The time has come. I’ve admitted to myself that my current motorcycle, technically now my previous motorcycle, was my mid-life crisis bike. I’ve admitted to myself it’s uncomfortable after an hour, and down right painful after 2. Lastly, I’ve come to terms with it just not being a great 2-up touring bike.

I’m talking about my 2018 Yamaha Tracer 900. I love the engine. I love the clutch for being a slipper assist, making downshifts effortless. I hate the clutch for having a friction zone about 1mm wide on the clutch lever. I love the engine. This bike has been the most fun I’ve had on 2 wheels up to this point. As fun as it is, the fact that it hurts me after making a tonne of mods to it that should have fixed that, is really bumming me out. The fact that my wife also finds it uncomfortable, not a great point either. Oh right, I got remarried this summer, and while that’s new, it’s not the new I’m talking about here.

The Yamaha Tracer 900, my specific one, has had all sorts of work done to it. New suspension, check. Corbin saddle, check. New windscreen, check. Bar risers, check. Lower the pegs, check. Crash bars, check. Rear rack and Givi monolock plate, check. In total, probably $3k in upgrades. Ouch. End result, after putting 10,000km on her, not comfortable for long hauls. Lots of fun over a short hop, but just torture over time. I want to point out, it is more comfortable than when I purchased it. The root cause of this is most likely the peg mount location. It places my feet more rearward than I like, creating an angle at my hips and knees, that I just cannot change or fix.

Back in 2019, in those lovely pre-COVID days, I attended numerous demo days for Suzuki and Yamaha. I specifically was checking out the Yamaha Super Tenere, and the Suzuki DL1000 V-Strom. I also rode the Yamaha XSR900, the Yamaha Niken, the Suzuki DL650, and the Suzuki SV650. I rode more than that, but honestly I can’t remember everything I rode back then. If I haven’t said it before, I will here; go to as many demo days as you can. It’s free, and you can actually see how a bike feels when riding, as opposed to sitting on it in the show room. In 2019 I rode the DL1000 three times, and the Super Tenere four times, across a couple of demo days each. I liked the ride on the V-Strom, but the dash and tech were seriously dated back then; this was before the V-Strom 1050 was introduced last year. I liked the Super Tenere as well, which featured a dash the same as my Tracer, and all the tech I’d expect on a motorcycle costing $4k more than the V-Strom. Even in 2019, I was thinking Super Tenere, but I couldn’t justify it.

Now, in 2021, with the above revelations made, I decided to pull the trigger on a new bike. The 2 contenders were the Suzuki 1050XA and the Yamaha Super Tenere. Both have similar features. Both are aimed squarely at the adventure touring segment. The Suzuki finally received an update to the engine, and more importantly, the electronics suite. New TFT dash. Ride by wire throttle. Cruise control. Variable power modes. Traction control. All the goodies. The Yamaha on the other hand, has all of that, a bigger engine, hydraulic clutch, dry sump oil system, electronic suspension, heated hand grips, side cases, and the list sort of keeps going. There is a reason the Yamaha is $2k more than the Suzuki, at least at MSRP. The main caveat to the Yamaha is that it is mostly unchanged since 2014.

Off to the local Yamaha dealer I went, my lovely new wife with me, to sit on a Super Tenere. On the show room floor were two shiny new 2020 models. We sat on one, and my wife hated it. The side cases are big and boxy and they bothered her a lot getting on the bike. On this particular trip we had with us 2 of our daughters, and my wife was stressing about them being in the dealership. The end result, she was not relaxed, and was not focused on the task at hand. The Super Tenere’s were MSRP, $18.5k, with a special that waived PDI and delivery fees; so MSRP plus taxes to get out the door. They also offered me $7.5k on trade for my Tracer with 10,000km on it.

I started trying to find a dealership with a 1050XA on the floor; which turned out to be hard to do. Both of the Suzuki dealerships I have used in the past did not have any stock. They didn’t have any V-Strom’s at all. A little hunting, and I found a dealership outside my area, but close enough for a day trip. Off we went to sit on a 1050XA, and see what sort of deal we could get. Upon arrival I locate the 2020 1050XA sitting dead center in a mass of new motorcycles, on the verge of being too close together to even stand the bike up off it’s side stand. It was also covered in a thick layer of dust. Despite that, we got on to test the waters. First issue, the seat is in the low position. Second issue, my wife is half sitting on the rack, because the pillion seat is pretty short. It’s nice and wide, which she likes, but it’s about 3 inches shorter than it needs to be. Quick chat with the sales person, which was hard to get started, and I talked them into putting the seat into the tall position. Turns out you need tools and about 10 minutes to do this. The sales person was not happy about this, but he complied. In the tall position, if it was possible, my wife had even less room. On the plus side, she loved the look of it. I asked about a trade on my Tracer, to which they replied “not interested”. The Suzuki was also on special, no PDI or delivery fees, and a price below MSRP at $15.8k. I was pretty excited about the Suzuki, but left disappointed for a couple of reasons. Mainly how much smaller it was in person, and how small the pillion seat is.

On our way home from the Suzuki dealer, I swung us by a different Yamaha dealer, the same ones that sold me my Tracer. They had a pair of 2020 Super Tenere’s on the floor as well. My wife wanted to try it after sitting on the Suzuki, so we did. This time we had left the kids at home, and the bikes were in a large 30’ × 30’ room with only 4 or 5 other motorcycles; the Super Tenere was sitting in the middle of the floor with nothing around it. We hopped on, and suddenly it was all good. All the reasons she had for not liking the Yamaha previously were gone. She fit on the pillion seat well. The pegs put her legs in a better position than the Tracer or the 1050XA. We got off, talked about it, got back on, and the same; she liked the feel and the fit. Apparently the kids had really caused some anxiety previously, and without them around, she was able to relax and try the bike for real. At this point I was getting excited again, because I already like the Yamaha better than the Suzuki. Maybe it was the time I spent on the Tracer. Maybe the Super Tenere is really that much nicer. I’m not sure, but I have really become a Yamaha man in the last 3 years. I grabbed the same salesman that sold me my Tracer, and had a chat. Price was the same, with the same special of no PDI or delivery. Talking trades, thinking they would want to keep my business, they offered me $5k for my Tracer. I was a little perplexed, given that was $2.5k less than a Yamaha dealer closer to my house. We chatted some more, but I soon realized they didn’t want my business. I suppose that is their loss.

That night I did some research. I wanted to understand the real world value my Tracer was worth, I wanted to see if I could find a better deal on the Super Tenere. As it turns out, my Tracer is worth about $10k on the used market. Not bad, but I know what a pain it is to sell a bike privately. I also found a 2019 Super Tenere for $1.5k less than the 2020 at the dealer. Even more interesting, that 2019 model was at another location of the same dealership. The following day I was back at my local Yamaha dealer, and we had a chat about the 2019 model sitting at another location. I mentioned it before, but the Super Tenere is largely unchanged from 2014 to 2021. In fact, aside from paint colours, they are the same bike. The biggest change was that they dropped the base model, and only sell the ES model since 2019. So, same bike, but $1.5k cheaper. They offered to bring the 2019 over to their dealership, which I countered by asking them if they’d rather move one of their 2020’s instead. After some talk, they dropped $1k off the price tag. $17.5k, which I was pretty happy with. I put the deposit down, delivered my Tracer for trade in, and spent a week cashing in some investments to pay the balance.

I picked up the Super Tenere just 4 days ago, and have already put 400km on it, going through the break in process. I’ve also started the mods to make it fit me better. I’m going to write an article on this process when I’ve completed it, which will compliment my previous article on fitment, and making a bike work for you, the taller rider.

I’ve been riding for a lot of years. If you haven’t read it, and have some time, go and look back over the previous 5 articles, which go into way too much detail on my long and varied history on 2 wheels. From all of that experience I’ve hit one long standing annoyance; the fit of a motorcycle. I’ve been on a life long quest to get a motorcycle to just fit me. Okay, that’s overly dramatic, it’s been more like 15 years of attempts, failures, and successes. Let’s take a step back, and look at the styles of motorcycles, which fall into pretty much 3 categories:

The cruiser, aka the Harley, aka the cool bike. The cruiser puts the seat low, the feet forward, and the bars around shoulder height, sometimes higher. If you’ve heard of “ape hangers”, this is where they come from, because on many examples, the rider appears to be hanging from the bars. Some “cruiser” bikes happen to fall more closely into the standard or neutral riding position with the bars a little lower; mainly those from Japanese makers, but it’s the exception not the rule. This riding position is found exclusively on cruiser style motorcycles.

