Truth in Motorcycling

I've come not to expect Truth. It's best that way. We humans shade the Truth too much too often to rely on it.

But there is a form of Truth that can be relied on. It's not the human kind, and it's not the kind seen in animals, domestic or otherwise. Although anything from the latter is definitely more Truthful than, say, George Bush telling us war was his 'tool of last resort'.

The form of Truth in which I can trust is the one that lies within the dynamics of skilled physical activity. For some this is golf, for others skiing, or soccer, or gymnastics, or baseball. For me this is mainly riding a motorcycle at speed.

Every input to a motorcycle's controls, every move or twitch of the rider, has a predictable effect, based on physics (at the core of it) and on the engineering of the machine, as well as the talent and fitness of the rider. When I push the right handlebar forward, the bike turns right. Pushed left, the bike goes left. This 'countersteering' is contrary to expectation, but one of the great Truths of motorcycling.

When I am on my motorcycle and we approach a curve in the road, I know there is a best path around that curve. There's Truth in the geometry of it. It's also true that I won't take the best path. I'll want to, and try to, but my skills will usually let me down. Just a little. Enough to make it safely around with no drama, but the Truth of my getting it wrong will still be clear. It will also be clear to anyone riding with me, and another Truth of motorcycling is they will let me know about it when we stop. This is one case where human Truth coincides and can be relied upon.

A motorcycle is a machine of essence. It's visceral and expects you to meld with it as one functioning entity. It's not just You, it's the 'You/Motorcycle' that turns and brakes and accelerates and leans. It's the purest form of teamwork, and another Truth of motorcycling is that bad things happen when that bond fails or is disrupted.

When riding, thinking about the fight with the wife, or the boss's belittling comment, or even something positive and pleasant like a great movie, or your last ride, can get you into deepest trouble. Approaching a turn with your mind elsewhere leaves the bike without it's most critical partner's full attention. An input too late, too abrupt, or too ineffective can have you in the trees, over a cliff, or into an oncoming truck. And that's painful Truth.

But I guess that's why I ride motorcycles, to feel the Truth, even knowing it might end in tears. There are other reasons: motorcycles require a level of skill, and that's a challenge; there's a little bravery, a bit of gutsiness involved, and that's exciting; but for me it's mostly because the act of riding is a Truthful experience. When the human kind of Truth starts to carve out a hollow in my soul, a fast ride on a good bike can fill it back in.