Tales from the Yamaha.

Oh what the hell, why not tell my story too. Maybe I'll make it into a series of stories if people like this stuff.I always talk about my progression as a rider, and I've seen countless threads about rider progression recently. So why don't I throw my stories into the mix too?It's been nearly a full season of riding for me, and I have to say, I was one of the lucky ones. I've put on about 10,000 miles since I started. I picked up the sport very quickly, and I have managed to not get injured while riding. A win in my book. Damn, have I been lucky.My journey starts in the summer of 2018. In a car. On a local drag strip. During a hot-ass August evening. I ended up on that very strip after some big changes in my life. I was looking for some new experiences, I wanted something exciting to do in my life! So there I was, barreling down the quarter at 122 MPH. 12.4 Seconds. Not bad for a beginner, but not what the car could do. I knew I could do a better run. I could do exactly what the manufacturer stated my car could do. 75-odd runs, and a couple sets of tires later, I got it. 125 MPH and 11.4 seconds. Not bad for a stock-ass Hellcat. For what it was worth, I felt accomplished. Especially for running all-season tires. However, I got the bug. I was addicted to not just speed, but learning new vehicular skills. Anddddddddd it all went downhill from there.Within a few weeks of ending my season I was looking into fast bikes. I binge watched everything involving the TT, MotoGP, and such. I also needed something to do while procrastinating with schoolwork. And just as my Mom was always there to watch me race, she was always there to listen to my new two-wheeled obsession. In between classes I would watch bikes, visit bike shops, read about bikes, and speak about them. I was hooked on motorcycles the second I started really looking at them and knew I had to ride.So there I was in the Fall of 2018 - A baby squid, just stretching its tentacles. Or not exactly....... I did my research and found the gear that I wanted to buy. I was ATGATT BABY from the start. I did my research on my bike, and knew I wanted to get an R3. I was Yammie Noob's quintessential "Researched Rider". Ironically, I listened to everyone else but him. I purchased bits of gear, piece by piece. I ended up getting an AGV Corsa R Arrabiata, A*'s Missile Jacket, Dainese Bonneville Pants, Supertech R's for boots (In John McGuinness colors), and some A*'s gaunlet gloves. I felt like I was the shit. Come December 2018 I was humbled.Now, I admit, this was not the smartest idea I have ever come up with, but my gut told me I could do it. I ended up finding a used R3 in CT during the holiday season. The owner wanted to get rid of it, and I was more than happy to take it off his hands. The only problem was, I was a permit rider. I had never ridden before, and while I was ATGATT - my only education consisted of that what I heard, watched, or read. I didn't have a moto-friend to ride my new bike home, or a trailer to trailer it home. But I did have a permit. And confidence. So, on a cold December morning, I drove down to CT with my Dad, I looked over the bike, and handed him some Benjamin's."How do you plan on getting the bike home?", the seller asked. I gave him a dopey grin. "I'm riding it home!". He said a skeptical "Good luck.", and for the first time ever, I threw my leg over my first bike. I remembered my highly advanced Youtube training. Kickstand up - check. Killswitch off - check. Clutch in - check. Starter on - HOLY SHIT ITS ALIVE. Okay, "Just feather the clutch out", I say to myself. A little bit, a little bit moreeee..... getting into the friction zone.....CLUNK. Fuck. I stalled it.Now, this happened a few more times as I inadvertently practiced a friction zone drill in the sellers driveway. My own makeshift MSF course, if you will. Once I got the hang of it, the real challenge was getting it back home. I had a two hour ride home from CT to MA. I still had that gut feeling saying I could do it. Though I really had no choice if I didn't want to leave my shiny new R3 on the side of a CT back road. The biggest obstacle was the cold. Did I mention this was during the December Holidays? It was 35 degrees out. I devised a plan. I would ride 30 minutes, then pull over, and go into my Dad's car to warm up. Problem solved, or so I thought...I rode out of the sellers driveway, still confident as ever. I manged to switch gears, use my turn signals, and lean the bike just enough. I thought I was going fast enough to pass Rossi, but I was doing a measly 20 MPH. Fast enough for a new rider. I fueled up the bike, and limped over to a nearby church parking lot. I practiced for about 2 hours doing basic lot drills. Clutch, gears, stop, go, etc. It was like 2pm, and it was going to start getting dark soon. My Dad and I headed towards the highway in a leapfrog fashion. 30 Minutes of riding, 20 minutes of warming up in the car. Once I got going faster than parking lot speeds, boy was I cold. No matter how often I warmed up, I still felt cold.However, I knew it was all worth it when I got my first biker wave. Some one else was riding in the cold too! I saw his bike coming a mile away, and as he approached I knew that I had to carry out my duty as a new biker. A dropped deuces like I had been programmed to. He reciprocated! I had the biggest shit-eating grin under my helmet as we passed. I was in. For what it was worth, I felt like a true rider at that point.Past the other winter rider, onto the highway now. Holy fuck was riding on that highway cold. Even though the R3 is faired, it felt like I was buck-ass naked inside an industrial-sized freezer. Not fun. Halfway through the ride home, I stopped in a service station McDonald's. The cashier probably thought I was having a stroke when I was like "I'llllll hab some friiiiiiiiii iiiiii essssss plissss.". My lips were damn near frozen shut. Fuck the fries. I just needed an excuse to pull over and warm up. A small fry later, I was back on the highway. It was night by now. And colder. I couldn't feel my finger tips at this point. Thank god I had a few layers underneath my race suit top to keep my core warmed enough. It was still a gorgeous moonlit ride - the first of many. Once I crossed the border into MA, I would have kissed the ground if I could have. It meant that I was more than halfway home. Thankfully, the rest of the ride was uneventful. Cold - but uneventful.An otherwise 2 hour ride turned into a 5 hour trip home, after my parking lot drills. I took it slowly, but safely. But god damn, it was worth it. I got a good deal on a great bike. I stared at that thing for hours afterwards. Even after I hobbled it into my house.Was it a stupid idea riding it home 5 hours with no riding experience, in challenging conditions? Maybe. But it worked. And I knew I could do it. And I did it.Now, I knew that I wanted to get into motorcycles to ride fast bikes. All thanks to drag racing. But I knew I had to do it all the right way and spend my time on smaller displacement bikes first. So, after I brought home my R3, my journey was really just beginning. I was ecstatic to be finally riding, after months of planning.Here she is, a couple of days after I brought her home.https://imgur.com/a/D86avD3I got plenty more stories to tell, and plenty more time to cover in my riding progression. If you guys like, I'll keep on telling my story. Feel free to critique my writing as well, I always welcome tips to improve.TLDR: A story about my first ride. It's long, but I am hoping to provide entertainment or insight to newer riders. Enjoy! via /r/motorcycles https://www.reddit.com/r/motorcycles/comments/cu7swd/tales_from_the_yamaha/?utm_source=ifttt