A few months back my wife Margo and I were enjoying an absolutely gorgeous day in Missoula, Montana, not far from our mountain retreat. At the age of eight, I began spending ever-growing portions of my summers working in Montana on the CK Bar cattle ranch owned and run by my aunt and uncle. I knew my first day in that wide-open freedom of Montana that this is where I wanted to spend as much of the rest of my life as possible. One of the main reasons is the personal freedom that this vast, lightly populated state affords its citizens, freedoms that often closely approximate the Old West that people in other states think died 100 years ago.
What's this all got to do with riding motorcycles, you might be wondering? A significant amount, as it turns out.
You see, with those personal freedoms comes the responsibility to use them wisely or risk losing them. That glorious early summer day in Missoula was somewhat spoiled by the fact that every few minutes we were seeing motorcycle riders of all types of bikes, enjoying the mild weather and working on their tans at the same time, with a shockingly high percentage of somewhere in the 90 percent range wearing virtually no protective gear whatsoever. I'm an optimist, yet I've seen and experienced the aftermath of far too many motorcycle accidents not to reflexively wince every time I see poor riding technique or someone riding without proper gear. My dark imagination takes over and my optimism escapes me.
"Apparently," Margo quipped, "not only is it legal to ride in Montana without a helmet, I'm beginning to think that it's illegal to ride with one."
Margo has managed (and for the past 10 years co-owned) a motorcycle accessories shop in Southern California; clothing every type of rider from dirt to roadrace/track day riders, to actual Hell's Angels and more mild cruiser riders. In her 30-plus years of riding and racing everything from BSA Gold Stars, Weslake speedway bikes, Champion-framed YZ250s and Harley-Davidson XR750 dirt-track bikes to various Ducatis, Aprilias, and even Bimota DB-1SR, she's learned a few things about protective riding gear in the process of wearing or selling it. Point being, she never rides without it.
There's a close parallel here to another passion of mine that I enjoy in Montana: shooting and hunting at our own private range and in competition. Some of my earliest memories involve firearms, and I was taught at the age of three by my father and grandfather the absolute and constant respect that is required in the safe handling of guns. Firearms were viewed as powerful instruments in my family; tools that when used carefully and skillfully provided much of our annual meat intake with lean and purely organic meat that I still prefer over all others. It is the responsibility of gun owners to ensure that they are used safely and responsibly; when misused, it becomes ridiculously easy to demonize firearms as a whole (many sportbike riders can no doubt empathize with this situation since we're often lumped together with the irresponsible stunters who ride stand-up wheelies through freeway traffic for notoriety and attention).
The reason that I've brought this up is that also applies directly to our sport and our ability to own and operate high performance motorcycles. Unlike the Second Amendment there is no guaranteed right to own a 160-plus horsepower sportbike. Which is why it is all the more important that we, as sportbike owners, use our transportation and recreational tools wisely and responsibly especially when in plain view of the public eye.
This includes dressing, behaving and looking the part of a responsible rider; not to mention the importance of protecting our skins, skeletal systems and precious organs. Remember that however you feel about firearms, many in the general public view our sleek, razor-sharp-styled sportbikes with at least as much askance, if not more. It could be argued that the constitutionally guaranteed right of firearm ownership is far easier to justify to the Joe or Jo Ann Q. Public than a 9-second quarter-mile, 186 mph street legal superbike. "What possible legal reason is there to own such a thing?" is a question the public surely asks.
My strong belief in personal freedom leaves me conflicted over mandatory helmet laws. While I don't wish to further limit people's personal choices, it pains me greatly to see so many people ride with obvious disregard for their personal safety. I can't fathom how anyone can look at the reality of riding and the ever-present risk falling off a motorcycle and then decide that not wearing a helmet is in any way a rational decision. Choosing to ride without a helmet is either complete denial of the risks involved or sheer madness.
With our right to freedom comes a heavy burden of responsibility and accountability. I don't want others or my government to tell me what I can and cannot do--provided of course that I'm not harming or endangering anyone. But when I hear that my own brother--the more responsible of the two siblings that's settled down, has kids to care for and works hard at his thriving multi-brand motorcycle dealership to support his wife and family--often rides to work on his Road Star without a helmet, it makes me quake with anger and frustration. What can he possibly be thinking?
The spark for this column was the combination of disappointment and outrage when I saw one of my fellow Montana track day riders ride past on her bright red Ducati 748 wearing not so much as a stitch of protective clothing. "Come on Lindsey," I shouted aloud, "I know that you've got to be smarter than that!"
Lindsey Redfern comes quite close to the idealized sportbike-riding dream girl. She's a youthful, attractive willowy blonde with the curves to match her Ducati and often, as she did on this day, shows off her taught, tattooed midriff. And until I saw her riding that fateful Saturday prior to our local suspension set-up seminar, I thought she possessed good judgment as well. The weekend before, I'd seen her on the track in full riding gear skillfully carving her way through the interesting combination of radius, camber and elevation changes of our local track. When I spotted Lindsey on the day of our Suspension Set-Up Seminar, I planned to ask her what she was thinking riding through town dressed as she was when I saw her the day before. As always, though, people flocked around her and (uncharacteristically for me) not wanting to publicly embarrass her, the opportunity was lost when she departed early to return to work.
The following weekend I heard news that a motorcycle accident victim suffered severe injuries. The description of the accident victim fit Lindsey perfectly: young, tall, thin and attractive blonde with a tattooed midriff--wearing no protective gear. The woman's injuries were severe enough that the likelihood of her survival teetered on either side of even odds.
I didn't find out for several agonizing hours that it wasn't her. You might imagine the thoughts of "what if I'd have talked to Lindsey last weekend? Could I have made a difference?" Despite the relief of learning that it wasn't Lindsey, it was short-lived since the unknown ER trauma patient was likely someone who (hopefully) has a circle of family and friends that care as much for her as we do for Ms. Redfern. Trust my experience on this subject that you never want to face a similar situation questioning whether speaking up personally could have prevented such injuries or worse.
I've made the decision not to spare anyone's, including my own brother's, feelings of embarrassment but instead to use this tragedy to illustrate the point that many of us still don't grasp and that is that there is no such thing as a guaranteed "safe street ride." I'm sure that Lindsey's justification was likely, "Oh I'm just going for a short ride home. No need to be hot/uncomfortable/mess up my hair with a helmet, jacket, boots, and gloves. Nothing's going to happen. I'll be fine."
Unfortunately, the real world doesn't work that way. And this is where a lesson that most firearm owners have apparently learned better than motorcycle riders comes into play. The #1 rule of gun safety is to ALWAYS treat every gun as though it's loaded. No matter how many times you've double and triple-checked the chamber and magazine or cylinder, you never point the gun at anything that you're not willing to shoot. No horseplay or joking around. Not ever. No exceptions.
That's the mentality that we all need to have EVERY time we ride, no matter how short a ride or how slow we go.
Remember every time you ride your motorcycle: The gun is ALWAYS loaded!