What does it take to be as good as you can be?

[doc47]

 

But all drivers spin. It comes from pushing the limits.

from The Art of Racing In The Rain by Garth Stein

 

 

When I started riding motorcycles again, and shortly before I began participating in this Board, I kept asking myself how I could become an excellent rider. I talked with other riders. I read A Twist of the Wrist, Vol. II,which taught me a great deal. I rode, and rode, and rode. I worked at cornering, at sensing the machine, at trying to feel what the tires were doing – all geometry and friction and physics.

 

The one question I kept asking, and that no one could answer, was “How can you know the limits of what you can do? How can you get the ultimate out of yourself and the bike in a corner?” The second part of that question – the inescapable corollary – is “...without falling?”

 

The answer is, you can't. You have to be willing to commit yourself to dumping yourself and the bike. There really is no other way. You can't know the limits until you've exceeded them.

 

And that's the point where automobile drivers are different from motorcycle riders, and probably pilots. You can spin an automobile and still end up sitting upright, strapped in, unscathed when the vehicle comes to rest. It is inherently stable in all three dimensions. Motorcycles are only stable in one. Aircraft in none.

 

And the only way to find the limits of stability is to exceed the frictional tension between tire and tarmac, and that means a very good chance one is going down. In that case, when all comes to rest the motorcycle rider is not still sitting up, enclosed, strapped in. He or she is lying, limping, or walking somewhere near either a still rideable machine or a machine that's out of commission or even destroyed.

 

So, to be really good, the motorcycle rider has to be willing to exceed that limit; take the fall. Without it you can never be the best you can be....on a motorcycle. Pilots, of course, take an even greater risk.

 

Each of us makes a decision that answers that question: Am I willing to do what it takes to be that good? Am I willing to risk injury, being crippled, or even dead, in exchange for the (fill in the blank: satisfaction? glory? accomplishment? foolishness? insanity?) of being the best I can be.

 

(Those of you who are veterans, is this anything like volunteering for combat just to see what you'll learn about yourself?)

 

I'm not dissing automobile racers. They take big risks. But there's another level of danger in riding a motorcycle fast. When you “spin” a one-tracker you don't end up sitting upright.

 

Is this drivel? Or have I achieved PURE drivel?

[Joe Frickin' Friday]

Here, let me add to the drivel.

 

I suppose it's true that you may have to accept some risk in order to discover the traction limits of the bike. It's particularly difficult on public roads, since traction can vary so widely depending on pavement type/condition, weather, and debris.

 

ABS has alleviated one aspect of that: it's now possible to explore the edge of braking traction with minimal risk of crashing. Before people jump all over me on that one, they should understand exactly what I mean. I am not suggesting that you ought to deliberately depend on ABS during everyday riding. What I am suggesting is that you periodically find a straight, empty road, get up to speed, and then apply the brakes until the ABS engages so you can learn, viscerally, just how much deceleration the bike can provide before the tires run out of traction.

 

As you note, it's harder to safely explore lateral traction limits. I've pushed my bike pretty hard before, but in all my years of riding I've never crashed, so it's safe to conclude that the bike has some capabilities that I've not yet explored (and I'm not sure I want to).

 

On a separate note, I think this discussion hinges on what constitutes a "good" rider. In a race, that's measured by lap times and final standings, and crashing out every now and then is an acceptable risk to be taken in pursuit of those all-important metrics. The standard for a "good" rider on public roads is quite different: crashing out with any frequency is a bad thing because of the physical and financial consequences, so minimizing crashes-per-100K-miles is probably an important measure of what constitutes "good."

 

In the book Traffic, Vanderbilt suggests that crash frequency is not enough information; instead he offers "close call" frequency as a better metric. If you have a lot of close calls, you're more likely to have a crash than someone who doesn't have a lot of close calls (note that the FAA take aviation close-calls very seriously). So maybe someone who doesn't have a lot of "oh SH!T" moments ought to be considered a "good" rider. That means more than just understanding traction limits: it means looking and thinking ahead to anticipate and avoid circumstances that might put you outside of your comfort zone, whether it's decreasing radius turns, texting drivers, debris in the road, etc.

[chrisolson]

Your theory applies to those who do track days or are engaged in any form of true racing, not so much to street riders. Mitch identifies the issue with the definition of good or excellent as its applied to various rider environments. A race or track day oriented racer has different goals than a street rider so one can be excellent in both yet achieve different results.

