Motorcycles, Life & WFO - Motorcycle-Journal Forums

CaptCrashIdaho · 11-13-2008, 01:03 AM

Motorcycles, Life & WFO by CaptCrash

***The following contains graphic descriptions of foolhardy motorcycle behaviors. If you find that sort thing unsettling—avert your eyes. If you like that kind of thing? Enjoy!***

Ever ride WFO? You know—Wide Freakin’ Open—with the throttle turned to the stop? Use up all the reserves, have nothing left, all in? If you ride a bike that’s making 130 bhp you may have only hit the stop once or twice, there’s just not enough asphalt to be constantly pinning a 600+cc sportbike. The world goes by mighty quick at 130 or more rear wheel horsepower—I know ‘cause my last bike was a GSXR1100 and going WFO could be unsettling, trees start flying by, bug get atomized on your faceshield and corners leap up at you like fat kids fighting for free candy bars…

Nowadays I’m riding a 40 bhp supermoto so I hit the stop a lot more. In fact just the other day I was riding with a bunch of sportbikes and, yup, I was constantly WFO. Which can be damaging to your ego when you realize ‘that’s all she wrote’ and there’s no reserve, no more twist, the ponies are all running and you’re just not gaining ground. Getting left behind in the straights means you have to catch up in the corners. You end up working to carry speed because conserving momentum is paramount and you pick up your entry speed so you can pack that speed through the corner with you.

Here’s a quick generational question: ever ‘ride the pipe’? ‘Riding the Pipe’ isn’t about surfing or skateboarding-- It’s a 2stroke thing—it’s about getting the RPMs up high enough that you’re making real horse power. You’ll often read about current 4 stroke 600cc in line fours and how ‘to access the power’ you have to rev’ ‘em pretty hard. 2 strokes are even more tame when they’re off the powerband. Imagine a bike where, when you turn the throttle you actually ask, out loud, “is this thing turned on?” The bike then sputters and maybe you slip it some clutch and bring up the RPMs and suddenly, magically, with the flip of a switch, all hell breaks loose; you’re pulling yourself off the passenger seat back into the saddle, your arms are stretched, the front wheel is in the air and your eyes are completely open.

If you know that feeling you’ve been on a 2 stroke and you’ve been on the pipe.

Getting every bit of performance you can get out of a bike is pretty thrilling no matter what the engine design. Back in ‘the day’ I bought a brand spanking new ’83 GS550E. Blue and white, 16in front wheel, 64 bhp, and it would rev (GASP) to an insanely high 10,000 rpm. Most of those ponies were found above 7,000 rpms. If you wanted it to go you had to wring it good. Fortunately I had an 81 RM400 that had taught me to ride the pipe so I was willing to twist it hard looking for power. One day, an off day, not a Sunday but a weekday, I as up on the thumb of the San Francisco Bay running Highway 35 from San Mateo to Saratoga. Beautiful run. You’re up on the spine of the peninsula looking down over the bay and occasionally you get glimpses of the ocean. Pretty ride, good road, CalTrans takes good care of the surface—it’s just a good road.

Off days on any road are fun, it’s not the weekend and the roads can be very clear with little traffic. The GS550 was piped and jetted, sporting an R compound tire on the front, and I had a day off so up the road I went. I started at the north end headed south and after a couple of miles I realized a bike had started appearing in my mirrors. I actually slowed to let the rider catch me so I could get a look at it. Arriving at the first straight of any consequence this 1983 CB1100F just hot foots it by me.

I was not and am not the kind of guy who goes out looking for a race. However I am like a dog—if you run? I’ll chase. I dropped a couple of gears and whacked it open and took off after this big Honda. We’d come up to a section of turns and I’d start catching up and then I’d be right on his rear and the road would open up and he’d turn it on and I’d whack it wide open and…well, he was making close to twice the horsepower I had and there wasn’t much I could do but watch him motor away and then reel him in at the next corner.

