Turn Right, Go Left

In my calming walks over to the open fields at Mission College, I noticed motorcycles on a trailer and cones carefully placed in the parking lot. On one of these occasions, I approached. “What do you have going on here?”

Tom introduced himself and his motorcycle driving classes. “We spend several sessions right here; then I go with you to pass your DMV driving test.”

It had been a long while since I’d been on a bike, and I was humble enough to admit I wasn’t a particularly good rider. Here was a way to get back on two wheels, feel the freshness of the ride, the intense concentration required for survival.

On one instance, Tom rode around me in a circle, holding only the inside handlebar. He pushed it ahead, turning the wheel to the outside. The more he turned, the sharper the turn inward became. “Whoa!” was all I could say.

He stopped and explained. “Under about 12 mph, the bike follows the direction of the front tire. Above that, the bike ‘falls’ away from that direction. You turn the opposite way.”

Enligthening! I recalled driving up Highway One in the Seventies. I always had to slow down on the sharp turns. Otherwise, I just couldn’t get the bike to follow the tight twists of asphalt without threatening to tip. Yet other riders were blazing past me. This explained it.

Paul Gunther came up from SoCal the next week with one of ITI’s sales reps. They were both riders, Rick using his bike to commute. Paul’s wife had convinced him to turn in his Harley for a Corvette — a safer move.

“Harleys,” I moaned. “The rumble may sound good, but you can’t see out of the rear view mirrors for the vibration!”

Paul laughed and nodded. Rick said, “I never use my rear view mirrors. I’m only looking ahead!”

Now it was my turn to laugh. “So, you only zip through the traffic. You’ve got a lot of faith in tired and anxious drivers!”

He acknowledged the risk. I told them about my lessons. “I never knew about counter-steering. It’s counter-intuitive.” Paul looked perplexed. “You know, turning left to have the bike fall right.”

Still perplexed, he said, “You push the handlebar on the side you want to turn. Push right, turn right.”

“Yea, but that means your front tire is pointing the opposite way.”

The light turned on for him too. At least he’d been doing it right. At high speed, the push required was so minimal one could follow instinct. But at lower speeds on sharp turns, everything was different.

In a way, this reminded me of my failed strategies of Internet investing. I kept trying to assign logic to the frivolous movements of stock prices. Revenues came out strong? Should be a tick up; but investors expected more, so down it went. New products launched? Should be a boost; but investors worried about lack of focus. Maybe the money men just didn’t know what to do.

In any case, ties to logic were hypothetical, often counter-intuitive. Turn right, go left.