The sport bike, aka lets hug the tank, aka where’s my race suit. The sport bike puts the seat neutral to low, the bars way forward and low around hip height, and the feet back and upwards. By it’s very nature, you are pulled onto the tank to be able to reach the bars, I mean clip-ons, because there are no bars here; just little control nubs at the sharpest angle, clamped right onto the forks. Like cruisers, this riding position is exclusive to sport bikes.

The standard, the universal Japanese motorcycle (UJM), the upright, neutral, etc.. The seat is a neutral height, the bars are in a neutral position roughly elbow height, and the pegs / controls place your feet under your center of gravity, and slightly forward. Unlike the previous two, this standard position is found across almost all types of motorcycles, and the types of motorcycles just keep expanding, with this riding position being the defacto standard.

Up front, and candidly, I believe that only standard or upright riding position motorcycles can be made to fit the tall among us. I have a great deal of disdain for the crotch rocket riding position, and dislike the cruiser riding position. I’m going to explain this through out the article, or what’s the point, I just thought it might be good to admit I have some bias built out of my own personal experience. It’s possible a tall person could ride a crotch rocket, or a cruiser; for 20 minutes at a time in any case. With that out of the way, lets get into it.

What defines comfort and fit? For me, it’s a combination of hip and knee angle, my back in an upright position, and not having to reach too far for the bars. If my knees are too bent, it’s painful. If my hips are too bent, I can get back pain. If I have to reach to much for the bars, shoulder and potentially back pain. Alternately, if I’m leaned over the bars, and have to apply too much pressure to my wrists to support my upper body, that is all sorts of uncomfortable. In a perfect world my hips and knees are making angles greater than 90 degrees relative to my core and thighs, my back is straight, and my elbows are nearly at my sides with my forearms nearly parallel to the ground. In short, everything in a nice neutral position. The seat height is the same as, or within 2 inches of, my inseam. Ultimately this usually means a taller seat, raised and pulled back handlebars, and sometimes lowering the pegs and foot controls. There are other factors, like wind protection and seat construction, that play into comfort; but from a pure fitment angle, this is what I look for.

Cruisers are what people think of when they hear “motorcycle”, generally speaking. They are the icon of motorcycling for the average person. They place the seat low, the feet forward, and the bars above the elbow or higher. The result is your body is in a “U” shape when you ride, feet and legs forward, back leaning slightly forward, and your arms nearly straight out. For an average height person, I can see this could work if you’re willing to deal with the strain in the shoulders and lower back. Frankly, the low seat height is probably very attractive for those average and under in height, because generally a cruiser has a seat height below 28 inches. Add to that the Japanese cruisers that place the bars at a more reasonable height, and I could see it being very attractive to a shorter rider. My inseam is 36 inches though; I feel like I’m sitting on the ground. Add to that having to place my feet forward, and it gets awkward fast. In placing my feet forward, they end up higher relative to my hips, which means my knees end up higher. Instead of looking cool, I look like an adult on a child’s bicycle; knees above my hips, comically hunched to reach the bars in that awkward forward and tall position. I’ve ridden a couple of cruisers, and sat on a dozen or more. In almost all cases I felt unstable at a stop, awkward when riding, and generally uncomfortable; with lots of strain on my shoulders and back. 20 minutes on a cruiser caused a day of aches.

Can a cruiser be made to work for a taller person? With some limits, sure they can. The most successful alterations I saw turned the cruiser into a Scrambler. Taller, longer, and flatter seat. Dirt bike handlebars with pull backs. Foot controls moved slightly; heal shifter removed. That’s the catch, because if you consider a Scrambler, it’s a cruiser converted to a standard riding position, with more dirt bike like styling. To make a cruiser fit a tall person comfortably, is to convert that cruiser to not a cruiser. It’s completely doable, and many companies make and sell accessories to do this; custom seats, bolt on sub frames to support the seat, new foot controls and pegs. Even if you can’t find an off the shelf part, you can adapt and fabricate most of what you’d need to accomplish this with hand tools. But is it still a cruiser at that point? I don’t think a Scrambler is a cruiser any more; it’s closer to the classic UJM, the Honda CB series from the 60’s and 70’s; the most iconic being the CB750. So, you can make a cruiser fit a taller person, but to do so in a way that is functional, is to make it no longer a cruiser, at least in my opinion.

Moving on to sport bikes, this is probably the bike you see when one cuts you off on the highway. I don’t understand the appeal to these mobile torture devices. The seats are too low, the pegs and controls are directly below your hips, or behind them, and the bars are around the same height as your hips. All of this forces you into a tucked position just to ride it. When you’re tall that means very cramped legs, very sore knees, very sore back, and generally very awkward to ride. I’ve ridden one sport bike, once. I’ve sat on 10 or so. I was able to ride for 5 minutes before it was a flatout no. I actually stopped a demo ride, and got the person leading it to swap bikes with me. It was a Yamaha R6, if you’re curious, though I found the ergos about the same as any other sport or super sport bike I’ve sat on. I completed that ride on a XSR 900, which is also on the small side, but way more comfortable than the R6 for me. There are so many fails on the ergos for this style of bike if you exceed the average height of around 5’10”. Hip angle, knee angle, foot angle; pressure on your lower back and shoulders, neck, and wrists. If you’re within the size range these are designed for, they can be comfortable to a point, but as soon as you’re outside that range, it’s just painful. You can actually see average people riding these, actively showing you the discomfort they’re in, when they ride with one hand on the throttle, and the other on their knee supporting their upper body in a more upright position. You will see riders moving their legs and stretching them while they ride. Overall, this class of bike can be fun, but is more suited to track days, or quick hops around town, as opposed to serious riding.

So, can a sport bike be made to work for a tall person? Frankly, I don’t think so. You can add actual risers and handlebars. You can raise the seat. In most cases you cannot relocate the pegs and foot controls without some serious fabrication work. The end result, at best, is probably going to be a slightly more comfortable bike, that is still going to hurt you after 20 minutes, and never feel right. Some people tour on sport bikes, so they must be comfortable enough for some. Touring spawned a whole other sub segment of bikes; the sport touring class, which has the sporty styling and aggressive motors combined with a standard riding position. Sport touring bikes are adaptable, because they already have handlebars, taller seats, and more neutral or standard riding positions. You can add bar risers easily. You can add a taller seat easily. You can get taller windscreens, and peg lowering kits, and all sorts of other accessories to fit that style of motorcycle to a taller person. In short, you can get a sport bike to work for you, just start with the sport touring version first and go from there.

That leads me into the standard category, which is represented in almost every style of motorcycle available. Touring, almost all standard. Adventure touring, all standard. Dirt bikes, all standard. Sport touring, standard position. Naked, mostly standard. You can find solid standard riding position motorcycles that cover almost every single facet of motorcycling. What makes most standard motorcycles so great for a tall person is that the riding position lends itself best for adaptation. Raising the seat doesn’t significantly alter the design of the bike, while giving you leg room. Lowering the pegs and foot controls is possible on almost all standard bikes, but still doesn’t significantly alter the position of the rider, while granting more leg room. Raising the handle bars with a set of pivot risers or pull backs is easy, and again aside from improving reach doesn’t alter that neutral position. To alter the previous 2 to fit, you would ultimately be altering the bike to be closer to neutral, requiring more significant alterations. Adapting a standard motorcycle can be as little as putting a sheepskin or an air hawk on the seat for a little more leg room. It can be as extreme as 3 inch bar risers requiring new control cables, coupled with peg and foot control lowering.

Can a standard motorcycle be fit to a tall person? Absolutely, almost always an emphatic yes. There are exceptions to this rule, I’m looking at you BMW R NineT, but generally it can be done. In my opinion, if you’re 6’ and over, you want a standard motorcycle. The other two types are going to give you problems. Yes, you can ride them. Yes you can probably mod the crap out of them to make it work. Is it worth it? Not really, when you can much more easily adapt almost any standard motorcycle to your needs, with off the shelf parts. It will be easier, and cheaper to start with a good base. If you want the minimum amount of fuss and trouble, look at the adventure touring segment. Those bikes are almost always already tall, with a massive amount of aftermarket support. I cannot more strongly recommend the Suzuki V-Strom lineup for this purpose. They’re never going to win a race, or keep up with sport bikes, but they are fast, fun, reliable, and really easy to make comfortable.

