MikeRides.com

The 2009 Suzuki TU250, a simple little bike

If I were a more intelligent person I would have determined what sort of motorcycling I liked before buying a single machine.  Unfortunately I’m not intelligent, which is obvious because it’s taken lots of motorcycle purchases for me to begin to dial in to my motorcycling style.  For most riders there’s an incremental progression from lighter, less powerful bikes to heavier, more powerful ones.  I’ve seen the process happen over and over again.  People move up to more weight and more power.  But historically I haven’t been that way.  I’ve never owned a bike with more than 85 horsepower or 700cc, and more and more I  like smaller, lighter (and often slower) motorcycles.  This year alone I’ve bought two 250s, and those two bikes are far less powerful than bikes I bought before.

So I got to thinking when I read Peter Jones’ article in the current Cycle World magazine (December 2010) about his recent purchase of a 1975 Honda CB200.  His bike has a tiny 200cc engine which couldn’t possibly make more than 15 horsepower.  Probably less.  He thought, before riding the bike, that riding it wouldn’t be worth it because it was so underpowered.  It would only be worth only the novelty of riding it.  But once underway he noted, “I realized that with every bike I’ve ridden in my life, from bored-out ‘Busas to tricked-out Bimotas to full-race Yamaha R1s and everything in between, all I’ve been doing is trying to relive the visceral excitement of my first day on a motorcycle, that magic moment of turning a throttle and being effortlessly rushed into the wind, flying down the road breast to breeze, naked and powerful all at once like a superhero…I’d been searching for it by racing, by riding bikes with huge horsepower, by going crazy speeds–trying to force the moment back with a ham fist when all it needed was a gentle twist on a little bike on a sunny day.”

And that sentiment, I think, is something that’s become apparent with my motorcycling style, something that I’ve felt for some time.  Often too much thrust can drown out the simple thrill that is motorcycling.  It becomes a thrill ride.  I worry that too many motorcyclists, including myself, ride fast or heavy bikes because we want to show that we’re the biggest, baddest rider on the road.  I think that mentality misses the whole point of riding, for me at least.  I should care less about what others’ think and more about what I actually enjoy.  Others might truly enjoy superlative machines, which is fine by me, but I’m discovering that it’s not my thing.

This is why my bikes are still small and light.  A big part of my recent interest in the Ryca CS-1 cafe racer is the smallish 650 single and 320 pound weight.  It’s a cool bike that should allow me to have fun while still enjoying the purity of motorcycling.  This isn’t to say that there’s nothing comfortable about riding a full-dress Harley or fun about riding a race-spec superbike, but these rides seem to be missing something.  All I can figure is that they’re equipped with everything but simplicity.  And when it comes to motorcycles, simplicity is the most important component.

Behold the Ryca CS-1 cafe racer. I'm in trouble, no doubt about it.

I’ve tried hard this year to not buy motorcycles.  I should be upgrading my house instead.  The interior is dated, you see, and not in a good way.  The house itself is great–it’s all brick and it even has a new roof–but the mauve carpet and pink linoleum need to go, among other things.  But being me, I’ve failed almost completely at staying away from motorcycles.  I’ve failed so completely, in fact, that in the past 12 months I’ve added a Yamaha WR250R, a Kawasaki KX450x, and a Ninja 250R.

And now this.  Just when I thought I had everything, the Ryca CS-1 cafe racer came along and suddenly I can’t get the bike out of my head, which is what always happens before I buy a new motorcycle.

The Ryca is a motorcycle that excites me because it’s a minimalist, retro, sexy machine that is simply a motorcycle, pure and simple.  It’s not a bullet bike or a cruiser.  It doesn’t have any wind protection, and aside from the lightly padded seat, no creature comforts either.  It’s all black and chrome, as it should be.  It’s a bike that should be ridden by James Dean.  It’s the real deal.

Sort of, anyway.  To build the CS-1, Ryca starts with the pedestrian, unimpressive Suzuki s40.  The s40 is an entry level cruiser with a nontraditional single cylinder 650 engine instead of a v-twin.  Check it out:

The Suzuki s40, which Ryca transforms into the CS-1

By installing a kit, the S40 morphs into the Ryca CS-1.  This is nothing like turning a Fiero into a Ferrari by installing a kit, however, because in that case all you end up with is a a cheap, silly looking fake Ferrari.  In the case of the CS-1, you have a custom motorcycle that looks like, well, a custom motorcycle because it is one.

On their website Ryca offers a couple purchase options.  You can buy your own Suzuki s40 and buy the conversion kit from Ryca and install it yourself, or you can buy a complete machine directly from them.  For the complete bike, Ryca will buy a Suzuki s40 and perform the installation.  Since this is a new project from a small custom bike builder, they’re accepting $100 refundable deposits to get in line for a machine.  In a moment of weakness, I sent in my $100.  I guess I’ll wait for my turn in line, which should be in the next couple of months.

