prettyarbitrary:

Riding a bike is one of those things that’s a very physical experience, so if you haven’t ridden, then there’s a lot you will naturally not be aware of.  I love motorcycle scenes in stories, but over the years I’ve noticed that scenes written by non-riders almost always make the same mistakes.  They’re ubiquitous in fact, to the point that if you haven’t been there to learn the contrary yourself, it’s natural to assume that’s how it actually works.

The first thing to know about motorcycles is that when driving, the motorcycle performs as an extension of you.  It’s almost cybernetic, the way your mass and balance fuse with the machine’s, the way it transmutes your sense of your surroundings and the surface you’re driving on, and the sense of the bike itself and how it’s performing.

Most notably, the driver’s center of gravity becomes the central steering mechanism.  At speeds faster than around 10 mph, the driver steers primarily through shifting their center of balance.  If you want to turn left, you lean your body left.  You’re actually tilting yourself and the motorcycle to take curves and corners.

When carrying a passenger, then, the passenger needs to shift their center of gravity along with the driver’s.  It’s like taking the ‘follower’ position in partner dancing.  You lean WITH them; not less, because then your weight counters theirs and they end up not turning (which can be highly bad if, say, the road does not go that way), and not more, because then the bike could tip right over.

Being a good passenger on a bike is not a huge learning curve for most people, but there is a learning curve.  And some people have more of a knack for it than others.  Some people are natural back-seat drivers, for whatever reason overly pushy, eager, demanding, or determined that they know better than you, and have a habit of making it hard on the driver.  I’ve had people tell me they hate riding pillion even if they’re good at it, because they don’t like how out-of-control it feels.  I detest it myself, in fact; I’d far rather be driving, and it’s a constant struggle for me to just follow along and behave myself.

This means, though, that carrying a passenger who weighs significantly more than you can be a tricky business.  I weigh about 110, and when carrying a rider weighing significantly more than that, it’s awfully easy to crash if the passenger tries to back-seat steer.  (A way to mitigate this, especially for new passengers, is to simply take 15 minutes or so to bump around quiet local roads at low speeds so that the driver and passenger can familiarize themselves a bit with minimal risk to themselves.)

Now, undoubtedly the #1 most-committed mistake I see from almost everybody who writes about motorcycles (and for that matter, a lot of unsuspecting new passengers try it in real life) is the ‘wrapping arms around the driver’s waist’ business.  It’s so common that this line is practically required by law when somebody’s writing a motorcycle scene, but seriously:  DON’T DO THAT.  <–The all caps there is not for shaming; it’s for emphasizing the safety issues.  It’s not only uncomfortable for the driver, it’s potentially dangerous.  It makes it hard to steer, hard to breathe comfortably, and easy to get jerked off balance and into a crash.

In a similar vein, holding onto the driver via grabbing their clothing is ill-advised.  This can lead to getting jerked off balance, having seams dig in painfully, and being choked by fabric.

What to do instead:  The rider sitting pillion should brace their hands on either side of the driver’s waist.  

I know, if you’re in it for the sexual tension, this sounds less sexy, but I’m here to tell you that’s a filthy lie.  A passenger who’s sitting properly is basically molded onto the driver’s back.  Riding with/being a passenger on a bike is a startlingly intimate experience.  There’s a lot of trust and teamwork involved, which takes place at a kinesthetic level.  It feels a lot like dancing, as I said before, or maybe partnered sports, where the collaboration is happening at a physical, bone-deep level that often skips right past the conscious intellect.

Now, sometimes (you may’ve seen this on the road) you’ll have passengers who prefer to hang onto a part of the bike–bits of the frame, maybe, or a ‘sissy bar’/seat back sticking up from the back.  It’s not uncommon, but it’s a bad habit because the passenger is never quite as in-tune with the driver this way, and if something happens–a tire slips in a puddle, for example–their weight moving in the wrong direction can end up jerking the bike out of the driver’s control.

Another thing I see a lot of writers do in stories that doesn’t work in real life:  unfortunately, helmets are NOT easily swappable.  They’re designed to clasp the head; a well-fitted helmet should not move on your head at all, even if you shake your head hard (though it also shouldn’t be tight enough to exert uncomfortable pressure).  A helmet that fits loosely is useless at best and dangerous at worst.  One that’s too tight is either painful or doesn’t go on at all.  It doesn’t take much difference in the size of two people’s heads for one person’s helmet to not fit the other person properly.  (And even if they’re the same size, that doesn’t necessarily mean it’ll be comfortable for more than short-term wear, but hey.)

Also, the stupid things are ridiculously expensive–especially the full-face models–so most bikers aren’t lucky enough to have a bunch of extras just laying around.

Another tip, both for writing and riding: riding pillion on a sports bike (those sleek ones where the driver’s crouched and leaning forward like a race jockey) is a miserable freaking experience.  On a lot of models, you’re perched up there on something that barely counts as a seat and leaves you constantly feeling like you’re about to slide off the back; your legs are pushed up into a crouch; you’re hunched like a monkey over the driver; and possibly you’ve got a scalding-hot muffler pressed up against your calf.  