My personal V-Strom was a 2011 DL650A. I added the following to fit it nicely to my 6’7” frame. Suzuki tall touring seat. Adventure tech peg and control lowering plates. Rox 3” pivot risers. New braided front brake line. Madstad windshield bracket. Alaska leather sheepskin butt pad. Suzuki hand guards and centre stand. In total around $1000 Canadian invested for comfort. That was it, and has been hands down the most comfortable motorcycle I’ve owned.

My current motorcycle, a 2018 Yamaha Tracer 900 (non GT), has the following. Rox 2” bar risers and pull backs. Corbin saddle, which is a little taller than stock and about 10x more comfortable. A Givi short sport windscreen, which is taller than stock and fixes highway buffeting. Lowered pegs. Givi crash bars, purchased to add highway pegs, but that was a failed project. I also had the rear suspension replaced, and the front suspension re-sprung and tuned. The stock suspension is under-sprung for a taller person, causing handling issues. I’m around $3000 Canadian into this bike adapting it for comfort, and I am still working on it, trying to make it more comfortable. The V-Strom was far more comfortable, especially over distance, but the Tracer is a lot more fun. If I were to do this again, I would buy a Super Tenere or a V-Strom 1050, and I may still do that. I wanted something more sporty, and while it’s proving possible to make it work for me, it is costing me more than 3X what a more suitable bike would have. That is a hard pill to swallow at this point, when I could have purchased a Yamaha Super Tenere ES for the same money I have into my Tracer, which is worth at best half of what a Super Tenere would cost.

Overall, when you’re bike shopping, stick to the standard or neutral riding position motorcycles. They will provide you with the best base to adapt to your taller frame. If you’re not stuck to a specific look already, the Adventure Touring segment offers excellent motorcycles across displacements, that will most easily fit your needs. Pretty much every single manufacturer makes a bike in the Adventure segment, even Harley Davidson.

Before you pull the trigger, do your research. Look into taller seat options; what is available, and what does it cost? Look into bar risers; the cost isn’t as simple as the actual risers, because you may need to also replace your control cables and wiring to extend them. Look into peg and control lowering; it may not be feasible, or possible, to lower the pegs and adjust the foot controls to match. You need to look at those 3 contact points you’re going to make with the bike, pegs, bars and seat, and ensure you can successfully adapt them to you. Most importantly, if possible, test ride anything before you buy. Demo days are great for trying new bikes at no cost to you. 20 minutes in the saddle can tell you if that bike is for you, or not.

Lastly, try not to focus on a single specific motorcycle; be open to what works for you, and not the other way around. I love the BMW R NineT; it’s gorgeous, especially the Urban GS model. I loved it right up to sitting on one. That was when I realized there was no possible way it could work for me. Everything about it is too small. I could see someone convincing themselves it was possible to modify to fit a tall person. Maybe you could, but it would cost far more than it would be worth. I had to be agile in my thinking, and move on to something else, despite the fact that I loved that bike. Don’t make the mistake of liking the idea of a bike, and ignoring the reality of that bike. Most of the mods you can make add an inch or two here and there with the seat, bars and pegs. If the bike has a 26” high seat, you’re not making it work for you. If the seat to pegs relation is really tight, you’re not fixing that. If the bars are in a really bad position, pivot risers are not going to fix that. The bike you pick needs to be close to fitting in it’s stock form, where adding or moving things an inch or two is going to solve that problem.

Index:
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4

In 2018, my marriage was getting worse. I was still trying for the first half, but if I’m honest, I knew it was over by February of that year, it just took me until December to figure it out. I kept riding as much as I could. Any where I could. Any time I could. Mostly solo, mostly short 20 minute to 40 minute jaunts. I would get the odd long run in, but mainly short hops. I became bored with the V-Strom. I don’t know why exactly. It felt under powered. Sluggish. Slow. I had my dad take it for a little spin, and he told me I was crazy, it runs great, and performs great. There was roughly 38,000km on the clock by then, and 7 years. Nothing wrong with it, just boring. That wasn’t a good sign. This feeling was probably my mid-life crisis. All things considered, I got off reasonably easy.

That same year, I learned about demo days, put on by some manufacturers, and hosted at dealerships. I managed to get into a day at a dealership in Trenton, nothing closer to home, since I was late to the party, so to speak. The day rolled around, and I rode the V-Strom out to the dealership on a lovely warm June day. When I got there, I was greeted by the full Yamaha lineup. Cruisers, sport bikes, naked standard bikes, sport touring bikes. Oh joy. I was after the brand new for that year, MTT09 Tracer 900.

The one available had been dropped a few times. Had some cracked body work, but was mechanically sound, and less than 4000km on the clock. The picture above is of the bike I rode that day. Rough life being a demo bike apparently. It didn’t matter. I hopped on, and off with the group we went. Going from the KLR650 to DL650 has been interesting, because of how much more modern the bike seemed. Well, going from the DL650 to the Tracer 900 was a bigger leap. ABS, multi mode traction control, multi mode performance modes, digital dash, fully computerized. There was fuel consumption, instant and average. More trip meters than I knew what to do with. Engine temps, oil temps. So many features, and buttons, I wasn’t sure what to do at first. Thankfully the fellas running it set it to the most aggressive traction control mode, and the lowest power mode. They tell you how to change the power mode, but not the traction control mode. Probably a good idea, if I’m honest. Pulling away I learn two things. B mode, or the low power mode, feels pretty similar to the DL650, but with a little more pep. The clutch is very different from the Suzuki one, and I don’t like it. I end up revving the engine quite a bit trying to find the friction point on the clutch, and look like a total noob, as opposed to someone with years of experience and over 50,000km under his belt. Oh well, once I’m moving it’s all gravy.

Off we go, a group of about 10 riders, all on new and unfamiliar bikes. After the first couple of km’s, we hit a stop. I hit the engine mode switch, and bump it over to standard mode. B mode drops the horsepower to roughly 80hp, and has a fairly anemic throttle curve. Standard mode on the other hand has a linear throttle curve, and grants you access to the full horsepower, ~115hp. It’s smooth enough pulling away, but you have a lot more to play with in the mid range of the throttle travel. From single, to V twin, to inline triple. I keep adding cylinders. Yamaha’s CP3 engine, the same engine found in the FZ-09 / MT-09 naked sport bike, the XSR 900, and even the new for 2019 Niken, is one hell of an engine. The V-Strom has 645cc actual displacement. Makes sense to call it a 650. The CP3 engine is actually 847cc of displacement, not 900. Not sure why they called it a 900, when it’s an 850. Marketing, I guess. Who cares, doesn’t mater. The power, the torque, the sound; all of it is a massive departure from the venerable Suzuki V-twin 650 engine found in the DL650 and the SV650’s. Suzuki’s engine is excellent. It makes good power, it’s really smooth, and it’s really reliable. Yamaha just makes a better motor. It’s smooth, power delivery is fantastic. All of it, is just outstanding. Except that damn clutch. Fuck that clutch. It’s a high tech, slipper assist clutch. Makes down shifts and engine braking much smoother. Where, if I was too aggressive on the DL650, it would lock the rear tire for a moment, the same does not happen with the Tracer. It’s also fairly light, thanks to being a slipper assist clutch. Not sure what a slipper assist clutch does? Take a look at this picture:

It basically uses ramped or cammed surfaces to either increase the clutch force, or lighten it, depending on what rotational force the clutch is under. It’s simple, and all bikes should have one. That isn’t my problem with the clutch on this bike. The clutch lever has a lot of travel, and the friction zone is way out at the end, and really narrow. Worse, the friction zone is so tiny it makes stalling the bike very easy. I stalled it several times on this demo ride, but forgetting that, I loved the engine. The ergonomics are okay, standard riding position, tall seat height, adjustable wind screen. Suspension is okay, but soft. No show stoppers. We stop midway through the demo ride. The Yamaha guys ask us questions, offer to answer any we have. Basically making sure we’re all good, and enjoying the bikes. I complain about the clutch, because I hate it. The guy scratches his head, shrugs, and sets it into A mode. He explains it’s a sharper throttle curve, and should make getting off from a start easy. I feel like that doesn’t make sense, but whatever. After a quick stretch, which my shoulders need, we’re off again. “A” mode is bonkers. The throttle curve is almost not there; it’s more like a throttle vertical line. They should call it race mode. The throttle response is so sharp it feels like it might cut me. What I am most absolutely not, is bored. I’m thrilled. It’s exciting, and fun, and playful. The Tracer 900 weighs the same as the DL650. They’re within a couple of pounds of each other. With the Tracer, I have 40 more horsepower. The KLR 650 didn’t have 40 horsepower, for perspective. That 200cc difference added more power than the KLR 650 mill could produce. Why, yes please.

