Here is a short story that makes me love our hobby even more.
During my last summer visit to the island of Crete where my daughter lives, the same evening after my arrival she rushed into the living room of her flat shouting “Dad! I have a surprise for you in the garage,” said my younger daughter. Normally, those words, based on her history while passing through puberty to her 20’s, end a broken engagement at age 23, would have injected a charge of fear and adrenaline into my veins, but Mary’s sly smile eased my trepidation. My mind raced; it must be another dog, or a stray cat, or perhaps yet another rabbit, her latest trend.
We took the internal elevator and arriving at the garage she opened the door with a flourish befitting a TV game show hostess. There, proudly sitting front and center of the flat dedicated spot was a KAWASAKI NINJA 300 ABS, painted in a monochromatic pastel green. Stunned, I was rendered speechless. Now let me see how the hell do I handle this? I should never teach her how to ride! She would get hurt; badly hurt. I had to protect her; that’s my job! Where did this inspiration come from? Was I to blame for yet another time? What set of example am I for her? How should I react? How the hell can I explain that to my wife and her mom? After what must have been an eternity, the only response from my dumbfounded face was a soft: “Wow!”
I quickly scanned this alien craft. Rubber seemed good with plenty of tread. No signs of scraped body panels or broken pieces. The odometer revealed a reasonably low number 198 kms. “What did you pay for it?” ‘’and most importantly how did you pay for it?’’ was about the most neutral questions I could ask while my mind spun and my stomach continued to churn. The number seemed reasonable, and Mary began her conspicuously well-rehearsed (obviously) monologue touting the advantages of buying this machine, being especially proud that the purchase included a helmet that was painted to match.
My mind excavated into the deep recesses of my memory. Did she remember those pre-family photos of me on the YAMAHA RD350? maybe some later ones with her mom riding as a pillion on the big K? Or was it the childhood rides I gave her on the tank of my HONDA CBR 600RR or later with the XX? I searched for a catalyst for this folly. When Mary and her older brother outgrew diapers, like many of my friends, I gave up my two-wheeled passion for the duties of a family man. There were chauffeuring chores, trips to Garda Land (the equivalent of Disneyland in Italy), the beach, camping and hikes in the woods. Bicycling, a childhood way of life for me, was quickly embraced by the older son, but Mary only wanted to hang out around motorcycles. As so it was to be for the next two decades.
6 or so months after the Ninja unveiling, and upon my son’s departure to UK in a quest of a better future, I finally felt safe to spend another fortune to get me a tricolored BMW S1000RR. After the purchase that I proudly communicate to my comrades domestically and abroad including those at euroKClub, last Monday got another call. “Dad, my bike stopped on the carriage way…. I just slowed down real fast braking hard to avoid a cat and a series of clunk noises vibrated me.” I posed some questions to help determine the malady. Yes, there was plenty of gas. No, a tire was not flat. When I asked her to pull the dipstick and look at the color of the oil, she responded: “Did that its ok” up to the next question. What about the chain? ‘’ Ok checked that too’’ Cringing, my next question was: Rear wheel, rear shock absorber, brakes? Can you at list locate the origin of the noise? This time the response came back ‘’Where is that?” “Did you ever check the brakes?” The long silence answered for her. ‘’Found it dad the rear disc is broken the hole system is caught between the wheel and the protectors” I jumped from my chair, what the f… another disc failure, how is this possible? I instructed her to take the bike at Heraklion where the nearest dealer is. My greatest fear regarding the engine proved wrong the verdict was a broken rear brake disc. Dealer replaced all discs pads, the whole brake system FOC, and bike was returned to her yesterday.
The interlude with that Ninja did give us a surprisingly engaging dad-and-daughter project. I think she actually realized that I was not the dolt she thought I was when she shipped off to Crete. I was still not sure. But, the event did create a project where we did something together, we had a connection, we found a common ground from which we now could easily turn our attention to other issues more important. To solve or prevent issues with her bike we found that we had to work together, act as a team and share that sense of accomplishment. Our conversations now range from motorcycles to politics, and from personal feelings and relationships to life goals and accomplishments. In other words, they are great!
I now rest assured and more as to manage retrieve the lost connection with her. I dream the day she will call with that same loud voice as to inform me about her new accomplishment. I dream another call like: “My boyfriend went to the BMW dealer and guess what he got for me to ride?” I had visions of R 900 T naked, so she would respond with same. “No,” she would reply, “I said I was a sports bike person, so I pointed to a bike and he got it.” Wishing that her future boyfriend has more money than common sense, I would play along and query. Her response will be: “the new R12 RS.” Again, Mary would leave me speechless, and very, very jealous.
I have to admit that due to my job requirements never took being a Dad seriously, but with the motorcycles as a catalyst we’ve also become close friends. That happened with my son too. I guess this should not be surprising, since we hear over and over again that folks who ride, meet strangers; and then a beer or two combined with a couple of days of riding along the same roads together help form lifelong friendships. Or that a rider was left at the side of parking lot in such freeway only to find after a short while passing riders stopping alongside him to offer help; most of the times without even asking the guy’s name, what matters is the bike and their rage to assist and have that bike in the streets again. When this intense moto-bonding occurs with your child and they, in turn, become friends with your friends, it gives you a special parental pride.
I recently raid an article by Kris Odwarka from BMW Motorrad North America. There found some staggering numbers that basically outlined that the number of motorcycles being sold now are a mere fraction of what was sold in the 1970s. He implored us riders all over the world to make it our mission to teach young people about the joys of our sport. I now become to understand the true meaning of his writing. I now see the mutual joy that results in passing along our motorcycle passion from generation to generation.
I also learned a lesson along the way. You can never force your kid to like what you like, but you certainly can introduce them to it. I mistakenly assumed that because Mary was so dedicated to her life style, she would have no interest in motorcycles. I was wrong. In fact, Mary pretty much discovered her love for motorcycles practically without me. The result proved priceless. I have many friends that talk about riding with their sons. I learned that daughters ride just like my son very well.
For now, we’ll keep talking via skype and compering ours experiances practically enjoying our time together. Her future commitments will no doubt alter our time frames, but not the increasingly close bond. Now, when she describes a date to me, the profile includes a note about whether or not he is a rider. A prospect gets extra points if he rides or wants to learn. He will still have to pass my acid tests—I’m still the Dad.
As for my older son, I did assist him providing all I possibly could to teach him how to better ride, CSS was the main teacher for us both. Its up to him now to take it to the next level, maybe there in UK he could join some riding school, know that he is thinking about it. For now simply wait for my first grand son to arrive and imediatelly at his first birthday would present him with a three-wheeled, battery powered, toddler friendly, first motorcycle. I learned my lesson. I was not exactly present with my kids I retrive time by being there for my grand kids. I’m not going to let years of motorcycle-rich memories slip away with this little guy. And I’m really looking forward to the first three-generation ride.