I could brake harder than he could and carry better speed through the turns yet he always walked away when the road straightened out. I passed him a couple of times but he always motored by me in the open stuff.

The south end of 35, where it intersects with Highway 9 is pretty tight and I figured if I hustled it I could potentially get a pass in right before the rest stop at the intersection, pull off and declare victory—but I couldn’t get it done. I climbed up his pipe, showed him the wheel but he just held me off. I couldn’t get by.

We both pulled off and stopped.

TIME OUT, memory flash: there was a guy who had a yellow hot dog wagon who sold EXCELLENT polishes in the turnout--loved those things. Polish with sauerkraut and mustard…ohhhhhhhh forbidden cholesterol goodness...

Returning to the story, his bike was all safety wired and ready to go racing and he got off and asked me “How do you like that 1100?” I told him “it’s a 550”. He looked a little shocked and replied, “That explains the straight-aways…” Stories were exchanged, best wishes passed back and forth and we went our separate ways, he back north on 35 and me south on 9.

I’m actually having a stream of consciousness thing going on here because I am having all these memories flood back. Most of the motorcycle ones tend to have WFO moments in them. Like how after my run with sportbikes the other day I caught an R1 and FZ1 on the Lowman Road and got past the FZ going WFO but only showed the R1 the front wheel once. We stopped for gas in the little mountain town of Garden Valley and there was a lot of peeking over the pumps and “what is that?” going on.

It’s fun to run an undersized bike with the big boys. It’s exciting to go Wide Freaking Open and know you’re getting everything you can out of your ride. A motorcycle nearing the edge of its performance envelope becomes a living thing. They squirm and flex and wobble and breathe. You ride on the balls of your feet. You stop clutching your upshifts—just roll off, lift your foot, snap the throttle back open. This is a place beyond joyful play, it can be a terribly serious place. What was play becomes something more. Brain cells are calculating, you try to suck as much detail as you can down the optic nerves, your ears are alert and listening for feedback. The bike talks to you. It tells you “this is what this animal was bred to do”. Respiration increases, your pulse increases, adrenaline flows, you become excited and flushed and your eyes dilate…

We stop thinking about the dangers that surround us. The PASSION of riding WFO dulls our vision. Passion is a great word. In America we’ve turned it to mean SEX, which can be a legitimate use, but in reality the word means more than that! Sex can be passionate. But passion can be more than kissing someone so hard you bruise your lip. One dictionary definition is: “boundless enthusiasm”. Another is: “any powerful or compelling emotion or feeling, as love or hate”. Compelling? To compel means “to force, drive or constrain” in other words if you compel someone you make them do something. I often feel compelled when I ride. Passion for riding can compel you to ride in a foolish manner.

Here’s a definition of passion that I think can apply to being WFO, from the Miriam-Webster’s Dictionary of Law: “intense, driving, or overpowering feeling or emotion; especially any violent or intense emotion that prevents reflection.”

Motorcyclists caught in that passionate moment of being WFO often overestimate their skills, and forget the danger they can be to themselves or others. How can passion make us dangerous to others? By preventing us from reflecting on what we’re doing! Ever had that moment of reflection after you dodged a bullet? How ‘bout that time you were right between the solid yellow lines with a VW Vanagon on your right, and a Ford Capri on your left—going the opposite way? Passion can cloud the mind; in that moment I was convinced that the space between the lines was a tiny little lane just for motorcycles! Looking back at it now I just shake my head and wonder how nobody got hurt. It was an incredibly passionate and stupid moment and I dodged a bullet.

It’s OK to have a passion for motorcycles and riding. It’s OK to have passionate moments where you lose yourself in the thrill of riding. BUT REMEMBER going WFO is fun, but it’s a passionate moment and passion turned ON often means reason turned OFF, so be careful and don’t let your passion blind you to what’s going on around you--don’t let that thrilling moment cloud your vision or prevent reflection.

Be safe!