The refreshing freedom, the solitude, the involving focus and the ultimate thrill of being one with the machine are all parts of the amazing experience that make up the rich adventure that is riding a motorcycle. And for that, when the ride is right, it’s an experience that’s difficult to match.
But with those positives comes the need to respect every ride, and it’s no coincidence, these are the words used by the Waka Kotahi NZ Transport Agency in its current motorcycle advertising campaign. The sad part is about motoring and motorcycling is that risk is also a part of it, and sometimes the words aren’t as kind or forgiving.
“Two guys died last week on our bikes.”
It was a hell of a way to start a conversation, but also a way of getting the message across of being safe and respecting the roads and the ride, via part warning, part plea.
Riding bikes has always been something I’ve shared with my father, Barry. And we’d made the flight to the South Island to explore it by two wheels. This was more than a decade ago now, when I owned an Italian superbike, a magnificent machine to ride - at least in short bursts. After an hour, the aches and pains and numbness were a reminder this was no tourer. Which is why, for this adventure, we hired a couple of large German tourers. Far more comfortable and like riding an armchair in comparison, they were brilliant for touring and probably faster than an Italian race bike, too, lacking the need to stop every 45 mins for a wrist stretch and a downward dog to refresh the bloodflow.
The first couple of days had dad and I working our way through Central Otago which included a ride what I would call the smiliest road in NZ, The Crown Range. If you were to award a road purely on its merits of smiles per mile, the Crown Range is 10 out of 10. We duelled our way through the twisties and we rode to dizzying heights above Gibbston Valley, before winding down into Wanaka.
With cars dominating much of my working association with DRIVEN, it was such an amazing experience to feel the elements: when Mazda launched the MX-5, its catchphrase was "jinba ittai", unity of horse and rider – which admittedly works much better on a bike.
That night, my dad regaled me with hours of stories about the history of the Homer Tunnel, a 1.2km stretch that opened up sealed access to Milford Sound - which all became relevant and real when the v-twin engines purred their way through a tunnel that had been dug by men with shovels. Dad also told me the Milford Sound is the only place in the world that gets better when it rains – which it did for the next four days.
And with my history and knowledge as a weatherman, this was rain like I’d never experienced. At a glacier café, the local shop owners emptied his rain gauge for the second time that day. Rivers were threatening bridges. The hills had burst alive with waterfalls. And we were stuffing newspapers down the front of our riding gear for some relief from the giant west coast front that was threatening to steal the joy from our dream trip. We were sodden, but loving it – every moment and minute.
The weather broke as we crossed over New Zealand’s backbone and made our way to the warm yet still wet relief of the Hanmer Springs hot pools, a contrast to the metre of rain we’d ridden through over the past few days, but offering another motorcycle related pleasure. My dad said he was wetter than an otter’s pocket. He cracked that joke a lot.
Despite the weather, maybe even because of it, we were having a great experience, and despite dad’s weary jokes, he’d always prided himself on safety, and worked from a very simple three-strike system. For example, if the road is wet, that’s a strike. If you have a pillion passenger, that’s a strike. If you’re not 100 per cent familiar with the bike you’re riding, that’s another strike.
Any factor that adds risk to the ride is a strike, and it’s a system I still use today. It’s such a simple way of mitigating risk on the ride, and can relate to personal aspects or elements, like the mechanical condition of the bike, worn tyres, having a passenger, not wearing protective gear or having the right gear, or simply feeling tired. And like baseball, three strikes and the ride is out.
After a lovely warm swim in the Hanmer hot pools and some reflection on one of the wettest but most satisfying rides we have ever endured, we returned our bikes to the rental shop – the owner pleased with our safe return.
Respecting each ride may not always come naturally, but with a few simple reminders and methods, it’s simply the easiest way to ensure every ride, from daily commute to overland experiences, is a rewarding one – and that’s what motorcycling is all about.