Before I knew it, the demo ride was over, and I had to ride home on my DL650. I briefly talked to the sales guy at the dealership, and he would send me an out the door quote by email. My whole ride home I was missing that extra horsepower. 74hp is enough for any sane person. It’s an advanced beginner bike, and a solid intermediate bike. The tracer on the other hand is an advanced intermediate bike. You need some time in saddle to ride it. Oh sure, a noob could jump on one and go. Put it in B mode, TC 2, and they’d probably be okay. Put it in A mode though, and TC1, or TC off, and they’re in trouble. After a month or so of introspection, I put the Wee-Strom up for sale.

I loved my DL650. It was a good bike to me. I spent a lot of time in the saddle. More than some riders do in a lifetime. It was time for something new though. The Tracer had hooked me. I looked at the new DL1000 V-Strom. I looked at the Versys 1000, which in 2018 had a new look. I looked at the lower end of the BMW GS scales, the FG800. I looked at the KTM 990 for about 3 seconds before the price scared me away. I checked out the Honda Africa Twin, but it’s way too dual sport. I even looked at a lightly used Multistrada. Yamaha’s Tracer 900, formally FJ09, was the best value for money, the most comfortable, and the sportiest. So, off to a new dealer 50km away from home, and time to work out the finances and buy one. Two visits, and it was done. I was the owner of a brand new 2018 Tracer 900. Yamaha promptly released a 2019 Tracer 900 GT about a week later, which annoyed the crap out of me, but oh well. I didn’t need the hard side cases, or the advanced suspension. It seemed excessive for an additional $2500, and I was already pushing it with the $13,300 out the door for the base model. I would regret that later, but not then.

It was delivered to me in August of 2018, where I promptly rode it as much as possible right in to October. I managed just over 2000km in that time frame, and had an absolute blast. I did find issues with it. I needed bar risers. The stock windscreen is bad at highway speeds, and causes buffeting. The seat gets uncomfortable after about an hour. The foot pegs are a little too cramped. To top it all off, I was having a hard time selling my DL650. I was asking $3500, and getting constant low ball offers, and tire kickers. Fall is a terrible time to sell a bike, which is a lesson I should have known. As October closed out, and the weather turned really cold, I put the Tracer away in the garage, beside the DL650. Both of them looking sad and lonely. As the winter closed in, I would catch myself in the garage, sitting on the Tracer, and sometimes the old Wee-Strom, making motor sounds. I had my excitement to ride back, and I couldn’t wait for the next year. My marriage fell apart completely. For me it had been over for months already. I’d grieved for it. In that same October, I met a woman by chance. Both of us saying one thing, and really wanting something else. Life has a strange sense of humor, but sometimes you get lucky.

2019 was the year of change for me. Divorce. My now ex-wife, moved out in January. With all of this came working out shared custody of my children, a week with me, a week with their mother; repeat. I missed my kids. The woman I met a few months before was now my girlfriend. We were building a solid relationship, both of us coming from lonely places, and just wanting companionship. In March, my girlfriend moved in. Well, more accurately, she came over in mid February, and really just never left. March was just a formality. With her came a daughter. I’ve always loved being dad, so having another daughter around was kind of great. Within that was introducing each other to our children, and then our children to each other. It was a process, but overall, I think it went well. Writing this from 2020, our daughters all love each other and get along very well. Back on the bike realm, I posted the DL650 back up for sale in late March. It sold without hassle about 2 weeks later. A gentleman from Niagara region came and picked it up, and paid me my asking price. I was happy. I made sure she still ran well, rode it up to the rode for him when he arrived, and said goodbye to my longtime mount. I never heard from him again, so I presume she performed well for him that year.

As spring rolled around, and the Tracer came out of hibernation, a strange thing happened. The entire time I’ve owned a motorcycle, it’s been a solo act. My ex-wife had no interest to ever go for a ride with me. She actively didn’t trust me to safely take her anywhere on the bike. It was just something I did on my own, which sums up the last half of my marriage to her. My girlfriend on the other hand, once owned a bike. She sold it, because she’s happier riding on the back of one instead. I thought she might have been humoring me, but no, she wanted to go shopping for a jacket and helmet, and start riding with me. True to that, we picked her up a helmet and jacket in April, and she started coming out with me on rides. This was all new territory for me. I wasn’t used to having a passenger, and more importantly, I was very used to being alone on all of my jaunts. It took some getting used to, but I started to really enjoy her coming for rides with me. This of course is where my regret over not getting the Tracer 900 GT comes in. Those upgraded suspension components would have been really nice to have. I’ve looked into a new rear shock to upgrade the suspension to, and it’s nearly the price difference between the two models. Damn. Oh well. We still go for rides together, and still have lots of fun doing it. In July I picked up a comms system for our helmets, which has made the experience so much better. I’ll say this, if you ride with a passenger, get a comms system. I picked up a cheap system from Amazon, which works on Bluetooth, and it has made the rides together so much better.

That same spring, I also spent some money on the Tracer. Bar risers, because I really needed the bars a little closer. Givi rear rack and plate for my top box. Givi short touring screen to replace the stock one. I mentioned the buffeting at highway speeds previously, well, it was really bad. The Givi screen completely solved that issue, and was relatively cheap. Tank lock ring, and tank lock bag. I tried an air hawk for the seat, and didn’t like it. Little creature comforts, that have made some difference. I still need to move the foot pegs down and forward some. I’m considering engine guards, and highway pegs. The seat needs something. I’m torn between the factory comfort seat, or a custom seat. Half the people say the factory comfort seat is great, the other half say it’s terrible. The dealers don’t stock it, so I can’t test it out, which is a huge fail on Yamaha. I still need to make some mods to make this bike comfortable for longer trips. As it stands, after an hour I want to get off. If I get a 20 minute break, then I’m good for another hour. After that, it’s just increasing levels of not good. It’s mainly the seat, and the foot pegs position, but mainly the seat.

Lots continued to happen that spring; remember demo days? I sure did. I took real advantage of them in 2019. I went to two Yamaha days, and a Suzuki day, and it was really interesting. Kawasaki, Honda? You need to get in on this. For the Suzuki day, I went with a friend looking to buy his first bike. He was interested in the new DL650, and the new SV650. I was curious about the 2019 DL1000. We went on two demo rides that day. I took the DL1000 out both times, and he switched between the DL650 and the SV650. The DL1000 is about $1000 more than a Tracer 900 GT. I can’t, for the life of me, understand why. It has less power, and way less features. Traction control? Yeah, sort of. It’s aggressive, or off. ABS is there of course. Variable power modes, and throttle maps? Nope. Trip computer? Nope. Dash that looks like a KLR’s 20 years ago? Yup. What’s it have going for it? Smooth easy power. Comfy. Like, really comfy. Handling is okay, but slow, sluggish. Similar to my old DL650, but you could feel the extra weight. Torque. I could role from a 80km/h zone, running at 95 in fifth gear, into a 50km/h zone, and just roll off the throttle. No down shift. Coming back out, just roll back on the throttle, and it picks back up no issues, just smooth. It all felt very soft, and comfortable. It was easily accessible power, with no edges. I actually did like it. It also made me feel better with my choice of the Tracer. The clutch though, god I love a Suzuki clutch; so nice. I was back to hating my Tracer clutch that day.

