At fifty-eight years of age, I decided to attend a motorcycle safety foundation course in hopes of getting a motorcycle license. I was always interested in anything with wheels. When one of my three sons said "gee-dad, lets get in on the last class of '05 and get our licenses so we're ready for the 2006 riding season!".
We found a course in Chicago. So at the end of October we signed up and drove down from the suburbs to attend our first session on a cold Saturday morning. When we arrived we found the building in an up and coming neighborhood. It was painted an interesting shade of red. We were told to arrive at 8:00 o'clock and patiently waited for the instructors to arrive. After what seemed like an eternity a helmeted young man on a sport bike arrived. He proceeded to unlock the building and we and several others anxious students entered.
Inside were jackets, helmets, gloves and accessories available for purchase. In one corner, an older Honda motorcycle with a banana seat was propped up on it's stand presumably for demonstration purposes.
Tables were set up in a horse shoe fashion. TV and VCR were present as well as stacks of textbooks. We were all anxious to start. The young man introduced himself, explained that he had several years of motorcycle experience and we in turn introduced ourselves and stated why we were interested pursuing this endeavor.
Class was scheduled to last two hours and at 10:00 A.M. we were told that we would head out to the range for "hands on" experience with motorcycles.
Class was interesting, we watched videos on safety and what to expect when operating a machine. We reviewed the textbook page by page, questions followed. We had several breaks and before long we were on our way out to the range for training.
Following the directions from the instructors, we headed south to a parking lot of a major sports facility. When we arrived, two instructors took us to a large storage container. They unlocked it, and proceeded to take out ten motorcycles. Inside helmets lined the shelves.We found our size, put it on and gathered for our first lesson. We were questioned as to what type of motorcycle we would be riding in the future and were then matched to the closest practice machine.
I ended up with a Honda Rebel (305cc), at the time, it seemed huge. "What am I doing here, I must be nuts, I'll never learn to ride that!" With a little self talk, I mounted the bike. Our first lesson included switch location and neutral position. We next started the bike. Because these bikes had carburetors we learned about fuel shutoff switches. After we started the bikes, we learned to walk them. The morning proceeded a step at a time and just before lunch we got to ride in a circle around the parking lot. It was cold, between 40 and 50 degrees, our hands were frozen and we welcomed the opportunity to go for lunch and warm up.
After lunch at a great deli, we began to complete some of the exercises that the instructors were required to present. We had to ride around in a circle and learn to jump 2x4s (simulating debris in the road). We had to drive toward an imaginary wall (instructor) who told us to turn to our left or right on their command. We had to maneuver around and through cones. We also had to accelerate and come to an abrupt halt on instructor command. Lessons both days lasted until 4:00 P.M. During the second day a student, Jim, fell. He came to class with his fiancee and wanted to get a license. She already had a Harley. He tore the knee out of his pants and cut his knee. To his credit, he bandaged his knee and resumed practice.
Near the end of the second day, we were told that on the following Friday we could take our road test at the practice site. The Secretary of State would send it's examiner and we would be charged fifty dollars for the use of the school's motorcycles and equipment. We promptly signed up.
Friday came around faster than you can imagine--temperature a brisk 38 degrees. We arrived, put on our helmets and were given 30 minutes to practice. Half way through the practice, our instructor told us that the worst and crabbiest examiner from the Secretary of State's Office would be testing us. "Don't blame us if you fail, she told us". She was 100% correct, this guy was a crab.
The whole test was to take place within a box the size of a basketball court. The only exception was the acceleration part of the test. Each individual would start outside the box and accelerate at a given signal and come to a stop within a set of lines. The wheel of your machine must not cross the end line of the box.
We were given a practice box to operate in on the other side of the parking lot. I practiced for the full 30 minutes. My hands were frozen. I was given the signal to cross over to the testing area. I rubbed my hands together, regained feeling and prepared for my road test. I was the last to be tested. I didn't know that two previous individuals went over the bars during their test. They were promptly booted from the remaining test by the state examiner.
Before I began the test, I looked at my instructor, she whispered-"focus"-I nodded in response and began the first exercise. I rode through the cones, accelerated toward the imaginary wall, accelerated through the box and came to a stop inside the box. All of which seemed to take place as time stood still.
When the final test was finished, I brought the bike to a stop and my instructor gave me a thumbs up. I had passed! This was the hardest thing I had ever done in my life.
After the test, I had to go to work. I wanted to tell my co-workers, but due to the fact that I was late, I tempered my excitement. I called my wife at her job to tell her the news. She said "What happened", I replied "I nailed it".
This all took place at the end of October 2005. During the months that followed, I visited countless numbers of motorcycle showrooms. I saw a Suzuki Boulevard C50 in a shop window. I thought "that looks like the right size for me."
Winter seemed longer than usual, I passed the time reading every motorcycle book and magazine that I could get my hands on. I rented motorcycle videos and I watched countless numbers of DVD's. I went to a large annual motorcycle show at a major exhibition hall. I sat on all of the machines from the major manufacturers. I took home what seemed to be twenty pounds of brochures. I poured over them for weeks. The snow and ice began to melt, it was getting nearer to my time of deliverance.
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