work on coordinating the clutch, throttle, and the brakes. I was the “loud” student in class who kept rolling the throttle when I was simply adjusting the handlebars because I had not developed throttle coordination practicing on my beach cruiser (bike). But I do recommend practicing on your bike. Your bike can help you learn to look where you want to go especially with turning your head on the U-turns of the dreaded box. I also practiced wearing my helmet while riding my bike to get a feel for the weight and the impact on my peripheral vision. So even though I was a motorcycle newbie, because I listened to my boyfriend’s advice, I was able to function fairly well on the motorcycle in class.
Another pre-class benefit was watching some of the MSF course videos to be found on Youtube. Of particular benefit to me were the videos uploaded by Blockhead, but with the plethora out there, you’re sure to find something helpful. I avoided the videos about the mistakes you could make; I was only looking for positive reinforcements. I did enjoy Yammie Noob’s “7 People You Meet at Your MSF Course” because during the lulls, I played identify the 7 game. I, of course, was not one of them
For the MSF test, our first obstacle was the dreaded box. I was super stressing about it because I wanted more practice time to determine if I did better in first or second gear. But it was rubber hit the road time, and no more practice. I weaved out of the box 3 times but did not put a foot down nor drop the bike, so it cost me some points, but I don’t know how many. Then we did the quick swerve where, during the practice, I had clipped the delivery van once on each side. I swerved right and was told to move on, so I figured I did OK. Next we had to do the fast stop. Earlier in practice I was overwhelmed by all I had to do—shift down to first and apply both brakes. It doesn’t sound overwhelming, but when you are just learning how to shift with your foot on a bike where it sticks between gears, panic will set in. And my brake lights did not work, so the instructors were very carefully watching my right hand and foot. I told myself to breathe, relax, and trust that it would go smoothly. It seemed to, though I felt like I was a bit long on the stop. Finally, the last test, where you turn into a curve and accelerate on the way out to help upright the bike.
Slight digression here. One of the observations my boyfriend made about men on motorcycles versus women on motorcycles is that where women will proceed cautiously at a slow, steady pace, men will freely accelerate. And I observed over the two days that this was exactly the case. I and Tisha kept the bikes slow even when speed would have benefited us, whereas the men didn’t hesitate to use speed, sometimes too much.
So as we had practiced the curve, every time I was exiting the curve, I was met by Skip or Bill, the instructors, lifting both arms to indicate a need to accelerate. I didn’t like that I was “acting like a typical woman,” and I used that dislike to help push me to do what needed to be done. When the last rider on the Grom completed the final test and we were standing by our bikes in a large group, I was called over by the instructors. It was a long walk across that parking lot alone with the thought that they wanted to let me know I had failed and could jump in my car and leave in disgrace (which I couldn’t do because my boyfriend was in the class with me and needed me to drive him home). They were good, too, as they kept completely straight faces at my trepidatious approach. They had called me over to welcome me into the motorcycle riding club. They also had me order everyone to pick up the orange cones, but the big thrill was knowing I had passed and would be able to become a licensed rider!
Flutterby Biker 