Spilled a whole glass of Coca-Cola with ice on my brilliant Spidi gloves from Italy (:*) while dining. The gloves have the “do not wash in any way” sign. Luckily no coke got inside of the gloves. However, they’re now sticking to the handlebar. Gross. Damn it.
On the other hand, now I have a bullet-proof argument as to why exactly I think my leather gloves are so sweet! Take that!
“Java-ով գրողը C#-ով էլ կգրի”
—ՀԿՀ Ավագ Տեսուչ Ս. Խ. Բաբայան
As we whip around the blind corners of the winding road at the bottom of the gorge I give myself in to the ride with complete abandon. With all the senses tuned in, the amazing bliss of thorough unrestraint washes over me and I disengage from the daily grind left far behind within the confines of my office. And in this feeling I catch myself thinking that the only thing separating me from the pavement is the thin layer of leather of my jacket. Acknowledgement of this vulnerability comes with a discovery of how similar riding a bike can feel to sex: the more open and uninhibited you are, the more vulnerable, but also the more able to experience the whole thing fully, to the last drop, and with nothing left on the table.
Somehow with all the cliche comparisons I can make between motorcycling and lovemaking, this one is the most honest and the most true for me: submitting to it is scary, but what you get in return makes it all worthwhile in the end.
And so we ride.
I took the motorcycle out of the winter storage today. I am delighted to have the first actual riding post a full crosspost from Nariné:
In the pitch black of the night we are flying together occasionally passing half drunk young men driving their SUV’s home unsteadily, from whatever questionable deeds filled their Saturday night. They look like they want to race, but there is no catching us. We are flying.
The sound of the engine fills the sleepy streets of the city. I wonder what goes on behind the very few brightly lit windows that watch over the slumbering city like sentinels. I want a glimpse into the secrets that are hiding behind the curtains. But we are flying so fast that the windows are way behind us now.
The rain is lashing us sideways, as if punishing us for missing our bedtime yet again. The city feels so close and so familiar, the way it can only feel late at night. And while we are flying It belongs to us. I wonder if freedom tastes like dust in your mouth.
I feel like I’m meditating, concentrating on all and nothing: on the road that I can barely make out, on the twinkling lights far away in the distance, on the wind in my ears, on how comforting it is to hold on to you tight as the beast is revving and charging into battle under me. I am reaching a Zen, Buddhist monks spend decades trying to achieve. The only feeling I have is this sensation of flight and immeasurable freedom.
I now proclaim the 2010 motorcycle season open.
Happy New Year to all of my dear readers!
Season 2009 was truly an amazing motorcycling experience. Yerevan started really getting on two wheels. A lot of riding events took place. New dealerships, motorcycling clubs and pubs opened!
As 2009 goes into history, it leaves only wonderful positive motorcycling memories. This was my most intense riding season, I put about 9000 kilometers on my odometer and I’m planning to do nothing less in 2010! During the rides there were of course wonderful friends and ridemates to share the joy and the most wonderful places and roads to discover and explore! And of course I blogged a lot!
On this I want to wish us all a very happy, a very exciting and a very passionate 2010. Let’s ride through it on two wheels and be safe, healthy and excited in doing so! Vroom!
Some of my memories from 2009 are in these pictures, and they are clickable too! Muah!
My shiny CBF500 right from the dealership!
The Abovyan Petrol Station is where most north-directed rides kick off
First Ride Ever, Tsakhkadzor - Bjni Section
Just arrived at Odzun
Reckless Riding in Stepanakert
Ed & Su Wedding Takeoff
Ed & Su Wedding Run
An abandoned petrol station break at Metsamor
Preparing to take off for Ijevan
Sardarapat
Armenia-Turkey Border, a Watchpost
A Turkish Mosque on the other side of Arpacay Reservoir
Parachute Jump at the Arzni Military Airport
Our Parachute jump Helicopter in the Arzni Military Airport
Somewhere between Goris and the Karabakh border
White Shirt Riders!
Norayr & Vahe discussing CBF500 in Urtsadzor
Gyumri Downtown
Gyumri Main Square
Arzni Racing
Two more motorcycles arrive at the racing event in Arzni
Lamb barbeque in Haghartsin
Vardaghbyur-Stepanavan Offroad Section
Fellows posing on a truck in Berd
Top of Selim, the highest motoring road in Armenia
Sevan - Shorzha, Vishapi Coast
Maneh & Zhirayr in Sevan
Esther and Guido on Northern Avenue
My new helmet, the stylish AGV Dragon
Vardaghpyur - Stepanavan Middle Section
They Painted It Red!
The pictures are also available on my Picasa account for your viewing pleasure!
Other parts of the series can be found here.
