The Novice and the Motorcycle: A Comedy of Errors

Learning to ride a motorcycle is a rite of passage. It looks simple from the outside—just balance, twist the throttle, and off you go, right? But the reality is that the first steps of motorcycling are more like a slapstick comedy routine, often performed in front of an audience of grinning friends who are all too eager to document your every mistake for future mockery.

The first enemy of the novice is the throttle. What appears to be a finely tuned control of speed quickly turns into a one-way ticket to chaos. New riders tend to twist the grip as though it’s the handle of a slot machine, praying for the jackpot of control but instead hitting the dreaded full lock. Suddenly, the calm hum of the engine roars into a banshee scream, and the rider, wide-eyed and terrified, clings on like a cowboy riding an angry bull. The bike leaps forward, and within seconds, the rider is headed straight toward the house, the fence, or the neighbor’s carefully tended rose garden.

Inevitably, the result is a collision of sorts. Whether it’s embedding the front wheel into the fence or parking squarely against the brick wall of the garage, the outcome is always the same: a bruised ego, a slightly bent handlebar, and an audience of friends doubled over in laughter. Motorcycling, after all, is a sport best enjoyed with companions—especially when those companions are on the sidelines, shouting unhelpful advice like “Just let go of the throttle!” or “Lean into it!” as if their encouragement is going to magically transform a panicked beginner into Valentino Rossi.

Once the dust has settled and the motorcycle has been pried free from the fence post, comes the second rite of passage: the ribbing. Friends have a way of turning a novice’s mistakes into legendary tales. That small wobble at low speed becomes, in their retelling, a wild fishtail that nearly took out three mailboxes. The gentle nudge into the hedge is exaggerated into a high-speed, hedge-trimming maneuver worthy of a gardening contract. And of course, the phrase “full throttle into the house” will be repeated endlessly, long after the bruises (and repair bills) have faded.

The banter, though merciless, is part of the bond of motorcycling. Every seasoned rider has been through the same awkward beginnings. They’ve all stalled at traffic lights, fumbled with the clutch, or, yes, plowed into immovable objects at embarrassing speeds. The teasing is a way of welcoming the newbie into the fold, a badge of honor that says: you’ve made the mistakes, now you’re one of us.

Over time, the novice learns. The throttle becomes less of a grenade pin and more of a tool. The clutch stop being a mystery and starts to feel like second nature. And eventually, the same rider who once went full speed into the fence is cruising confidently down the road, laughing at the next poor soul who repeats the exact same mistakes.

Because at the end of the day, learning to ride isn’t just about mastering the machine—it’s about collecting the stories, the scars, and the laughter that come with it.

It's funny how things work. I got a phone call from a friend of mine who wanted to buy this. We discussed the bike and agreed on a price. All good, I send the bike away for a final tune, rego and warrant etc etc. During the course of this I get two other people call me up wanting to buy the bike, both cash buyers and immediate sale. I have to do the right thing and decline their offers, 1 was a better offer, So did I do the right thing?

Beautiful motorcycle

Paint off of the chart, clean clear crisp.

Clean and simple, I recall as a young lad lusting afetr one of these, now I've had 4 and I would still like another one.

I must finish this bloody motorcycle. It's been sitting for far too long

Unless of course someone wants to buy it. Going for a good price

Found these images of a MHR that I completed a couple of years ago. It still amazes me how good this restoration came out given it's state when I got the bike. Pretty chuffed with this actually.

A good porch is just as important as a good ride. Hours can be spent here sorting out the issues in your head. Never turn down the offer to sit a while.

Those that know, know. What a line up. A few million there now.

I got my drivers license in one of these. The cop was more interested in the car than my driving abilities ( learnt on a Massey Fergusson around a golf course).

Two greats of NZ road racing on two greats of NZ engineering

Yamaha always did build good tanks, and the colour schemes of today replicating the past looks bloody good as well

Just stunning, I've always said it's all about the paint.

This was an engine and a half. XR75 specifically for flat track.

Ahhhhh, I just love paris.

Now if you put Ducati badges or Aprilia badges on this people would think it was even more stunning than what it is. I have to admit it looks bloody brilliant, a beautiful motorcycle, well done Japan

Still, some bikes just have it. Well done Italy

Now that's a great looking pie.

What a lovely image, these bikes were epic, I still miss having one in my garage to this day.

As I close out this latest installment of my blog, I find myself reflecting not just on motorcycles, but on the connections, and shared stories that come along for the ride. Writing these posts is always a joy, but what makes it truly worthwhile is knowing that somewhere out there, fellow riders, enthusiasts, and dreamers are reading, nodding in recognition, and maybe even smiling at a memory stirred. That sense of community is what fuels me, and it’s why I continue to do this.

Much like shutting off the ignition after a perfect ride, there’s always the temptation to keep going, to push on for just one more mile, one more corner. But every ride has its natural end, and every story deserves a pause before the next one begins. This is that moment for me: a chance to thank you, my readers and friends on two wheels, for riding alongside me through these words.

Motorcycling, at its heart, is about sharing. Sharing the road with mates. Sharing advice in a workshop or roadside when a bike decides to misbehave. Sharing a story over coffee at a rest stop. This blog has been my way of sharing with you, and in turn, your messages, comments, and quiet encouragement have reminded me that our passion is never solitary. It’s a collective experience, held together by that unique combination of noise, speed, beauty, and freedom that only a motorcycle can deliver.

 I’d like to ask a small favor. If you’ve enjoyed these words, if they’ve resonated in any way, I’d be truly grateful if you could share the blog with your fellow riders and friends. Spread the word to that mate who just bought his first bike, to the seasoned rider who has seen it all, or even to the curious soul who has yet to swing a leg over a saddle but dreams of doing so. The more we share our passion, the bigger and stronger our community becomes.

The world of motorcycling is vast, yet it can feel wonderfully small when we connect through stories, pictures, and experiences. By sharing this blog, you help keep that spirit alive and thriving, ensuring that the tales, lessons, and laughter reach others who might just need a spark of inspiration or a reminder of why we love this mad, beautiful world of two wheels.

As for me, I’ll be back again soon with more reflections, stories, and no doubt the occasional rant about the quirks and joys of life on a motorcycle. Until then, may the roads ahead be kind to you, the weather stay in your favor, and your rides be filled with moments worth remembering. And above all else travel, travel travel. Enjoy the ride, the people, and the places, you just never know where your atomic clock is at.

Thank you again for being part of this journey. Keep riding, keep sharing, and above all, keep the passion alive.

Until next time—ride safe, ride far, and ride with a smile.