The next demo day was Yamaha at a new dealer in Peterborough. I was very excited for this day, because I was really interested in the Super Tenere. This is Yamaha’s big adventure touring machine. 1200cc V-twin engine. 110hp. Heavy adjustable suspension. Similar bells and whistles to the Tracer. What a machine. I’m going to be honest, I want a Super Tenere. I rode it that day with an open mind, and oh boy was it great. Much sportier than the DL1000 from Suzuki. Slightly nicer clutch than the Tracer. Not as much bonkers power, but more than enough to have some fun. The handling is odd. I don’t really know how to describe it. Ryan at Fortnine did a video review of it last year or the year before, and describes the handling. It feels top heavy almost, even though it’s not, which somehow translates into this effortless cornering. It’s a strange beast to ride, but enjoyable, right on the edge of boring. Crank up the engine, and you can keep up with a lot of other bikes easily. No, it’s not going to post a 0 to 100 time under 3 seconds like a Tracer can. It takes 3.2 seconds, apparently. Yeah, it’s still a really fast bike if you have a mind to ride it that way. The really impressive part is the jump from say 80km/h to 120km/h. It’s peppy. I’d wager a little peppier than the Tracer, which is down to the greater torque of that big V-twin motor. Unlike the Suzuki day, I had time to spare, and spent a good amount of time there. I rode the Super Tenere twice. I rode another bike I can’t recall, and I rode Yamaha’s newest creation, the 2019 Niken. I’ll be blunt, if you’re tall, don’t bother even looking at the Niken. It’s the same motor as the Tracer, the CP3 847cc beast. It’s heavier. It’s massively cramped. The seating position relative to the bars is something between sport and cruise. The foot pegs are in a terrible position. The design of the bike precludes any reasonable mods for taller riders. It’s all very disappointing, because the handling is wonderful, with pretty good performance.

Demo day number 3 was again for Yamaha, a month after the last, at the same dealership I purchased my Tracer from. I was a little more focused this time around, and specifically wanted to ride the Super Tenere again, as well as the XSR 900. I tried for the XSR 700, but no luck, I ran out of time. The 2 rides I took on the Super Tenere this time around just cemented that I want one. This year, I plan to attend again, and bring my spouse with me. I want to bring her along as a pillion on the Tenere, to see what she thinks. I liked everything about the Super Ten this time around, same as before. Really lovely bike. The XSR 900, I wanted to try just for fun. Take my Tracer, shave off some weight, any wind protection, and you have the XSR 900. Its small, nimble, and fast. It is so very fast. I thoroughly enjoyed riding this bike, with the only issue I had being stuck behind a complete noob riding a FZ09. The guy could not ride. The FZ09, if you didn’t know, is the same bike, but done up sportier, while the XSR 900 is retro styled. That’s it. Same motor, and electronics. Same weight. We hit our midway point, and this guy wouldn’t stop complaining about the bike not performing. The Yamaha rep on the ride actually took it for a quick hop up the road and back. There was nothing wrong with the bike, but if you’re granny shifting at 4000 rpm, it’s not going to go very fast. Peak horsepower is around 10,000 rpm. I should have got out ahead of this guy, but I was being polite. Never again. I will do my best to always be right behind the Yamaha rep leading the ride. The XSR 900 though, way too much fun. As a bike for a tall guy? For 20 minutes at a time, I absolutely recommend it. The combo of power and handling with the light weight, makes it the most fun bike I’ve ever ridden. After 20 minutes? No, I can’t. It’s too cramped. Too small. You could mod it some, raise the bars. Possibly lower the pegs. Custom seat. I’m not sure it’s worth that effort, when you get 90% of that performance with the Tracer, and it fits a tall frame much better.

The rest of 2019 was filled with change, and lots of rides. I managed to put 4000km on the Tracer this past season. More than I was doing previous years, though I could do more. I have mods I want to make still. My spouse and I have been looking at Goldwing’s, which the newer model is quite nice. Trimmer, comfy, and roomier than I expected. Heading into 2020, there are demo rides I want to take. I’m seriously considering trading my Tracer 900 in against a Super Tenere, but that depends on demo rides with a pillion to confirm if that’s a reasonable move.

My whole journey up to this point all started in my childhood driveway, riding circles on a little bicycle. It’s been a strange experience writing this all out, and thinking about all the little tangents, and offshoots, of my journey. This has made me examine parts of my life I had left alone. Aspects of my life I hadn’t considered. I hope you, dear reader, have found this at least interesting, if not entertaining. Thank you for sticking with me, and reading it all. If you read this entry first, you should really go back to the beginning, and read it all from part 1.

Index:
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3

Life moved on after that glorious fall group ride. The winter came. I found a new job. I had a second child, another daughter. I rode less, but now I commuted more. When the winter gave up the ghost, and most of the debris was off the roads, I took the KLR out of the garage and headed to work on it. 100km, 1.5 hours, to Richmond Hill. The last 15 minutes of that commute was on the 404. I had never taken the KLR much on roads over 90km/h. Sure, it will happily do 120km/h, but I just never needed it to. 15 minutes at 115km/h was terrible. The vibrations of that big single nearly ruined my hands. Literally, for half an hour, I couldn’t feel my hands; they just tingled and burned. I was convinced there must be something wrong with my bike, it couldn’t possibly be this bad on the highway. I was wrong. With the stock tires, and that big single, it was that bad. I had options. New tires. Change the sprockets to lower rev’s at highway speed. Modify the engine a little. Everything I needed to do would make the bike worse at all the things I enjoyed, just to improve that short jaunt on the highway. The problem was, I couldn’t ride it on the highway like that, because the vibrations literally made it unrideable. I was just about set on not riding to work. Just suck it up, and use my car only, which was going to mean a whole lot less riding. It was sad, but it seemed like the only option.

Obviously I didn’t take that route. I’d loved that KLR, and truth be told, I catch myself looking at used ones now and again to this day. It’s not fast. It’s not sexy. It’s got about as much power as the average compact family sedan when it comes to performance. There was something about that big old single, for just bopping around back roads, I can’t explain it. The big elephant in the room was highway performance. I couldn’t live with that. I’d already discovered dual sport wasn’t really my thing, so the days of the KLR were numbered, I had just expected to keep it longer. I went shopping, and ended up looking at Suzuki V-Stroms. The DL650A to be precise. After a rather fierce and brief internal debate with myself, I decided to buy one. Back when I was looking at the Versys, the V-Strom caught my eye, but I chose against it, frankly, because it’s ugly. Now, in 2011, it was still ugly. It was also functional, with good highway handling, much better performance, and way more power. Most importantly, there was a factory tall touring seat option, and incredible aftermarket support. I was sold, and off I went to talk with Jim at the local dealership about trading in my KLR and buying a V-Strom. I ended up dealing with one of the owners instead, a really interesting man I’ll call Barney. After much less trouble this time around, I was the proud owner of a 2011 Suzuki DL650A, V-Strom. Delivery was even smoother this time around. Sadly, a strange thing was happening in my life when I purchased this bike. I was the sleep deprived father of 2, and despite an exhaustive search, I couldn’t find a single picture of my actual motorcycle. So here’s a Suzuki marketing one instead.

This bike was day and night coming from my KLR. ~75hp. More torque. A sixth gear. ABS brakes. Better wind protection. Better dash. Better everything. The stock configuration of a DL650 is not great however. It is in fact aimed towards significantly shorter riders. Suzuki makes 3 seats for the V-Strom, even still. From shortest to tallest they are the DL650 stock seat, the DL1000 stock seat, and the tall touring seat. There is 20mm, just shy of an inch, difference between each of them. Going from the shortest seat to the tallest seat is 40mm more seat height. I rode the DL650 in its stock configuration for 3 hours when I first got it. It was absolute murder; everything hurt me. Cramped legs, back, shoulders. I spent the next few months investing in my new bike. Tall touring seat. Peg and foot control lowering kit. Rox Pivot Risers and all new brake lines. Madstad bracket for the windshield. Givi monokey rack and top case. Tank bag. Sheep skin for the seat. When I was done, the seat height was tall (+~60mm from stock with the sheep skin), the pegs were lowered (1” down, 1/2” forward), and she was the most comfortable bike I had ever ridden. A couple of hours in the saddle was very doable, with minimal shoulder or back pain. More importantly, my legs had enough room.

Riding to work was a dream, and a nightmare. A dream, because it was a wonderful ride. A nightmare, because Toronto drivers are pretty much universally morons. In that first summer, doing 200km+ per day, 5 days a week, I had minor close calls daily. All of those close calls happened in Toronto, or just on the outskirts. Once I was back in the country heading back towards Peterborough, the ride was good. By this point I had ditched my original modular helmet for a proper full face one. It was dark coloured, red, black, with a little silver. My jacket was a Joe Rocket alter ego, and this will be a whole different article, but they are only available in black, in tall sizes. So, dark helmet, dark jacket, black motorcycle. Towards the end of the summer, I was getting sick of dodging cagers. I stopped in at GP Bikes one day, taking the 401 in to work for a late shift, and picked up a hi-vis vest to go over my jacket. It was ugly, and it worked. The close calls pretty much stopped happening, and after a week I was sold on hi-vis. I think it was when people would periodically pull off the road in front of me that really sold me on it. These days hi-vis is everywhere, but back then it was less common. People assumed I was a cop, or a paramedic, and got out of my way. More importantly, people saw me. I expect down the road I’ll write in more detail about hi-vis, and my experiences.