 

Having said that, I'd wager that many members equate "good rider" with speed and quickness when riding a nice road ... and while that may be a skill set needed to be a well rounded rider, the absolute limits don't have to be (and really shouldn't be) explored to excel on the street.

[Quinn]

So, are we talking good or skillful? Skills can build in a margin of safety by giving more ability to handle difficult situations that can't be avoided. They can also ingrain correct responses to those situations.

 

Good, on the other hand, can just be not putting yourself in as many bad situations as possible. Riding diligently and being paranoid go a long way toward mitigating danger.

 

I've never developed th skills to do a U-turn in a single parking space and, so far, I've managed to avoid needing them by adequate foresight. It would be nice to have the skill; it would make it a lot less terrifying when I've got two spaces, but I don't think the tupperware would survive the continuing practice sessions to get there. Same thing applies to high speed and extreme leaning.

 

------

 

 

[Oldironken]

I'm a chicken when it comes to pushing my limits on any vehicle. From age 12 thru 17 I rode a dual purpose bike. Until I was 16 I rode exclusively trails and a small dirt track I wore into a field at home. I learned early on that I don't like crashing, it hurt, and it bent things I couldn't always afford to fix. I read a lot about dirt riding techniques that I worked on, my favorite was always a nice power slide thru a left hand dirt track curve with the left foot down and bars pointed right and throttle full on. My friends always beat in the dirt because I lack that killer instinct willing to take a risk to make a pass or be too aggressive on a jump.

All of that translated into my street riding and to my car driving. I love a brisk curvy section of road, picking a good line, and feeling the different forces play out in my seat. At the same time I always ride south of my limits and try to save that last bit as a safety measure in case of emergency.

 

After a near 30 years layoff from riding I read Proficient Motorcycling and am grateful for the reminders it gave me on what I once practiced as instinct, my skills are coming back steadily. I have found myself in a couple of cases where my rear end was a little to lose for comfort, but because I am a chicken I have had the buffer I needed to stay safe and at the same time learn something new, again.

 

So for me, being as good as I can means always being aware of my comfort zone and leaving a healthy margin between it what I am doing at the time. I do wish I had a dirt bike now so I could be a little more aggressive in my training while lessening the risk. I know I would love some track time because a lot of variables we face on the road are removed, but I would still chicken out when I get to close to my limits, as I hate pain, and I hate breaking things.

[tallman]

I've had good riders almost crssh into me more times than I like to recall up in the mountains.

 

Over in my lane coming around curves, mc's/cars/trucks etc.

 

They had to be good because they were going fast.

Right?

 

Being in my lane was just a byproduct of poor road design and

improprerly set speed limits.

 

I admire the skill set needed to go very fast on a motorcycle in technical road conditions.

I do not admire taking that skill set onto a public road and endangering others.

 

So even if someone is "as good as they can be" I'd like that

fact demonstrated on a closed course.

 

I know my bike has the design to go faster than I can.

Maybe the next owner will be faster...

[Paul Mihalka]

A complex question. A basic good rider is one who rides without crashing or too many "oh-sh" moments - so some are inevitable. Like a wide spread of diesel fuel in a turn. A broken car gear box dumps the oil (seen more thane once in my time in South America) etc.

Now how to get a "gooder" rider - as good as you can? The key word is training. Starting with the parking lot schools. Move to on road training. In the East Jim Ford's Rider Workshop (yes, he is a good friend of mine) comes to mind. Next step is learning, training, getting close to YOUR limit with a race track school like Reg Pridmore's CLASS or Keith Code's Superbike School. You don't have to be a wanna-be racer. Just explore your and your bike's limits, which you'll find are much farther than you thought. You don't have to crash, but if you do a track is the best place. You have full gear, no objects to crash into, instant help. If first you are comfortable to go into a turn at 50, you'll come away comfortable at 80. If you start Ok in the same turn at 80, you'll come away OK at 100. The real limit may be 120. Doesn't matter. You are pushing YOUR limits. Benefits of high speed track training on everyday riding: You KNOW how far from the real limits you normally ride, so when you need it you can use it. Like a bad oil or gravel patch in a turn. With a strong counter-steering and leaning you can avoid it. If you've never done it before, you won't do it and crash.

I had a lot of track experience. First racing, then race training (Venezuela), then participating in race track schools in the USA (CLASS). Until age 70 I did one, often two, events a year. I called it my yearly tuneup. I stopped doing it because I as a person slowed down a lot and didn't want to be a moving chicane on the track. So I still ride well within my current limits. Its still good riding.

