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==For your information, no, I don't die nor do I even crash at the end of this story...it's just another boring ol' first ride new-rider experience.==

So I went out tonight for my first real ride....I rushed home from work, bought insurance ($290 for 12 months:), printed it out, put that and new registration in my Zephyr 550, and I was off! Off to the computer, that is. I hadn't eaten since 10am, and it was 7:30pm. But I had things to do...see, I have my permit, which doesn't allow for nighttime riding. So I searched the books to find out what that violation is (just in case), which seems to be an infraction, which is considered a violation of city ordinance and is a civil case only involving a fine. Ok, I might die anyway, so I'll risk it. However, let me know if I'm wrong! I don't want a misdimeanor.

I smell like gasoline.

I started the thing up, checked for leaks, put the choke on, left it to idle while I got my helmet (bike still locked to a post), put on my gloves and helmet, and was off! I was alert, and I knew the roads I was going on well.

I got out on the road, and flat-footed the orchards of stopsigns that grow outside my aparment complex. My helmet was fogging up like a misty mountain hop, so kept it open or cracked. After the fourth stopsign, I had a car behind me, and was a bit nervous so I winkered over to the right and let them all pass. I came up to a main road with a lot of traffic (45mph), and pulled out and was on my way, and completed a U-turn shortly thereafter to get to my friends house. His empty house, anyway. I check over my bike, and I'm off again. Around the empty backroads I run.

My first funny car encounter was like this-each line happening concurrently within itself:
car-slow and stop, me sloow and stop
car-GO, me GO Woops!
CARSTOP! MESTOP!
<pause>
Car edge out a bit, me-go, me stall
MESTOP
CARSTOP!
I wave and wave as I back up with my legs, and after a few hours, the car is finally on its way.

Yesterday I leaked out 2 gallons of gas because of my ignorance of a vacuum petcock, so I drive to a gas station. At the stoplight, a GIGANTIC pickup pulls up behind me (must have been at least a Ford Ranger ). I stay in the center of the lane. I spend a long while getting gas and buying oil. I put in half a quart, and note that I can't put the container in the "glove" box or whatever that taillight section toothbrush case thing is called. I leave it next to the trashcan. Someone could use it. But unspoken blood of mine boiled after getting my gear on, so I hopped over my bike and shoved the thing up my shirt. Good to know I have room to do all that drinking and riding I was planning.

I get home and check the bike over, and start walking back to my apartment. BUT.....then, I turn around.

I ride to my second and final member of my band's house, which was empty. I was planning on asking him where the first member was. I'm off again.
This time, I practice emergency braking, and lock up the rear tire for a millisecond at 20mph or so. I let it go right away, but I knew that at a faster speed, that could mean a spill. I'm gonna practice more. AGAIN against better judgement, I took it to 50mph, and WOW, that feels really fast. I feel like I'm being lifted out of my seat a bit, so I need to figure out my posture.

I finally get back home, safe, sound, and blitheringly happy. I practiced swerving, braking, u turns, turns, backing up, and being alert. ALL the cars I saw were very curteous, curtesy of a small college town. I know I need to be careful, and I do my best. It will be a lot more dangerous in other areas that I will ride in.

The rush! The ****ING FUN! Not like the unconscious barbaric snarl of a 45 minute hardcore punk rock set, but more like a slow burning cigarette. That leans into the turns. You know that feeling you have as a kid or (if you're like me) as an adult that you want to fly? I feel like that's what I was doing. No one was there to do it with me, no one supremely special is in my lonely life, and no one was back at home waiting for me. But flying is worth it.

-I'm damn hungry.

well it looks like you had a fun time riding and writing this. lol. I dont ever remember feeling this excited on my first ride.. but Ill tell you about it.

so it was October I believe. I still had one month till my MSF but my bike was coming. The website said that it would be there a particular Thursday. I asked the truck driver to put the crate in my garage. so it came, and I unpacked it and set it up. took about 5 hours

I had no idea how to ride it so that night I joined this forum and I looked on about.com on how to start it.

So the next day I went riding. So I had the whole FINE-C and the slowly release clutch thing. I had on my full face mountain bike helmet, boots, winter jacket, jeans, knee pads, elbow pads, shinguards, spine protector, and heavy duty gloves. Yeah i dont feel like explaining the rest but it was pretty fun. =D

Congrats on the first ride. Highway speeds are a real experiance for the new rider. Going 60mph seems more like 120 and it feels like your gonna fly off the bike. But you'll get used to it. Keep practicing the MSF maneuvers and ride safe.

Dang, The549, you make it sound better than sex. My first ride was all work, no play. My cousin went over the side of a mountain and broke himself up pretty good. The rescue people carried him down the stream and roped him down a waterfall, no way that bike was going downhill. I was told to get the bike back to the house. No instruction, to manual, just figure out how to do it. It took the better part of a day and a couple dozen crashes to ride that sucker the 100 or so yards up the mountain to the road, but by the time I got there I was an "experienced" rider. All the work was worth it, though, because once I got out on the road and up to speed I felt that same sense of high you did.

Great story.

You'll quickly become amazed at how much stuff you can shove inside your jacket and still ride.

qwerty wrote:Dang, The549, you make it sound better than sex. My first ride was all work, no play. My cousin went over the side of a mountain and broke himself up pretty good. The rescue people carried him down the stream and roped him down a waterfall, no way that bike was going downhill. I was told to get the bike back to the house. No instruction, to manual, just figure out how to do it. It took the better part of a day and a couple dozen crashes to ride that sucker the 100 or so yards up the mountain to the road, but by the time I got there I was an "experienced" rider. All the work was worth it, though, because once I got out on the road and up to speed I felt that same sense of high you did.

Hopefully your cousin was ok? That sounds like a challenge! And good thing the bike made it all in one piece.

qwerty wrote:Dang, The549, you make it sound better than sex

Oh and that was a mistake on my part then.

But after reading my post on my first ride (motorcycle ride), you probably wouldn't want me to get into that.

Uh, my cousin survived, but he had a little problem with the bottle and a couple years later passed out while cruising down the interstate about 80mph on a full dress CB750K2, drifted off the road, and hit a bridge abutement.

The SL100 survived with nary a scratch, on;y because the entire slope was covered in a thick layer of wet leaves. It served me well for a couple years, eventually becoming a 100cc flattracker. Later, it was returned to the street with a stroker and Yoshimura head, then a stroked XL125 engine with a Yoshimura top end, CB450 carb, a Bassani exhaust, the fender dropped to a fork brace, drag bars, and street tires.

Boy does this bring back memories.
On my first ride, bringing the bike home from the dealers, I must have stalled that thing out 5 times. The six guys that were with me were NOT impressed.
Thanks!