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.