(Pro tip: if anybody ever invites you for a ride on their bike and you’re wearing shorts, pay attention to where the muffler’s located in relation to the foot pegs.)

Now, what is it about motorcycles that makes some of us bikers go into a lathered-up frenzy at the idea of riding?  It’s because it FEELS SO DAMN ALIVE.

Look.  It’s like…life these days is, well, canned.  We spend a lot of our time in pods–houses, cars, subway trains–breathing tinned air, walking around on pavement or carpet…  But when I’m on a bike, it’s me and a 360 degree panorama of the world, and there’s nothing between me and it.  Some people get off on the risk of that, but for me it’s a matter of immersion.  When I ride, I can feel the cool humid air rolling down from under a forested hillside.  I can smell the road dust, the oil, the exhaust, the herby scent of weeds and wildflowers on the roadside, the river I’m driving near, the shady scent of a forest, the roadside fruit stand…and I’m not talking in that wafty, broken-up way you get if you roll the car doors down.  It’s like driving into a wall of scent, crashing through one bubble after another of temperature changes and smells and sounds and sights, and I have this bike underneath me that’s rumbling and vibrating and moving like it’s part of me, and it’s just the most powerful sense I’ve ever had of being in charge of my own life and not hiding from the world.  I can see it, and it can see me, and yeah, that’s a bit dangerous, but it’s also real.

Also riding isn’t always this wild experience. I Loved it when I was driving and it always felt visceral when my hands were on the handlebars. But riding passenger as a kid? Totally became just another part of the morning routine. I can tell you time and again I have no idea how I survived middleschool because I straight up fell asleep on the back of a motorcycle every morning on the way to school. I wasn’t bored per say. But it was familiar, felt safe, and had a gentle rumble. At 5 in the morning, what was a kid to do?

(via headspace-hotel)

the-fantabulous-toast:

youremysunshine8:

adventures-in-poor-planning:

adventures-in-poor-planning:

adventures-in-poor-planning:

prayer to whichever dead catholic person is most appropriate: may I not have to run a whole week of surprise camps on crutches. in a knee brace.

Im agnostic raised liberal protestant, but absolutely the catholics got saints right. Sometimes your problem is so fucking specific you need Some Guy. If you’re listening, Guy of Workers Who Have Strain Injuries,

No fucking WAY, there’s actually a knee injury Guy? Catholicism accidentally reinventing the medical specialty system……

I know you’re wondering: are there slutty pictures of him revealing his knees?

Saint Roch, by Francesco Ribalta, c. 1625, Museo de Bellas Artes, Valencia

[image id: st. Roch staring soulfully and hiking up his robe to show that his thigh has a bubo on it, also sluttily revealing his knees]

what the dog doin

(via mens-rights-activia)

flusschen:

meanwhile in 1997 these cutting edge internet themed crayons were born

(via swingsetindecember)

hamvendor:

hamvendor:

croc-odette:

hamvendor:

hamvendor:

She has 10 eggs omg how did her little body make so many eggs I’m going to cry

Her bird husband keeps bringing her little green worms to eat and every time she hears him outside she does these happy little chirps ahhhhh

she’s sleeping right now…

UPDATE: all ten eggs have hatched :)

UPDATE:

All ten babies are getting ready to fledge!!!

(via mens-rights-activia)

genderqueerpositivity:

Absolutely fuckin wild that SCOTUS delivered a blow to LGBTQ inclusive nondiscrimination laws nationwide based on that case…because one web designer went to court to have the “right” to refuse to design wedding websites for same gender couples hypothetically.

Hypothetically, because no one even tried to hire her to do that. But this is the outcome.

I hope Lorie Smith never has a day of peace ever again.

…And they just stuck down the Biden administrations student loan forgiveness program.

Fuck SCOTUS.

(via sauntervaguelydown)

bonecouch:

ilovecats4ever:

When you win the pie eating contest :)

guy eating contest

(via seven-oh-four)

love-too:

dip-the-stick:

charlesoberonn:

love-too:

Absolutely.

Always thinking about them

(via seeunexttuesday)

katy-l-wood:

suriel:

anexperimentallife:

this reply in the comments tho

This did not go where I expected from the first tweet and now I am laughing so hard I am crying.

(via seven-oh-four)

arcticarthropod:

loki-laufysbum:

balloonpony:

tyleroakley:

peterfromtexas:

Next time you go walking around barefoot in the water…

NOPE

No worries, that’s a Bobbit Worm. They live on the ocean floor, and unless you’re able to withstand a ton of pressure, you likely wouldn’t have your toesies nipped off by one since they live deeper than people walk on the ocean floor.

Bobbit Worms are kinda cool. And they were named after Laurena Bobbit, who cut off her abusive husband’s penis and threw it out of her car window as she drove off.

Wait.

Based

marxisforbros:

Conversation with a Native Son: Maya Angelou and James Baldwin

(via drukhari)