Dr Frankenstein and me
Guido comes to the awful realisation that he may have created a monster…
“Come-orrrn! Gimme the keys! Go-orrrn!” Such are the words that now give me waking nightmares on pretty much a daily basis. They are spoken by youngest unmarried Ms A jnr, as she bounces up and down on the seat of Mac the Valk.
Ms A is six months into her apprenticeship on a road bike and is getting an itchy throttle hand. The 1980 CB250N, it seems, has lost its attraction –- I suspect she’s getting tired of having to keep it buried in the redline just to maintain normal freeway speeds. It’s all the more frustrating when you consider she’s used to flying aircraft that cruise at 260km/h.
The beginning of this long and very slippery slope can be marked by the day after she got her bike licence. Marching out to the garage, where I was happily giving equal attention to a glass of red and a bike mag, she pointed at Hannibal the Hayabusa and declared, “You have to learn to share.” Yeah, right.
But now we’re a mere six months from where she can legally ride the Suze. It’s only a leap of some 200 horsepower, so what could go wrong?
Worse, she has been openly trying out all the toys in the shed for size and has discovered that none of them hold any major terrors. (Until they’re actually started, that is.) The Valkyrie, which is only about 80 horses up on what she now rides, oh and about four times the physical size, is (thanks to the low seat) the most comfortable fit -- and yes, she can get it off the sidestand. With ease. I knew we shouldn’t have fed her so well…
I have retaliated by pointing out that she would be far better off riding the old R65 I use as daily transport, as it represents a good middle ground: more challenging to master than her 250, with plenty of power to keep up with or ahead of the traffic. Of course she gave me one of those looks that only offspring can produce. It was the “You just don’t get it do you? You blithering idiot” look. How do they learn that?
What I’m most annoyed about is the fact we’re in a state which still clutches on to the dopey idea that learners should be restricted to 250cc bikes. It was a blatantly stupid move when it came in over 20 years ago -- and I said so at the time –- and hasn’t improved with age. She could be on the R65 right now, be much safer in traffic as a result, and building up invaluable experience towards riding a big bike.
The only solace I can derive is Ms A has at least been riding regularly. In fact she said somewhat accusingly a few weeks ago: “My friends’ parents all tell them they are, under no circumstances, to get on a motorcycle. But you tell me off for not riding enough. Are you trying to get rid of me?” Oh well, there goes the Parent of the Year award, again.
Too many learners crack the proverbials with slow little 250s and simply don’t ride until they can buy something big –- a far worse scenario.
The “gimme the keys” bizzo is going to have to be handled with some tact. In my ongoing waking nightmare, I arrive home one day to find air where Hannibal is normally parked. Plus the unmistakable mark of burning rubber, laid down the driveway.
It’s then I’m reminded of the words of the good Dr Frankenstein, when he was forced to chase down a monster of his own creation: “My present situation was one in which all voluntary thought was swallowed up and lost. I was hurried away by fury; revenge alone endowed me with strength and composure; it moulded my feelings, and allowed me to be calculating and calm, at periods when otherwise delirium or death would have been my portion.”`
You’re always welcome to get in touch via the palatial MT offices at locked bag 12, Oakleigh 3166: Or on the wire via guy.allen@traderclassifieds.com.au.
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