svarog
07-14-2007, 12:23 PM
Saw this at ocmoto.com (which according to beginnerbikers.com is pretty squidish itself) and found it a pretty good read.
Original attribution was to a Ducati board.
Recently I attended an afternoon BBQ with some colleagues, friends and families who were mostly non-riders. The only other motorcyclist there was a young fellow, drinking his seventh beer and picking at the last bits of grilled steak pieces that everyone else pretended not to want. He lived across the street from the host, a friend, and he has a perpetual smile on his face that my wife and her friends called a smirk. The host, on the basis that we had motorcycling in common, introduced him and me. To protect his identity, I’ll call this young fellow Russ (even though I doubt he’ll venture beyond the GSX-R forums and into ours).
After talking about motorcycling for ten minutes, with him doing most of the re-recounting of his on-road tales and close calls, I had a pretty good impression that he and I had only the wind in common and not much else. Whereas I wear a full helmet, protective leathers, boots, and gloves before swinging a leg over my bike, Russ hops on with shorts, a tank top and a pair of rubber flip-flops. Whereas I ride with posted speed limits or with the flow of traffic, he performs wheelies while moving between cars on the El Camino. Whereas I advance across the intersection cautiously when the light turns green, he is the first one out of the gate, and often on his back wheel. Whereas I’m more likely to brag about not crashing, he is proud of every spill, tumble, and road rash he experienced.
Russ is what the Urban Dictionary defines as a Squid, not necessarily by its first meaning of “a squirrelly kid with no riding skill” but by its second meaning which describes the “bloody sinews that extend from the helmet after the head is detached from the torso in a horrific motorcycle accident, resembling a squid.”
The physics of an impact, even at 35 miles an hour, can snap a neck that holds a 16-pound ball that is a head and helmet onto the shoulders. If this impact occurs head-on with another car traveling at 35 miles per hour, the accumulated force can rip the head clean off the shoulders. Some detached heads have been found blocks from the crash sight. I imagined what Russ’s head looks like in his helmet, but I quickly swigged my beer to erase the image.
He spoke with enthusiasm about the stunts he has done while on public roads, and while he made attempts at admitting that his riding behavior is stupid, those attempts were merely efforts to showcase his skills and balls. Under the influence of a few beers and a friendly atmosphere, I expressed that I was impressed, but I also quietly kept one eye keenly on his recklessness, and reserved the extension to any get-together rides or even acquaintance. But the moment he stopped talking about himself he then turned his attention to me and asks, randomly, if I lane-split.
I said that I lane-split when I think it is safe, even though I did this only once past four cars. Then he told me to be sure to abort this action if I notice that the cars in both lanes are staggered. If there are holes in one lane or the other, he said, then you should assume a car will switch over and may hit you in the process. Also, he continued, make sure you see them and that they see you in their side mirrors. He said that something as small as a little mirror might mean the difference between making it home for dinner and having to call your wife from the hospital. Also, while lane splitting, make sure to modulate the clutch well and rev up the engine a lot on the chance that drivers might hear you coming. Any little bit helps.
He grabbed another beer, twisted open the cap and shoved the cap into his pocket, which seemed to hold the caps to the other seven beers. He swigged the beer as though preparing to recount more of his own motorcycle stories. But, instead, he asked if I had a motorcycle license. Yes, I said. Good, he said. Did I take the MSF course? Yes. Good.
Then he advised me to go out on an empty street and practice high-speed braking. Ok, I said. Then he said to find a huge, empty parking lot and practice braking during high-speed turns. Straighten your bike and brake hard, he said, as though it is one, fluid motion in a blink of an eye. He said you never know when that stopped car will appear suddenly around a corner and you have to stop in mid-turn because there is not other option. Practice it over and over. Ok, I said.
Then he asked, You know you get to ride the HOV lane, right? Yep, I said. Then he said to always expect that someone will enter the HOV lane, and especially look out when the other lanes are moving slower. This seems reasonable, I thought. Ride on the left portion of the lane, he said, so if someone enters into the HOV unexpectantly, then you can slip onto the shoulder. I’ll have to remember this. You don’t want to tailgate, he said, but if there is the one time you might want to consider tailgating, it is while you’re in the HOV lane while the other lanes are moving much slower. I gave him an inquisitive look, but he was ahead of me with the explanation. The slower-moving car that wants to jump into the HOV lane is more likely to see the car you’re tailgating and not you, and won’t cross over until the car in front of you has moved ahead of it. But by then you will also have moved ahead and out of danger. I know, I know, he said, it sounds counterintuitive and blatantly dangerous, but trust me on this.