For 3 years I rode that V-Strom into work as soon as reasonable in the spring, and as late into the fall as I could manage in the cold mornings. April to October for the most part. I wouldn’t leave in the rain, opting for my car instead, but I wouldn’t let rain in the forecast later in the day stop me either. 30,000km, and a set of tires, in 3 years. It was during this time I had my first, and only, truly bad close call.

It was fall of 2013, my third season with the Wee-Strom. I had lots of hours in the saddle, and I absolutely hated Toronto drivers by this point. Coming off of the 404 onto Bloomington Side Rd, I encountered a car driving very erratically. The driver was on his phone, and really not paying attention. The road goes from 4 lanes down to 2, shortly after this point, forcing a merge. Normally, no big deal. This car merged nearly in to me, cutting me off, and forcing me to brake harder than I like. I was immediately angry over this. About 2km down the road, it briefly expands to 4 lanes at an intersection and set of lights. My plan was to pass this car, who was speeding up , and slowing down, and swerving all around in his lane. He hit the shoulder a couple of times and kicked up dirt and gravel, which is never fun. I just wanted to get away from him. Here is where my mistake occurred. I fixated on getting away from this driver, so much, that while I checked the intersection as the road flared out into 4 lanes, I didn’t check it again. I moved into the right lane, and rolled on the throttle, trying to get away from this distracted driver, worried he was going to merge into me again without signaling. In that time, it went from green to red, and I ran the red light.

When I crossed into the intersection it had just turned green for the other drivers. I saw a large black SUV start to move into the intersection from my right, and braked hard, with zero hope of stopping. Thankfully the driver of that black Chevy Tahoe saw me coming, and braked almost as quickly as he hit the gas. He honked at me, and flipped me off, as I evaded to the left a little. I pulled off on to the shoulder on the other side of the intersection and was nearly sick in my helmet. The implications of what had just taken place were heavy on me. I sat on the side of the road for 10 minutes, shaking, mad at myself. Stunned at how fast, and how stupid the whole situation had been. I wish the Tahoe driver had pulled off to yell at me. I wanted to thank him for being aware of his surroundings. He saved me from my own stupid mistake. I owe him thanks, because he probably saved my life. I was easily traveling at 80km/h when I entered the intersection. The rest of the ride home was somber, and terrifying. When I got home, I parked the bike for the season. It was a little early, but I didn’t have the stomach to ride any more that year.

2014 was a strange year. I didn’t want to get the bike back out. So I was late getting it out, nearly may when I finally did. I was scared for the first few rides. I had lost my enthusiasm to ride. I no longer staged at every traffic light, to see how fast I could get to the speed limit. I just rode. This was compounded further when in early May, she let me down. I was coming along Bloomington Side Rd, when the dash just died on me. First the ABS went bonkers, and then the dash just turned off. Shortly there after, the bike just died. Dead. No power, nothing. I sat on the side of the road wondering what had happened. I assumed something had overheated, so I let it site for 20 minutes. After which, I jumped on, and it fired right up with no problems. Great, off I went, for another 5km, when there was a repeat of the same behaviour. The key difference this time? It was totally dead now. The battery flat lined, and the stator was dead.

This turned out to be a common problem for the first and second gen DL650’s. The stator generates 400 watts of power, while the bike uses about 300 watts to run, leaving 100 watts for accessories. The DL650 uses a shunt R&R unit, which shunts unused power back to the stator to dissipate as heat, 100 watts worth in my case. The stator is oil cooled, which is fine, however what the manual doesn’t mention is the need to run your oil at the very top of the fill marks, or even a little past. Running your oil level in the middle of the fill marks on the sight glass, means the top of the stator is not being cooled enough. When that happens, the top of the stator burns, shorts, and no more stator. Suzuki knew about this problem, wouldn’t cover it under warranty, but fixed it on the 2014 DL1000, and I believe on the 3rd gen DL650. They fixed it by using a switching R&R unit, which instead of shunting unused power back to the stator to dissipate as heat, simply switches off when power is not being used, effectively stopping power generation for micro seconds based on demand.

This didn’t help me, and turned in to a 5 hour ordeal of trying to get a flat bed tow truck to pick me up. I was right beside the 404 on ramp, actually on the grass between the on ramp and Bloomington. I called york regional police to ask about towing services. They explained, because I was on the 404 ramp, I had to call the OPP. Fine. I called the OPP, who explained since I was on Bloomington I had to call the york region police… Yeah, that actually happened. No one would help me. Calls to local towing companies went unanswered. Several motorcyclists stopped to see if they could help, which sadly they could not. I laid beside my bike, using it as shade, and baked slowly, trying to get a tow. Finally a conventional tow truck stopped, and asked if I’d called a company yet. He then got a hold of his boss, who an hour later, brought a flat bed over. I broke down at 7:20, it was not after noon. Then began the ordeal of negotiating a price. He started at $300 to take me 15km to my work place. I countered with take me to Peterborough, he eventually settled on $80 to take me the 15km.

When I eventually got to work after 1pm, I was sun burned, dehydrated, and exhausted. I had already spoken to my father, who was borrowing a trailer, and on his way to Richmond Hill with said trailer. My boss was great about all of this, and just counted the day as a sick day. I was in no condition to work at that point. I was basically good to sit at my desk, and drink water. When my dad showed up, I thanked my boss, and left. Dad and I loaded the bike, and head for home. There was very little talk, I think I slept for some of the drive home. Dad was a good sport about the whole thing. When we got back to my house, Dad unloaded my bike, and pushed it into my garage for me. With thanks, and a refusal to take gas money, my father left to return the trailer, and go home. My dad is a pretty cool guy. I let the Wee-Strom sit. I was angry with it. Being stranded had been the single worst experience on two wheels I’d ever had. It was infuriating because I’d done all the proper maintenance, and she’d still let me down. That it turned out to be a known problem that Suzuki was aware of, but refused to fix, really pissed me off. It took 3 weeks before I ordered a new stator. It took more than a month for me to install it after it showed up. It wasn’t until mid July that I had it on the road again.

And right there, in July, my life changed again. I was offered a new position at work. It was a promotion, and it moved me to an office in Peterborough, 15 minutes from home. This fundamentally changed my lifestyle. In July of 2014 I had a 5 year old, and a 3 year old. When I was commuting to Richmond Hill, I got up at 5:30am, and left the house before 6:20am. I got home around 6pm. It was a long day. I didn’t see my kids enough. I was tired all the time. Suddenly the commute was gone. I could put my daughter on the bus in the morning, and take my younger daughter to day care, all on my way to work. I could pick them up after work. Make dinner. Spend lots of time with my kids. It was glorious. What it wasn’t, however, was conducive to riding my motorcycle. I stopped riding in 2014. 2015 was worse in someways, I rode some, but barely at all. 2016 was more of the same. 2017 was the year I decided to ride more. I put my kids on the school bus, and rode to work. To pick them up after work I had to ride home, and get my car, but so be it. I wanted to ride more. In the summer, I had to drive my kids to summer camp, then drive back home, and take my motorcycle to work. Same with picking them up, just in reverse. I did it anyway. I wanted to ride. I went on as many solo rides as I could, but there wasn’t many. I went on a couple of small group rides. Any excuse I could come up with, I rode. Need eggs, took the bike. Run to the post office? Took the bike. Any excuse, take the bike. I owned the V-Strom right to 2019, and put less than 10,000km on it between 2014 and 2018. Most of those happened in 2017 and in to 2018.

I’ve mentioned my wife of the time once or twice here; she is the mother of my children, and I divorced her in 2019. It was during this period of time, roughly 2013 to 2018, when my marriage was failing. She had become very career focused, and very self interested. When my job role shifted, and I was home more, it was her ticket to be home less. I was taking the kids to and from school, or camp, or daycare, because I was home more, so why not. She was traveling for work, or pleasure, and generally not around. When she was around, she wasn’t interested in being alone with the kids. When she wasn’t traveling for work, suddenly she was working a second job at the gym as her hobby. A major reason I stopped riding so much from 2014 to 2016 was her. I had to be the parent. My children are the most important thing to me in the world, so this didn’t seem like a bad thing at the time to me. By 2017 I felt like a single parent, with a roommate that paid the bills, and slept in the same bed I did. She had never been interested in my motorcycles. True, she had encouraged me before we had kids, to get my license. She gifted the initial course to me. I’m thankful for all of that. The person she was then, was not the person she was just a few years later. That made motorcycling my thing, mine. It was uniquely me. In 2017, feeling like a single parent, I decided I had to live still, regardless, and that’s where my new found desire to ride came from. It was hard, and I spent a lot of time running all over the place, just so I could ride. I invested in new gear that year, boots, jackets, helmet. I cleaned up the bike some. I put myself into being the best dad I could, without losing myself. Riding my bike was keeping part of me going, just for me. I had other hobbies, of course, but riding was just for me.

