Doctor's Orders

Doctor’s orders

UP FRONT

David Edwards

YOU KNOW THE STORY ONLY TOO WELL. Some health-care professional, maybe at a party, expounding loudly and long on the insanities of motorcycling. It always goes something like this:

“So you ride motorcycles, huh? You know what we call 'em, don't ya? Murder-cycles! We have a name for young, healthy motorcyclists, too. Donors! (Pause for smug laughter or wry turn of the head with raised eyebrow.) I'd never let my husband wife/ daughter/son/self ride one of those things. Just the other day in ER we had a 19-year-old come in with blah, blah, blah..." Never mind that emergency-room doctors and nurses see easily 10 times more ear-accident victims, bike riders are singled out for gruesome tales and dire warnings.

Dan Murphy, a hard-working 41year-old family-practice physician from northern California, fit the profile.

“I knew everything anyone needed to know about motorcycles," he says today. “Motorcycle riding had an unacceptably high death rate. Riders who weren't killed were often badly injured. Motorcycle riding by young people without families, preferably young people without any benefit to society, was probably acceptable. For all others, it was sheer irresponsibility."

So how is it that the good Doctor Murphy now has a brilliant red Yamaha Seca II parked in his garage, purchased new nine months ago and already showing 13,000 happy miles

on the clock?

“The best explanation my doctor friends have been able to come up with is a frontal-lobe brain tumor. The largest percentage of my non-physician friends whisper-just loudly enough to ensure that 1 overhear-theories about mid-life crisis."

While Murphy admits to typical jobrelated stress, he had no intentions of blowing off career-track steam by taking to two wheels. A chance encounter at a nearby motorcycle dealership changed all that. Murphy accompanied a friend in search of ATV parts to a bike shop, and while his pal jousted with the parts man, Murphy took a turn around the showroom. What he saw in those aisles had a profound effect.

“Those motorcycles were painted in colors that shouldn't be shown to men who have lived protected lives," he remembers. “I climbed onto a new Honda Magna 750 and began having feelings that are probably illegal in good Christian towns. The hook was set deep before I even knew 1 was in the mood for a nibble."

Back at the house, Murphy could not get motorcycles off his mind.

“I talked to myself about the many home projects that were a better place to spend my money,” he says. “I reminded myself of my only prior motorcycle ride: A 40-foot excursion on a Honda Trail 90 at age 16 that ended when I hit the broad side of a good friend's barn-something about confusing the brake and throttle. I talked to my wife, who wanted to know if I had been smoking illicit herbs."

He also re-examined his profession's seemingly built-in bias against motorcycling, realizing that “in 1 1 years of working in emergency rooms, I had actually seen curiously few motorcycle-accident victims."

Murphy did not sleep well that night, mulling over his options, but bydawn had made a decision.

“I got up in the morning and went down and bought a 600cc Yamaha Seca II, the color of which puts most fire trucks into the pastel category bycomparison.” he says with a smile.

Here, clearly, was a man in love.

“Wimpy by a canyon-carver’s standards, my little Seca could still leave any car I had ever been in sucking exhaust fumes from my flat-black 4into-2 pipes. I couldn’t stay off it. I rode a lot. Early morning, middle of the day, late at night. I rode in the heat, I rode in the fog, I rode in the rain. I rode in hail, and (this is something of an accomplishment for a Californian) 1 rode in the snow. I got frustrated when I couldn’t figure out how to carry large items (sheets of plywood, say) on my motorcycle," Murphy says.

Along with the joy of riding, though, the self-taught Murphy had some close calls. Close enough to convince him to do what he should have done in the first place: get some instruction.

“Frankly, I terrified myself a couple of times," he says. “In a concession to the reality that I had four children and a much-loved wife of 19 years, I took the Motorcycle Safety Foundation course (800/447-4700). What the hey! 1 got to spend most of two days riding around on motorcycles. Highly recommended.”

Now closing in on a year of bike ownership, Murphy shows no signs of losing interest.

“I've calmed down a little," he admits. “Damage done so far is a dent in my bank account and a skinned knee sustained in a low-speed skid on gravel. On the positive side, my reputation as a predictable, middle-age physician is shot."

A Honda Transalp currently shares garage space with his Seca, and Mrs. Murphy, who previously wanted nothing to do with her husband's newfound hobby, is now an enthusiastic passenger looking forward to doing some back road touring. Murphy couldn't be happier.

“I love being part of the loosel fined brotherhood, sisterhood of IT. cycling.” he says. “1 love the w, riders give each other as they passed love the slight air of scandal with which my riding is often treated. I love learning a new skill at age 41, and learning it well. I love knowing that what most people call a mid-life crisis is closer to what singer Kenny Loggins calls midlife clarity. Most of all.” Murphy adds, “I love riding my motorcycle."

Nice to know that in some cases, at least, a brilliant red Yamaha Seca II can be just what the doctor ordered.