It was several beers into our conversation that I realized this “squid” is giving me real-life lessons that he has learned. Although I stand by my initial impression that this fellow and I have very little in common with the style in which we ride, the one thing we both harbor closely is our wish to survive the road. It isn’t often I’m presented with the opportunity to learn from someone who invites risks, yet possesses an instinct for survival. These are people worth turning an ear to when they talk about how to stay safe.
We talked further and here are some of the things he told me, most of which I’m sure have been written about here and somewhere else. I want to write them down in this post because I want to share them with you and I have a tendency to forget conversations, even meaningful ones.
- When approaching an intersection, always assume some fool will try to make a left turn from the far right lane, or a right turn from a far left lane. Or the idiot in front of you will stop completely to be let in for a turn at the intersection.
- When approaching an intersection, always assume that some idiot waiting to turn left will change his mind and cut back into your lane to keep going.
- When you change lane to pass a slow-moving car, don’t assume the next lane is open ahead. There might be a car stopped to make a turn and you’ll end up through his back window. Switch lanes slowly and carefully.
- When some idiot cuts you off, don’t become emotional. Keep a clear head and refocus on your surrounding. If someone did something stupid to you, the effect might reach to other cars nearby. After the close call, immediately assess your surrounding and avoid focusing on the idiot. He won’t know you or remember you by dinner. Make sure you make it to yours.
- Try to make eye contact with drivers around you, whether you’re moving or stopped at a traffic light. This places you in their subconscious mind and they become more aware that you are “there.”
- If you see someone with a bumper sticker that says “Please Watch for Motorcyclists,” give them the thumbs-up. They will always see it because they are always watching for you.
- If you want to learn how to do wheelies, do it only in second gear while learning. First gear will likely flip you.
- Be vigilance. Always be vigilance. When you daydream, it is time to climb off.
It’s unlikely that I’ll run into Russ again anytime soon, but as much as I don’t condone squid-like behavior and disapprove his macho perversity, I hope that he’ll remain safe on the road in order to share a few more beers in the future.
Thanks for reading,
John
Original attribution was to a Ducati board.
Recently I attended an afternoon BBQ with some colleagues, friends and families who were mostly non-riders. The only other motorcyclist there was a young fellow, drinking his seventh beer and picking at the last bits of grilled steak pieces that everyone else pretended not to want. He lived across the street from the host, a friend, and he has a perpetual smile on his face that my wife and her friends called a smirk. The host, on the basis that we had motorcycling in common, introduced him and me. To protect his identity, I’ll call this young fellow Russ (even though I doubt he’ll venture beyond the GSX-R forums and into ours).
After talking about motorcycling for ten minutes, with him doing most of the re-recounting of his on-road tales and close calls, I had a pretty good impression that he and I had only the wind in common and not much else. Whereas I wear a full helmet, protective leathers, boots, and gloves before swinging a leg over my bike, Russ hops on with shorts, a tank top and a pair of rubber flip-flops. Whereas I ride with posted speed limits or with the flow of traffic, he performs wheelies while moving between cars on the El Camino. Whereas I advance across the intersection cautiously when the light turns green, he is the first one out of the gate, and often on his back wheel. Whereas I’m more likely to brag about not crashing, he is proud of every spill, tumble, and road rash he experienced.
Russ is what the Urban Dictionary defines as a Squid, not necessarily by its first meaning of “a squirrelly kid with no riding skill” but by its second meaning which describes the “bloody sinews that extend from the helmet after the head is detached from the torso in a horrific motorcycle accident, resembling a squid.”
The physics of an impact, even at 35 miles an hour, can snap a neck that holds a 16-pound ball that is a head and helmet onto the shoulders. If this impact occurs head-on with another car traveling at 35 miles per hour, the accumulated force can rip the head clean off the shoulders. Some detached heads have been found blocks from the crash sight. I imagined what Russ’s head looks like in his helmet, but I quickly swigged my beer to erase the image.