So you take your motorcycle on a ride every day, and on the weekends you trip the countryside. You quickly accelerate on the intersections and smile at the girls who look at you from the cars. You enjoy the sun glaring on your chrome while you’re chilling at a cafe and you bet with every 5-series BMW in the town that you will beat them to the next intersection. You do it for a year. Two years. Three years. But with every kilometer rolling on the odometer, the motorcycle whispers to those who listen: motorcycling is not about speed or looks… well, not primarily.
Being a fresh rider, I used to hate rides with no destinations. I remember the old riders looking at me with indulgence when I rushed to get there, and how I thought they were old cripples to not push their motorcycles to the limits. But when you hold on to the grips for too long, the motorcycle does whisper to you.
It is not about where you go. Not at all about where you go. It is not about how fast you get there.
It is about the road you take to get there. It is about how you ride that road. Not about how fast. Just about how. And then this realization strikes you and you stop for a moment. You breathe, you look around. You realize you don’t want more destinations. You want more roads. And what you once hated very sincerely becomes the most beautiful vehicle to your eyes that could ever be designed.
I used to hate offroad motorcycles. I knew, I was certain that an offroad motorcycle was going to be the last one I ever own. Turned out so, but absolutely not in the negative way I meant it to be!
So after my current CBF500 I know exactly what am I going to own next. I cannot wait. And who could? I am finally going to ride a vehicle that is really essentially designed to be a ground vehicle, from its core. I am going to experience freedom of movement unimaginable with any other vehicle. It is going to be fast. Not too fast. It is going to be sexy. Not too sexy to the ones non-transcended. It is going to be a Honda.
Remember, kids. If you think Enduros are not cool, you are wrong. If you think motorcycling is about speed, it might be — but only for the select few like Valentino Rossi and on very specially designed tracks and events. If you think motorcycling is about style, and you’re ready to spend that much on style, way to go — give me a call to have some beer together! And especially, if you are just starting to get into riding and you’re wondering about what you want to stick to, give the offroad a second thought after you initially disregard it. Keep in mind, it is very probably that offroad is where you will get anyway, with time. Just in case, watch the Long Way Round starring Obi Wan Ewan McGregor and Charley Boorman.
The Enduros opened my eyes in a way no other motorcycle ever could. They opened whole millions of roads to ride in my small beloved country. They turned Armenia into a paradise for motorcycling.
Motorcycling stopped being about the speed, so I stopped noticing the next-year ultra-cool Sportbike JAP-09900XXX year 2050 riding along Baghramyan. It stopped being about the style, so I stopped noticing the 10o-years-old style shiny and loud Darley Havidson sinking in its own chrome.
It started being about the adventure.
Other parts of the series can be found here.
Other parts of the series can be found here.
I really loved the Honda Shadow. I kinda hated the one in Honda’s European model lineup, but the American model was my dream bike. I was riding my Rebel and dreaming a Shadow, so much that at times I got real close at purchasing one!
Honda Shadow VLX on the road to Yeraskh
At times I considered purchasing other cruisers…
Suzuki Marauder
But in the end it was really Honda’s Shadow that had my heart.
So I rode my little cruiser getting annoyed with its low CCs, thinking of switching it with a big cruiser instead. I remember a friend telling me that my age is not yet that of a cruiser and that I should enjoy other types of motorcycles before I’m 40, but I didn’t pay attention to that until my business trip to Germany. In Bielefeld I had an opportunity to rent a motorcycle (thanks to my colleague Mr. Klein), and when they said they didn’t have a Shadow, I immediately recalled my friend’s sayings, thinking that I should give the naked bikes a shot. The guy on the phone said I could rent a Suzuki Bandit 600, and I went with it.
My Suzuki Bandit parked in Bielefeld
I remember the first feelings of the high-rev sporty engine in my hands and that was the moment I figured out that the naked streetbikes were way sexier than the cruisers. They were created for urban riding and urban riding was what I was mostly doing. Agile in the traffic among the cars, fast to accelerate and to brake, and finally — sexy almost like the sportbikes! I rode my Bandit a lot. I rode it on the german Autobahns and for commuting locally as well as cross-town tripping and just riding around. The class had proven to be very comfortable for tarmac and I loved the little slice of performance that it offered.
Naked was sexy because the engine was out for anyone to see and it made the motorcycle look very straightforward, rational and somewhat aggressively beautiful. The plastic fenders, covers and fairings of the sportbikes made them look like plastic toys in my eyes and so inside my brain the streetfighters actually beat the sportbikes in terms of the style. And man was that retro headlight hot!
Aside from the style, streetbikes seemed cool because they were created for being ridden in the city. Adding this to the naked engine style, their intent was put out so daringly that an engineer type of a person like myself was in love at once!
I rode the motorcycle for two weeks in North-Rhine Westfalia and flew back to Yerevan determined that my next bike is going to be something like the Bandit, except it had to carry Honda’s logo on the fuel tank. After coming to terms with my finances for a while, I paid a visit to the local Honda dealership and saw this:
Honda CBF500
Other parts of the series can be found here.