Index:
Part 1
Part 2

In very early 2008, I went to the Toronto motorcycle show. I had been before, but this was different. I was there now, owning a helmet, boots, gloves, and jacket. I was there actually shopping for a motorcycle. In 2008, I was looking for nothing larger than 650cc’s. I had learned enough to know I didn’t need lots of power to start with. 2007 had introduced a new motorcycle, one I was very interested in; the Kawasaki Versys 650. The replacement of the venerable KLE500, meant to compliment the KLR650 in the lineup. I was absolutely in love with the bike. The styling. The motor. The seat height. Going to the Toronto motorcycle show was my first chance to see one in person, and more importantly, sit on one.

Oh man, I was excited. I had been looking forward to this moment since around August of 2007. This was the bike I wanted. My first crushing disappointment. The seat height of 33.3 inches sounded amazing, especially after the cramped little TTR230. You can see in the photo how excited I was to be sitting on what amounted to my dream bike at the time. Seat height was good, bar position was a little sporty, but easy to fix. Everything appeared to be in order. Put my feet on the pegs, and problem number one. The relation of the seat to the pegs is a little tight. Puts my knees at a tighter bend than I’d like. Not a show stopper, but not great. The second problem, and this was the show stopper, is the cosmetic scoops in the shape of the gas tank. They are meant to be contoured cutouts for your knees. If you have a 32” inseam, you are good to go. If you have a 34” inseam, forget about it. Kawasaki make the bizarre choice of making a bike with a 33.3” seat height, and cut outs for knees for an inseam less than the seat height. If the scooped cut outs on the tank had been 2 inches deeper, my first bike would have been very different, and most likely the last decade and change would have been too.

With great disappointment, I walked away from the Versys, heartbroken and sad. I could have just left the motorcycle show right then, but I was traveling with two other people, and we were doing the whole show. While at the Kawasaki booth I sat on every bike on display. I wasn’t interested in cruisers, and this confirmed it, because low seat heights combined with cramped foot controls, and a lengthy reach to the bars is a terrible combination. I guess it works for the shorter, or average I suppose, among us; not us tall guys though. I sat on sport bikes, and wondered how anyone my size could ride them. I sat on the Concours, which I have to admit I liked, but was still pretty cramped. I also sat on the Super Sherpa, a 250cc dual sport, and the old school, but newly revamped for 2018, KLR650.

I was at the show for a few more hours, and while I saw a few bikes I liked, most of them were way beyond my means to afford. Early BMW GS bikes were lovely. KTM adventure bikes. Of course this was early days for “adventure touring” bikes, and back then we didn’t refer to them as that. They were dual sport bikes. The funny thing was, before we left, I circled back to the Kawasaki booth. I had to sit on the Versys once more to make sure I wasn’t crazy. Sadly, I wasn’t. What surprised me more, was sitting on the KLR650 again. It felt familiar. More so than most other bikes had. It’s dirt bike styling, and ergonomics were like being home to me. I learned a lot about myself on this trip. The big thing was the standard riding position. Not sport riding position, not cruiser riding position. I was most comfortable on a motorcycle that offered a standard upright riding position. I had decided on a KLR650, and went about buying one.

My first hurdle was the dealership. I know, not supposed to be a hurdle, right? Well, wrong. First lesson, power sports dealers are a lot different than car dealers. They’re not as hungry; probably due to the lack of competition like auto dealers. When people go there, they want to buy, and don’t generally need to be sold to. Second lesson, no test rides… That last one took me by surprise. I’d purchased a new car by this point. I knew the drill, you got to test drive before you buy. Not so with motorcycles. I’ve since learned that this is complex, and depends on the brand, and the dealership. Generally speaking, no test rides. The dealer I used was local to me, but will remain unnamed. They have one sales man, who we will refer to as “Jim”. Jim wasn’t much interested in helping. Jim didn’t need to. Jim would fill out paperwork, and that was about it. I walked in, set on what I wanted. They had a brand new, red 2008 KLR650 sitting on the floor. I wanted it. A little over $7000 out the door. I was working a steady job, making reasonable money, and could afford this easily. I sat down with Jim after quite a lot of effort on my part, and went through the process. Third lesson, don’t finance through a dealership. Seriously, don’t. 12% interest over 3 years. On top of that, I was declined, which as it turned out, was in my best interest. Jim basically told me tough luck, have a nice day. Lovely. So as part of that third lesson, go to your bank. Talk to them. I was able to secure financing in 30 minutes, at 3.5% interest. Back to the dealership, fight with Jim, hand him $1000 down, and tell him to get it going. Alright. Bike is on the floor, my name is on it, should be able to pick it up in a day or two. Fourth lesson, nothing happens quickly at a motorcycle dealership. 2 weeks go by. Nothing. Call them, leave messages, nothing. Stop by the dealership at the 2 week mark; “we’ll call you”. 3 week mark, stop by again. This time is different. Jim looks at me funny. Walks over, which is a first, because I always had to go find him, and asks me why I haven’t been in to pick up my bike. I’m dumbfounded. They never called. It was ready the day after my last drop in, a week before.

With more excitement than anger, I settle up the remaining financial transaction with Jim, and go home to get my motorcycle gear. 20 minutes, and some begging later, I’m dropped off at the dealership with all of my gear by a friend. I run in, speak with Jim again, then one of the owners. 20 minutes more, and they’re pushing my new bike out into the parking lot. This is the moment I’ve been waiting more than a decade for, my first real motorcycle. I put on all my gear, only partially listening to the run down on the functions of everything on the bike, while it idles away, warming up. I miss most of it. I shake hands with the owner, and head mechanic, and I’m off. My first ride was short, just a quick hop home. It’s over in less time than I had to wait while they got it ready to wheel out to me. My first solo ride, on the road. It was amazing.

In that first year I spent a lot of time taking short rides. 20 minutes here, 45 minutes there. I did some long rides, and some short. I went on a few group rides. In that first season I put just shy of 8000km on her, and wore out the rear tire. I spent almost all of that time on country highways, 80km/h speed limits. I ventured into dual sport territory a few times, taking road allowances, fire routes, logging trails, and some single track. I managed to get into places I didn’t think I could. In that first year I was learning a lot about my new motorcycle, and a lot about myself. I realized, despite the appeal to it in theory, dual sport riding wasn’t my thing. The KLR650 is heavy compared to any dedicated 250cc dirt bike; 500lbs really heavy. I dropped it twice in the first year; once when the wind blew it over in my driveway, and once in some loose gravel and mud on a trail. It sucked picking it up both times. I could do it, but it was not fun. With that lesson, I started modding the bike to suit a more street oriented attitude. In retrospect, I was really making it more comfortable for my large frame, but at the time I was telling myself it was about on road handling.

This involved a sheep skin on the seat, by Alaska Leather, fit specifically to the KLR. Small mod, but it added an inch to the seat height, and made it way more comfortable after 30 minutes in the saddle. 3” Rox pivot risers were next, which also meant replacing the stock rubber front brake line with a braided steal one. Bam, better brakes, and more comfy bars. Well, with better brakes, the tendency to nose dive under braking became much more apparent. No problem, talk to the folks at what is now Twisted Throttle Canada, but was then “A Vicious Cycle”, and install progressive front suspension springs, with heavy fork oil. No more nose dives. Gaining an inch on the seat is great, but the not so great wind protection became even less effective. I installed a tall touring screen by CalSci, which made long journey’s far more enjoyable and comfortable. All of this made it less capable off road, but more comfortable on road. More importantly, more comfortable for a tall person. At the time I only had one other friend that rode, and he’s 5’9”. He sat on my trusty KLR, and looked ridiculous, like a child sitting on his dad’s motorcycle. When I sat on it, it looked small. The difference was comical. The changes I made were small, but improved my overall comfort massively. 2 hours in the saddle was no longer something to avoid, it was easy. Over the next couple of years, I added some small things, like luggage; a tank bag, and tail bag. Saddle bags for longer trips. The core changes I made, the seat, bars and windscreen were the biggest most profound ones.

