An Incompleat Guide: Nonmotorcyclists And You
AN INCOMPLEAT GUIDE: NONMOTORCYCLISTS AND YOU
HUMOR
Talk to 'em — that's the most fun ...
DOC HELENE KLEIN
IT'S TRUE, isn't it? Much of your motorcycling enjoyment comes from motorcycle talk. You like to compare notes with other riders, and you like to talk to nonmotorcyclists about the great fun of our sport.
You look for opportunities to discuss all the various aspects of motorcycling. And you're happy when you get a chance to use the technical information you get from your faithful reading of CYCLE WORLD.
But even if a hot debate at the club or your dealer's shop is the most interesting cycle talk you might engage in, you'll have to admit it's not always the most fun. No, not by a long shot. It's not even near being the most fun.
The most fun—if your experiences are anything like ours-you find in your talks with nonmotorcyclists.
Who hasn't met the following people in one form or another?
Motorcycles-are-dangerous Type: "Guess those things are fun, but you'd never get me on one!"
"Really? Why?"
"Had a buddy break his leg in two places on one of those things. Yep, back in '47 when him and me used to room together. He was coming home from the local bar with, I guess, a few too many in him when he hit ice or somethin' and slammed into a tree. Broke his right leg so bad it took all year to heal. Poor guy walked around on crutches for the longest time."
"Say, that's too bad. I'm really sorry to hear that. By the way, did you ever see anyone get hurt in an automobile accident?"
"Huh? What was that?"
"An automobile. Did you ever see anyone get hurt in one of those?"
"Sure, plenty'a guys. Some real gruesome ones, as a matter of fact."
"Really, now. That's very interesting-very interesting. You don't own a car by any chance, do you?"
"Sure I own a car. It's sit'n right over there. Hey, what'a you driving at, anyway?"
"Nothing, nothing at all. Well, see you around." Motorcyclist's Friend or Relative: "My granddaughter just got one of those motorbikes. She's at college, you know, and she says motorbikes are just grand for the campus. She uses hers to go from her sorority house to her classes. Hers is just like yours. I have a picture of her on it. Would you like to see it?"
"Yes, of course."
The college girl in the picture you're shown is smiling happily astride a Harley-Davidson M 50. You're on a Bonneville Triumph, so you say, "Her 'motorbike' is almost like mine, but there is a slight difference."
"Oh, really? What's that?"
"Well, you see, hers was made in Italy; mine was made in England."
"Oh, so that's the difference! When I write to my granddaughter I'll tell her I met a young man with a motorbike almost like hers. But just almost, because his was made by English people and hers by Italian people. It's been so nice talking to you, young man. Thank you for telling me the difference."
"You're welcome," you say, deciding that the old woman probably wouldn't have known what 650 cc were, anyway. Besides, you kind of like the idea of riding a "motorbike" just like the girls at the sorority house.
Old-Timer: Then there are the old-timers. They're fun to talk to because, if they're inactive and not following the magazines, they often think motorcycle technology stopped the day they hung up their kidney belts and placed their high-laced boots in the corner. They're sure the motorcycle was fully developed the day they stopped riding.
The conversation goes something like this: "Say, that's a mighty fine-looking lightweight you kids got there. It's one of those English jobs, ain't it?"
"No, sir, it's Japanese. It's a Suzuki Hustler."
"Oh, I see. But have you kids ever been on a big, fast job? Used to have a Henderson Four, myself. Now that was a machine. With those four bangers she could cruise all day at 70 miles per."
"Really?"
"You bet! Never had the nerve to really open 'er up all the way, but I'll bet she could push 100."
"Yea, bet she was really fast."
"Yes siree. But they tell me these little dinky bikes you kids are riding these days really got it, too. Bet this little job you're on could almost hold its own even with my old Henderson Four. Probably cruise the pike all day at almost 60, huh?"
"Almost," you say. After all, why should you and a Suzuki ruin an old-timer's day?
Economy Seeker: You and your girl are out for a spin on your new lightweight. On it, you look like one of the couples pictured these days in the national magazines-you know, the "nicest people," the ones who "have all the fun."
You stop for a traffic light at a busy city intersection. While listening to the muffled snap of your 90-cc engine and watching the people cross the street, you hardly notice the '54 Buick stopped next to you.
The driver of the big car studies your machine carefully, looking like someone who wants to talk.
You and your girl obviously look as friendly as the smiling couples in the ads because he starts talking:
"Hey, how far can one'a dem tings go on a full tank'a gas?"
The car's rusted muffler doesn't let you hear the question the first time. You cup your hand to your ear and shout, "What?"
"Dem little motorcycles. How far do dey go on a full tank?"
You'd like to tell him, but the truth is that you gas up so seldom you never think to check your mileage. But you know you're getting at least 100 mpg, so you say, "I don't really know. I guess I get 200 to 300 miles on a tankful."
The driver looks amazed. "Is zat all?! Hell, dis here gas-suck'n old Buick gets that much on a tankful wid'out even trying."
The light changes. The Buick lurches forward.
You look down at your tank packed full of less than a buck's worth of tiger and decide, "He's right. Besides, he probably wouldn't understand if I explained. After all, a full tank's a full tank."
