Ridin' For Harambe, Part 27
Today's rider is forum favorite and long-time commenter Nate, showing off his new (to him) Beemer.
"Here are two pix of my new 1975 BMW R60/6, a true barn find from Ventura, Ca. it has 8,000 original miles and I rode it home, it's all turned up now, I still have some little things to address but it's safely rideable and fun." However, this ain't Nate's first aircooled-twin rodeo... and the crash pictures after the jump are not for the faint of heart.
For a few years, Nate was riding the relatively rare Ural Solo. Most of us have seen the sidecar-equipped, Urals, and you may have read the amazing nonstop adventure that Sam Smith and Zach Bowman endured a few years ago in a brand-new Ural. (Is it really an "adventure" if another man is watching your dick on the freeway? It's a question without a ready answer.) The prevalence of Ural sidehack bikes has convinced many casual motorcyclists that the company doesn't make "singles" --- but they do, and Nate was the owner of one. Note the custom cane holder; Nate was badly injured in a previous crash (a gypsy cab ran him down at a stoplight) and he continues to need some assistance in that regard.
Unfortunately, he was badly injured again. "I'm sitting in my wheelchair because I also broke both knees... Notice the left fork is _BROKEN_ ~ I've been riding for decades and have never seen an impact so hard it broke a fork . the frame occasionally but never a broken fork and these are Ceriani forks."
They sewed him up...
...and sent him home. So what is it about motorcycling that causes men (and yeah, it's almost always men) to keep riding after multiple injuries and terrifying near-misses? Why can't all of us, including Nate and your humble author, just give up and buy an SUV or a Tesla or something decent like a Nissan Note? Why would two young fathers like Sam and Zach risk leaving a pair of widows and a trio of fatherless children, just to ride some yester-tech sidehack along the California coastline?
I know the answer to that question, but I can't tell you. It's something you will have to learn for yourself, somewhere out there between the rush-hour traffic and the open roads of Montana. Here's the tough part: once you learn it, you'll never forget. Even if you'd like to.