Nice day
for ark building…
Guido discovers that letting his progeny loose on the roads is something even
the gods have their reservations about.
There’s
more than a little irony in this: For years my parents have fretted over their
‘little boy’ having an interest in motorcycles, as a consequence suffering
occasional waking nightmares over whether I’ll finally bin it hard enough
to end up in hospital – or worse. The situation has improved over the years,
as they’ve gradually worked out that first, I’m unlikely to give up
at this late stage; And second, there seems to be a reasonably strong survival
instinct at work. Although you still hear the occasional concerned noises.
And guess what? Now it’s my turn. I got that heart wrench they must have
felt countless times the other day, watching Ms A set off on her maiden solo
voyage on a motorcycle. She wobbled off down the driveway and out of sight,
while muggins was left wondering whether she’d be hit by a falling road
train. Silly, really – she was only going down the street.
Both my daughters now have their L-plates and are out on the road. Ms M junior
and Ms A recently decided to bite the proverbial bullet and get their motorcycle
learner permits. What could go wrong?
Nothing, really – well at least not for the first two of three sessions,
where they got some practice and passed their theory exam.
But when it came to their final practical test on a motorcycle, old Huey upstairs
let loose with both barrels. According to The Age newspaper the next morning,
"The State Emergency Service received more than 2500 telephone calls for
assistance last night after 120mm of rain fell in Melbourne, the highest level
since records began being kept in 1856." It was a good time to build an
ark…
Yep, not only was it bucketing down, but blowing a gale at the same time. It
was rather like doing your test on the less hospitable side of Antarctica, I'm
told. So maybe you can understand the mile wide grins on their faces, given
they passed in such hideous conditions.
And so we get to the maiden solo road ride. While they’ve both faffed around
off-road, it’s been pretty haphazard – hence the parental concern.
Motorcyclists can be terrible hypocrites. For years yours etc has been encouraging
(unrelated) others to ride. At the same time I’ve met a number of prominent
industry folk who’ve raised families by selling motorcycles to other folks’
kids and then, with (to their credit) some embarrassment admit they’d rather
their own children didn’t ride on the road. That just proves they’re
human.
Something that it’s very easy to lose sight of is how financially tough
it can be to get on the road when in your late teens. We’ve done it on
the cheap, by grabbing a Suzuki TS185 bought from Don Stafford a few years ago
for $900 and getting it registered. Actually, the rego process cost more than
the bike – about $900 in repairs (including tyres, chain and sprockets
etcetera) plus just shy of $400 in registration fees. Plus a new helmet and
gloves at around $500 per head.
Okay, so that’s still less than $3000, which isn’t a fortune. Not
for those of us established in some sort of career – but to an 18-year-old
who thinks $15/hour is terrific pay, it’s almost unimaginable. With parental
help, it can be a fleabite, which to me suggests we need to do a lot more to
get parents on-side if we want young folk joining the ranks.
Assistance from the previous generation only goes so far, however. Althea, puffed
up with pride after having got the ticket to ride, marched into the garage,
grabbed me by the lapel, pointed at Hannibal the Hayabusa (which is now developing
220 horses at the crank – a story for another day) and declared, “You
have to learn to share!” Dream on, kiddo…
Guy "Guido" Allen
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