In 2009, I had my first child. Life happened, and while I continued to ride, my focus became my daughter. The only notable thing in 2009 was taking my final test to graduate from my M2 to my M license. I took the M2 exit course. I don’t regret it, but I don’t know if it is worth it for everyone. It’s basically a weekend. You come on Friday evening for the in class portion. Saturday is a day long group ride. One of the instructors, riding a Suzuki V-Strom was really excited to see my KLR 650, the only dual sport bike in the lot that weekend. When I look back, I always remember how excited that instructor was, like he was sick of cruisers and crotch rockets. You team up with 3 other people and an instructor for your group ride. My group was composed of a woman maybe 4 years older than me, riding a cruiser. A young guy, 20 at the most, riding a tiny little 250 rebel. A man in his 40’s on a Harley. Lastly, me on my KLR. The woman and I got along well. The young guy made everything a competition. The other fella in our group I can’t remember a thing about. I’m not sure he said more than a few words to the rest of us. Your instructor hands out radios and ear pieces, which everyone puts on. This is so you can hear the instructor when they give you directions during the ride. Then we all head out with an instructor in a chase vehicle, giving directions.

The day goes by in a blur of varied riding. City, country, highway, over and over. Practice the same things, over and over. Clearly they’re running us through all the scenarios for the test. Throughout the instructor is providing feedback to each person in my group. Everyone gets lots of feedback, but me. I get no feedback. When we stop for lunch, I get the instructor off to one side, and ask her why shes not giving me any feedback. Her response was along the lines of, when I did something wrong, she’d let me know. I wasn’t sure how to take that. I probably had the most experience riding out of my whole group, but I was expecting some feedback. After lunch, I was asked to lead the group on a random ride around the outskirts of the city. Afterwards we ended at the college we started at, about 6 hours after we left. My only feedback was to ride the same way tomorrow during my test.

The following day, we met at a coffee shop in a fairly central location of the city. The rest of my group had been instructed to be there at the same time as I had, so we all sat down and had a coffee. The woman and I chatted about nothing. The younger guy bragged about how awesome he was. The slightly older fella said nothing. Each of us, in turn, went out for 30 minutes. The older gentlemen was first. When they arrived back, he looked upset, stayed in the parking lot, and just left without a word. I presume he made a big mistake, that caused an automatic fail, but I don’t know for sure. I was up next, which after that seemed fairly intimidating. Outside I was given a radio and ear piece again. The instructor from the day before would be marking my test, while the instructor enthusiastic about my KLR would be driving the chase vehicle and giving me instructions through the radio. I was nervous, though looking back I don’t know why.

The woman and the younger guy were watching me pretty closely as I pulled out of the lot to start my test. For the next 30 minutes, I was given lots of directions on where to turn, and otherwise left alone. It was a strange experience. At one point they forgot to tell me which way at a t junction, and we sat at the stop sign for nearly 30 seconds before they spoke up. When they tested me on getting on to the highway, and back off again, it was very busy, and not messing about, I got onto the highway, merged into the fast lane as directed, and back, then caught the next exit. At which point I was told they’d lost site of me going down the on ramp, and asked to pull off when safe to do so to wait for them. That was off the highway, on the shoulder. When they did catch up half a minute later, I was told I must have done a good job, and we’d just continue the test. All in all, I lost 1 mark on the whole test. I stopped at a set of lights, behind 4 cars. Stopping at the correct safe distance, put me partially blocking the driveway of a gas station. Trying to be polite, I then pulled ahead, to give someone room to pull out and go the opposite direction. That pull up cost me my one mark off a perfect test. I shouldn’t complain, but the fact that I stopped the correct distance away initially, and then pulled up, bothers me still.

When I returned to the coffee shop, and was told the good news, I was pretty excited. I went in and wished the other two good luck, telling them I’d passed. The woman was up next, and lastly the young guy. I didn’t wait around; it felt wrong to do so, so I said my goodbyes and have no idea if they both passed or not. I’m fairly certain the woman did. She was competent, and understood the rules and mechanics. Her feedback had been minor the day before. The young guy, if he could slow down and stop being cocky, should have passed easily, though he did get the most feedback the day before. I wonder from time to time what happened to those people I shared a weekend with. At the end of that weekend, I was a fully licensed motorcyclist.

2010 rolled around, and I was downsized. The company I worked for figured they could save money by using a contractor, and let me go, along with a dozen other employees, right at the end of the summer. I was unemployed for the first time in a decade. My wife at the time was pregnant again. It was a rough fall that year. I still rode, and it was during this time I had the best group ride I’d been on up to that point, and possibly since. My dad, who rides a Honda Goldwing GL1500, is a honorary member of the Red Knights motorcycle club. He invited me to join him that year on their fall colours ride. It was early October, and pretty cold in the mornings by then. I remember riding out to Bobcaygeon with my dad to meet the group at the Tim Hortons. We had to leave before 8am to make it on time, and it was freezing. I remember getting half way, and considering turning around, I was so cold. It was under 10C that morning, with frost on parts of the road from the night before. When we finally arrived in Bobcaygeon, and stopped to gas up before heading to Tim’s, I nearly bailed then. I stuck it out, wishing I had put on long johns, and met the group at Tim’s. Hot coffee, a sit in the sun, some scrumptious carb loaded goodness, and I almost felt human again.

We set off around 9:30, the temperature was above 10C by then, and I was feeling good. I’d never been in a large group before, and riding with 30+ other motorcycles was new for me. I wasn’t the total odd man out, the fella leading the whole ride was on a classic Triumph tiger from the 70’s, complete with square profile tires. There was one man on a Burgman 650. The bulk of the riders were on Harley’s and other assorted cruises, with two other Goldwing’s. I fell into the pack near the back, afraid to mess up in front of others. I was still fairly green. We headed towards Minden, taking nice side roads, with some jaunts along major roads. We ended up on hwy 35 near Fenelon Falls. By then, I had relaxed, and was starting to get annoyed with the cruisers. They accelerated about as quickly as a 90’s era K car, and that’s saying something, because the paltry 40hp of the KLR was not blistering by any means. During this time I noticed the smaller lighter bikes all at the front. Taking off on the group, and then eventually caught a few kliks down the road. The Goldwing’s right behind them. Leaving our first break spot, outside of Minden on the way to Dorset, I made sure to get into the group ahead of the Goldwing’s, near the Burgman. What a difference. The guys at the front were picking up speed quicker, riding a little sportier, and generally having more fun from my perspective. I was having a great time now, heading into West Guilford, north of Haliburton.

Here is where I found one of my best experiences as a rider. Harburn Rd, east of West Guilford. This road, back in 2010, was freshly paved, smooth, and an unending twisting ribbon of perfection all the way to Haliburton. By now, I was behind the lead rider on his Triumph. Turns out this gentlemen raced in rally’s and enduros for the last 30 years, which is to say, he could ride. Well, I was up for the challenge it seemed, because I stay glued to him the whole way. It was some of the most technical and challenging riding I’ve ever done. I locked the rear wheel twice going into corners; here I will credit that old Elsinore CR250 for saving me, because it felt familiar when it happened. All the way along Harburn we rode, as quick as we could, which is probably faster than we should have. Just before it straightened out, coming through the last turn, the Burgman scooter passed us both on the inside of the corner. It was surreal. We pulled into Haliburton and parked. This was our destination for lunch. As I was getting off my bike, and taking off my helmet, the Triumph rider, our group leader, walked up to me. He had a funny look on his face, and told me I was absolutely insane. I was genuinely concerned I’d upset him.

My father pulled up with the other Goldwing’s a minute or so later. Once he was off his bike, I told him about the strange look I got, and the comment. He’d known this man for more than 30 years, and just laughed. It was a compliment, not an insult. That got a good laugh from everyone near by. On previous rides, no one bothered to even try to keep up to the man on the Triumph, I was apparently the first to really stick to him, though the Burgman rider had to have been close the whole time as well. 5 minutes later and the rest of the cruiser squad pulled in. We headed off to lunch, and a less eventful trip home after that. That run down Harburn road has really stayed with me over the past decade. It was fantastic, an experience I don’t think I’ll even recreate or have again. I suppose you never forget your first really great road. I haven’t, though I suspect I’ll be chasing it for a long time to come.