Now I Want Another Bike

Cafe Cruiser Espresso Vanilla Stout - Black Flag Brewing, Columbia, MD 

Growing up, I always loved riding my bicycle. I rode it to friend’s houses, to school, to work, around the neighborhood, and all over the Capital Crescent trail. I still have the bike that I got as a birthday present in 7th grade. It’s a dark green Trek 3700 that looks like it’s been though quite a bit. I’ve taken it all over Maryland and all over North Carolina as well. When I graduated from college, I kinda stopped riding it but that’s only because I leveled up. That’s right, I got a motorcycle. When I was a senior, I looked into what it would take to get my motorcycle license. Not at all a hard process: take a class, take the test, get your license. It was harder to convince my father to join me in taking the class at the Harley-Davidson in Laurel than it was to take the actual class. I have some crazy stories about those three magnificent, terrifying, challenging days.

The first day was entirely classroom work. We talked about the rules of the road and how to be the best motorcyclist out there, i.e. not the ones who speed past you at mach 4 on the highway - those guys are next level a**holes. Our instructor was a former Navy enlisted man who had been teaching people how to ride for quite some time. Unfortunately I’m forgetting his name, so I’ll refer to him as Craig. I remember Craig saying that riding a motorcycle is about three things: safety, safety, and safety. He said that Harley-Davidson was trying to change their image from that of the classic tatted-up “motorcycle bad-ass” look to that of “motorcycle safety bad-asses”. Riding a motorcycle is no-joke. It is one of the most dangerous activities out there because of the sheer lack of protection. The only way to protect yourself (outside of not being a dick on the road) is to wear ALL YOUR GEAR ALL THE TIME. Helmet, jacket, boots, pants, gloves...all of which should be brightly colored or clearly seen. There’s an acronym for it: AGATT, or All Gear All The Time. He drilled this into our heads so much that I think about it even when I’m not riding. Now it’s like a song that I just can’t get out of my head. That song is going to save my life one day.   

We didn’t actually get onto the Harley Street 500 training bikes until the second day of the course. You can see that it has orange safety rails and pegs to prevent the bike from crushing you if you were to fall over. I want to preface this next part by saying that only five of the nine people signed up completed the course. The four that dropped out all had different reasons. One realized she wasn’t ready for it, one failed the riding portion of the test, one tore his quad, and one almost killed himself driving into a concrete wall. Craig started the course by saying that there was nothing we could do that he hadn’t seen before. Boy did we prove him wrong. The first two mentioned were pretty unexciting, almost expected attrition, but the second two helped us all learn important lessons. The man who tore his quad put his foot down while he was moving too fast, so his leg shot back, his boot ripped open, and he tore the muscles in his leg. He had to drop out because of his injury, and he certainly couldn’t walk normally after that. The man who drove into a wall, who I’ll refer to as Sean, is a bit more of a complicated story.

If you’ve ever driven a stick shift, you understand the concept of finding the friction point. If not, it’s the point at which the clutch disc and flywheel meet and the car starts to move. As you press on the gas, you slowly release the clutch to find this point. When on a motorcycle, the accelerator/throttle is on the right handle, and the clutch is on the left...throttle on, clutch out, find the friction point, and off you go. If something goes wrong, then you go all-in and down, i.e. you pull both handles on each hand, and press both foot pedals down (front break, rear brake, clutch, and shifter). This will safely stop the bike and prevent you from flying off. This message didn’t fully sink in with Sean. We were practicing finding the friction point on our bikes slowly moving up and down our designated lanes when all of a sudden I heard Sean’s engine start to roar. He had redlined it, let go of the clutch, and started speeding towards the concrete wall at the end of the lane. I kept thinking “he’s gonna stop he’s gonna stop he’s gon - HE’S NOT STOPPING OH SH- '' and CRASH. His bike hit the wall, he flew face-first into the wall, and then fell to the ground. Time stopped for a moment. I thought Sean had died. I’d never seen a person die before. I didn’t know what to do. It felt like a lifetime had passed when in reality it was probably just a few seconds before he started coughing. “Oh thank God he’s alive”. What a myriad of emotions in just a matter of seconds. Panic, fear, confusion, and shock to say the least. Sean ended up being okay because he was wearing his helmet. He had a couple of scratches, and sustained a concussion but nothing life changing. It certainly could have been had he not been wearing his helmet. This live demonstration as to why you wear a helmet is something I could have done without, but I vicariously learned through Sean.