[Deek]

..The one question I kept asking, and that no one could answer, was “How can you know the limits of what you can do? How can you get the ultimate out of yourself and the bike in a corner?” The second part of that question – the inescapable corollary – is “...without falling?”

...

 

I guess that's why I seem to go pretty slowly and carefully in those tight corners......and the speed seems to be lower with each passing year....

[russell_bynum]

This is one of the many areas where dirt bikes are good.

1. Traction is GREATLY reduced. To exceed the available traction of good tarmac with a modern sport touring tire requires quite a bit of energy, and that energy will be used to kick your ass when it does break loose. To exceed the available traction when you're riding in a sand wash requires that you think vague thoughts about maybe someday trying to turn, slow down, or speed up. You're basically always siding, so you get lots of practice dealing with slides.

2. The bikes are designed to crash. I've seen modern BMW's TOTALLED in a 1mph tipover. My DRZ400 has gone end over end more times than I can count and the most I've ever had to replace, is a radiator. I probably crash 2-3 times each time we go ride dirt bikes in the desert and it's no big deal.

3. Because you're generally going slower and the ground is (usually) softer than typical stuff you run into when you crash on the street, you're not as likely to be hurt. I did break my ankle once, but otherwise...all of my dirt bike falls usually end with me laying in a heap on the ground laughing (or rushing to pick my bike up before one of my friends takes a picture to post on Facebook.)

 

All of that means that the consequences for crossing that line are much, much lower. So...you do it more often. I actually like riding in sand because it's fun feeling the bike squirm around. I'll try hill climbs that I'm pretty sure I can't complete because the price of failure is that I had fun trying.

 

Riding at the track lets you get much closer to the edge since the environment is much more controlled and you usually have an ambulance standing by. When you do crash, you're less likely to be seriously hurt or seriously killed...but it's still going to be expensive and unpleasant.

 

 

[roadscholar]

Russell nailed it. Breaking traction on dirt is much easier, just like racing a car in the rain, you can get either end or both loose at much slower speeds so the penalty for not getting it right is much less severe. A rainy track day is a good time to learn car control.

 

Riding in sand is also a good teacher, once past the initial fear, you're almost crashing every few seconds. Once you realize you're probably not going to, it's a constant and controllable non-crash. Or something like that : )

[4wheeldog]

Way back in high school math class, the subject of there being an infinite number of points between any two points on a line was discussed. My buddies and I converted this to mean "If you made it through the last corner, you could have gone faster!" This was forevermore referred to as "Louderback's law", as he was the instructor.

 

Since then, nuance has reared its head, with the idea that whoever makes it to the NEXT corner first actually won the race through the last corner. And making it to the next corner becomes the priority. This is "Geezer's law", and I happily abide within it.

[Patallaire]

For me, being as good as I can be on a motorcycle is committing to the bike and the road everytime I get on the bike. Liking hitting your head with a hammer, you don't need to experience that sensation to know it will hurt, it is the same for dumping a bike. Unless and until someone is willing to pay me to push to the edge of my limits, there is no reason to find them.

I have taken many riding classes, raced cars and bicycles, cross country skis and in-line skates all over the world,and have explored what I felt to be my limits, I know where I perceive them to be without getting hurt or endangering others. Sometimes I might be coming down the straight and feel someone pass me I am at my limit, they are at theirs. I might catch him in the corners as my limits were more edgy there, his more edgy on the straights. I have been in corners on the road and discovered those pucker moments where I knew I was on the edge, and asked myself, to what end am I doing this insanity? Those who have ridden with me know, I am not a slow rider, but a man has to know his limits without kissing the pavement to find them.

I believe in practice, classes and experience are the best teachers.

[upflying]

The movie, 'The Right Stuff" covered this issue nicely.

[roadscholar]

To exceed the available traction when you're riding in a sand wash requires that you think vague thoughts about maybe someday trying to turn, slow down, or speed up. You're basically always siding, so you get lots of practice dealing with slides.

 

Nothing to it.

 

[TEWKS]

 

Nothing to it.

 

 

Witchcraft I tell you! There can be no other explanation!

 

Pat

[russell_bynum]

To exceed the available traction when you're riding in a sand wash requires that you think vague thoughts about maybe someday trying to turn, slow down, or speed up. You're basically always siding, so you get lots of practice dealing with slides.

 

Nothing to it.

 

 

I really thought I was going down, but luckily I was able to get back on the gas and save it.