He spoke with enthusiasm about the stunts he has done while on public roads, and while he made attempts at admitting that his riding behavior is stupid, those attempts were merely efforts to showcase his skills and balls. Under the influence of a few beers and a friendly atmosphere, I expressed that I was impressed, but I also quietly kept one eye keenly on his recklessness, and reserved the extension to any get-together rides or even acquaintance. But the moment he stopped talking about himself he then turned his attention to me and asks, randomly, if I lane-split.
I said that I lane-split when I think it is safe, even though I did this only once past four cars. Then he told me to be sure to abort this action if I notice that the cars in both lanes are staggered. If there are holes in one lane or the other, he said, then you should assume a car will switch over and may hit you in the process. Also, he continued, make sure you see them and that they see you in their side mirrors. He said that something as small as a little mirror might mean the difference between making it home for dinner and having to call your wife from the hospital. Also, while lane splitting, make sure to modulate the clutch well and rev up the engine a lot on the chance that drivers might hear you coming. Any little bit helps.
He grabbed another beer, twisted open the cap and shoved the cap into his pocket, which seemed to hold the caps to the other seven beers. He swigged the beer as though preparing to recount more of his own motorcycle stories. But, instead, he asked if I had a motorcycle license. Yes, I said. Good, he said. Did I take the MSF course? Yes. Good.
Then he advised me to go out on an empty street and practice high-speed braking. Ok, I said. Then he said to find a huge, empty parking lot and practice braking during high-speed turns. Straighten your bike and brake hard, he said, as though it is one, fluid motion in a blink of an eye. He said you never know when that stopped car will appear suddenly around a corner and you have to stop in mid-turn because there is not other option. Practice it over and over. Ok, I said.
Then he asked, You know you get to ride the HOV lane, right? Yep, I said. Then he said to always expect that someone will enter the HOV lane, and especially look out when the other lanes are moving slower. This seems reasonable, I thought. Ride on the left portion of the lane, he said, so if someone enters into the HOV unexpectantly, then you can slip onto the shoulder. I’ll have to remember this. You don’t want to tailgate, he said, but if there is the one time you might want to consider tailgating, it is while you’re in the HOV lane while the other lanes are moving much slower. I gave him an inquisitive look, but he was ahead of me with the explanation. The slower-moving car that wants to jump into the HOV lane is more likely to see the car you’re tailgating and not you, and won’t cross over until the car in front of you has moved ahead of it. But by then you will also have moved ahead and out of danger. I know, I know, he said, it sounds counterintuitive and blatantly dangerous, but trust me on this.
It was several beers into our conversation that I realized this “squid” is giving me real-life lessons that he has learned. Although I stand by my initial impression that this fellow and I have very little in common with the style in which we ride, the one thing we both harbor closely is our wish to survive the road. It isn’t often I’m presented with the opportunity to learn from someone who invites risks, yet possesses an instinct for survival. These are people worth turning an ear to when they talk about how to stay safe.
We talked further and here are some of the things he told me, most of which I’m sure have been written about here and somewhere else. I want to write them down in this post because I want to share them with you and I have a tendency to forget conversations, even meaningful ones.
- When approaching an intersection, always assume some fool will try to make a left turn from the far right lane, or a right turn from a far left lane. Or the idiot in front of you will stop completely to be let in for a turn at the intersection.
- When approaching an intersection, always assume that some idiot waiting to turn left will change his mind and cut back into your lane to keep going.
- When you change lane to pass a slow-moving car, don’t assume the next lane is open ahead. There might be a car stopped to make a turn and you’ll end up through his back window. Switch lanes slowly and carefully.
- When some idiot cuts you off, don’t become emotional. Keep a clear head and refocus on your surrounding. If someone did something stupid to you, the effect might reach to other cars nearby. After the close call, immediately assess your surrounding and avoid focusing on the idiot. He won’t know you or remember you by dinner. Make sure you make it to yours.
- Try to make eye contact with drivers around you, whether you’re moving or stopped at a traffic light. This places you in their subconscious mind and they become more aware that you are “there.”
- If you see someone with a bumper sticker that says “Please Watch for Motorcyclists,” give them the thumbs-up. They will always see it because they are always watching for you.
- If you want to learn how to do wheelies, do it only in second gear while learning. First gear will likely flip you.
- Be vigilance. Always be vigilance. When you daydream, it is time to climb off.
It’s unlikely that I’ll run into Russ again anytime soon, but as much as I don’t condone squid-like behavior and disapprove his macho perversity, I hope that he’ll remain safe on the road in order to share a few more beers in the future.
Thanks for reading,
John