I was shaking for hours after that happened and it made me realize how dangerous this activity is, especially if you aren’t paying attention. My dad helped calm me down and gave me the confidence to get back up on that horse to continue the training. What a day that was. The next day we took the test and both passed with flying colors. A few weeks after the course, we came to possess a couple of Honda Rebels. Convincing him to get the bikes was surprisingly easier than convincing him to take the course, and we were both dumbfounded when mom approved this purchase. I found the bikes online at a dealership in Virginia and jokingly (well, fishing-ly so) asked him if he wanted to go get them. “Come on, it’ll be like Red VS Blue!” They were the same bike, but one was red and the other was blue. With it being our favorite online animated web-series, I guess that was enough to convince him. This collective decision to pull the trigger on this is what lead to the longest, coldest, and most exhilarating three hours of my life. My father and I had never ridden outside of a parking lot, let alone gone more than 20 mph and out of nowhere we decided to drive to Virginia, buy a couple of motorcycles, and take the backroads home to Maryland. I need to mention that this was in November, so daylight became one of our most precious resources in terms of staying warm. I remember having to reach down and grab the engine block whenever we were at a stoplight so that I could warm up a bit after the sun had gone to hide behind the hills. We were fully armored up with extra jackets and gloves, but it still wasn’t enough to keep us warm. We were shivering the whole way home.

I look back on it now and all I have two main thoughts: “I’m glad we took that leap” and “wow that was horribly dumb”. We were chilled to the bone by the end of the ride and had to spend a good couple of hours trying to warm back up. I maintain that this event 100% worth the chills, and I wouldn’t change what happened for anything in the world. Thanks for buying me my first bike, dad, and thanks for providing me with some of the best story material I have! I could continue with more motorcycle related shenanigans, but let’s get to the beer! That is, after all, what this blog is about. 

First sip: I have the biggest ear-to-ear grin goin on right now. I honestly can’t find my words. That vanilla comes in ever so softly after the espresso flavor does a marvelous job of defining the stout. Rich, delicious, perfectly sweetened...I know that I’m going to want more. Unfortunately I only have one because this is one of the beers Anthony gave me. I’ve already texted him to ask him to get me more. If he can’t, I might have to make the 30 minute drive out to their brewery to do some curb-side pick-up. I know that’s not much of a drive, but in a shelter-in-place situation there’s no absolute need for me to go out...but damn do I want to. Honestly this whole review is going to be more about motorcycles than the beer because I’m at a loss for words. All I’m going to say is if you have the opportunity to get this beer, do. not. hesitate. Even if you don’t like stouts or have never had a stout before, this is a good one to break the ice on. It’s purely delightful and challenging at the same time because of its upfront subtleties. Definitely gonna brag about this one to my North Carolina and Colorado friends. I also have to give props to the artwork on the can. Cute little cat with a helmet and leather jacket on riding a bike. Absolutely adorable. Plus, safe! This cat is doing a better job of practicing AGATT than some bikers I’ve seen on the road. If nothing else get the beer for the cute cat. I’m sure my sister might. 

All in all, I love my bike just as much as I love a good beer. Like having a good beer, riding it is my way of settling down after a long day of being on my feet. It’s my time to reflect on whatever I please. I only ever ride back roads because they’re classically windy and less crowded. It becomes about connecting with the flow of the road. It’s an old cliche, but it’s 100% true, and I didn’t learn this until I started riding. It’s also sometimes my time to catch up with my dad. We have these communication sets built into our helmets which means we can talk to each other on the road. Like I said, we actually have the same bike with the only differences being the year and the color. Mine is a 2009 blue Honda Rebel that we call “Big Blue”, and his is a 2014 red Honda Rebel that we have for some reason yet to name. Makes sense we have the same bike considering we’re basically the same person. These are perfect starter bikes, and I couldn’t be happier with them, but this beer makes me want to go out and get an old fashioned cafe racer and ride all over town. If only, if only. One day for sure but until that point, I’m gonna go find another one of these Cafe Cruisers because this stuff is grin-inducing.