If I decide to buy a bike from Ryca I’m stuck with an important decision.  Ryca can build the motorcycle complete, and I’m assured that the job will be done well and quickly.  All I have to do is run to Los Angeles with my flatbed and drive home with a new motorcycle.  Easy.  But that seems like such a sissy option when considering a custom cafe racer.  Part of riding a custom motorcycle is riding around with the love you put into the machine, which would be zero if I bought the bike pre-modified.  It would be a truly pure motorcycle if it had my touch.  But I know myself, and there’s even odds that a component will go flying across the shop, accompanied by some choice phrases intended to belittle the object.  Part of the frustration stems from the fact that I’m rather mechanically inexperienced, and completing such a project would provide some valuable experience.  Also, I have almost nothing to do this winter when it’s too cold to ride, and a big project would be fun.  We’ll see what happens.

While in Yosemite during my summer ride this year, I plopped down on a curb at El Capitan for a ten minute rest.  Long rides are tiring and I was exhausted.  Probably my favorite thing to do during a motorcycle rest is sit down, take off my helmet, and stare into space for a while.  I have to get all my brain gears engaged before I can do anything, even take a drink of water or realize that I’ve had to find a bathroom for three solid hours.  After a long ride, things just take a minute.

While sitting on the curb I heard a distant rumble, and since the skies were clear it became apparent that  Harley riders were approaching.  How people can ride those loud things for hours on end without earplugs boggles my mind.  They must be as tough as they look.  I saw them as they came around the bend, wearing black leather and angry scowls, and most had a scowling woman on the back.  Out on the road, lots of fellow motorcyclists wave to me as they pass, but I’ve learned with Harley riders to wait until they wave first.  These riders did not wave.

A few moments passed and a nice looking family walked past my motorcycle and me.  The mother paused and asked me, “What, did your gang leave you behind?”  Perplexed, I looked at my bike, which is an ugly, tall, bright blue adventure bike without a single piece of chrome, and then looked at myself in my dopey colorful riding gear, and I wondered how anyone on earth could associate me with that Harley group.  Afterward I wished I had come up with something clever to say like, “Well, my bike wasn’t loud enough so they kicked me out” or something like that.  I wanted to find some way to make this woman understand that not all motorcyclists are the same, and we’re usually just regular folks.

But it was more than that, I think.  It’s not that I didn’t like being associated with the Harley riders.  As a motorcycle rider I consider myself to be a part of the larger community, whatever the riding style may be.  The Harley riders didn’t wave to me but part of being a Harley rider, sometimes at least, is not waving at adventure riders.  There are different families within the motorcycle community and none of it bothers me much.

Perhaps suggesting I might be part of a “gang” is what got me thinking.  Groups of motorcyclists usually aren’t gangs and these Harley riders weren’t a gang either.  I could tell because not all of them looked too mean, and there were a couple of Honda Gold Wings riding in their group.  In all likelihood it was just a group of friends out for a touring ride, like me.  Motorcyclists generally aren’t scary people.  In fact they’re usually friendly people, especially when they’re out for a ride.  But apparently some people see us only as members of one biker gang or another.

This isn’t true because I ride a V-Strom by myself, sans gang.  Sans anyone, really.  My dad has a Honda VTX1300 which looks like a Harley but isn’t one.  He doesn’t wear leathers or skulls.  He rides alone too, most of the time.  But riding as a motorcycle group doesn’t make you a gang either.  There are tons of people on BMW GS bikes that ride together and there are lots of Gold Wing groups too.  I see sport bikers riding together a lot.  The motorcycle community is diverse.

Despite the diversity, and despite the fact that some BMW riders wouldn’t be seen dead on a Harley-Davidson (and vice-versa), we’re all on two wheels enjoying the the ride.  This commonality is no small thing.  There’s a certain freedom that comes from riding a motorcycle, whatever the style.  Looking over a set of handlebars and seeing only your hands and the road is a very stark, liberating feeling.  The scenery isn’t bound by a windshield frame.  It’s all right there, real.  Motorcycles all lean and flow.  Every rider enjoys this.  This is why motorcyclists of all types wave to passing bikes.  Even I do it and I’m not generally a friendly person.  We even share common risk by participating in a dangerous activity.  There are common bonds that we all share and we all enjoy together as a community.

After thinking about it, perhaps I shouldn’t have been so confused by being a V-Strom rider who was associated with a column of Harley-Davidson riders.  I guess to some people I’m simply a biker, whatever that means to them.  It’s fine because biking is what I do.  Just don’t expect to see me wearing studded black leathers anytime soon.  I mean, come on.