This story originally appeared on the Gents Cafe Newsletter. You can subscribe here.
When there is no salt on the road and there is no rain in the sky, you can find me on a Saturday or Sunday morning on a coffee run with one of my old motorcycles. There are only a few excellent coffee places that open early in the morning where I live, and they offer a fair number of kilometres to ride to. My wife and children are still in bed or watching television, so I won’t be missed much.
It starts with putting on my motorcycle jeans. No matter how short the ride, I always wear my protective motorcycle clothing. Dress for the slide, not for the ride.
Then the ritual starts. Opening the garage door and letting the sunlight creep across the floor, erasing the darkness and shadows, shining light on my pride and joy—my small collection of motorcycles acquired over the years. The first decision is which one to take out. Once the choice has been made, she is wheeled out in front of the others. A short inspection begins. Any oil or fuel leaks? Speaking of oil, of course, no leaks beyond what you should expect from these 80-year-old motorcycles. Tire pressure alright? Oil level checked, and a quick glance at the amount of fuel left in the tank. All in order or adjusted? Then it is outside onto the driveway, fully clothed for the ride.
It is at this point that the kickstart ritual begins. All the noise in my head moves to the background. I need my eyes, ears and full attention on the start procedure. The petrol tap is opened by pushing the hexagonal knob inward. The air control lever is closed fully. The ignition is advanced, then eased back two-fifths of its travel. The throttle is cracked open just a touch, no more than a sixth of its full movement. The carburettor float chamber plunger is depressed until the chamber is full of petrol. Then the valve lifter lever is raised and the engine is turned over a few times on the kickstart to free it up. Once that is done, I kick down until I feel compression, raise the valve lifter to ease the engine just past it, let the kickstarter nearly return, and then give one long, swinging kick.
If I have done everything right, the calmness disappears as the engine roars into life. The air lever is slowly opened until she runs evenly, the throttle set to a moderate pace to warm up. Then a quick check to see if the oil is returning to the oil tank, confirming it is working its way through the engine. When that happens, the oil tank filler cap is screwed into place and the calmness returns. The slow pulse of the running engine sends a gentle vibration through the frame and the handlebars.
Then it is first gear, a soft hand on the throttle, and the coffee run begins, thinking of nothing else except the road and the motorcycle. 15 to 30 minutes of mental peace that I cannot find anywhere else, where nothing else seems to matter. Even in a busy life filled with family and work, it all goes away when I am riding that old motorcycle. My quiet time. The charge I need for the weekend and the week ahead.
