Stave 1: Marley’s Ghost

Watching MotoGP on his big screen TV, Scrooge drifted off to sleep and dreamed of his old riding buddy Marley. Marley was seven years’ dead this very night when he tried to pass some slow cars on I-81 and clipped a truck. Suddenly, Marley’s ghostly figure floated into the room through the wall where the television hung. Scrooge recognized his Klim suit and long ponytail hanging out the back of his flip-front helmet. Through the open visor, he saw his familiar expression of eyes wide with fear and apprehension. His thick buckled enduro boots were on his feet. His ghostly form was transparent so Scrooge could see through his body and read “BMW MOA National” written on the back of his rally tee shirt.

“What are you?” Scrooge asked, not believing his eyes. “In life, I was your riding partner, Marley, but now I wander the roads and trails as a spirit. I observe motorcyclists and despair at their poor skills and reckless decisions.” “Bah, humbug,” Scrooge replied. “I don’t believe in ghosts or sanctimonious safety snobs telling me how I should ride.”

Marley released the chinbar latch and raised the front of his helmet. As he did so, his chin fell upon his chest and a wailing sound like an engine revving 3K RPM past redline came out of his hideous, gaping maw. Scrooge fell to the floor in a swoon and held his hands over his ears. “Oh, foolish rider, you have but one chance of escaping my fate. A chance that I secured for you.” “Thank you, Marley. You were always a good friend and waited for me to catch up at intersections.” Marley continued “You will be visited by three spirits of past, present, and future. Expect the first when the Dutch GP ends, the next when the British GP ends, and the third when the Austrian GP begins.

As he spoke, he slowly walked back to the wall and closed the chinbar of his helmet with a loud snap. He said, “Look to see me no more. No longer do I have to slow down so you can keep me in sight.” Then he took a final step through the wall. Scrooge heard an Akrapovic roar and fade away. Alone with his thoughts, Scrooge was flush with anger because he did not want to be haunted and he thought he could keep up with Marley any day.

Stave 2: The Ghost of Motorcycling Past

The TV announcer said, “That’s the final results from Assen” then a yellowish light shone in his eyes, and Scrooge heard the “putter-putter” of a boxer-twin. An airhead stopped next to him. Its rider, wearing a Bell three-quarter helmet, faded leather jacket, and blue jeans dismounted. The short rider removed his helmet and light shone upwards from his head. The ghosts’ features changed as Scrooge tried to focus on the face. It seemed alternately feminine and masculine. The skin morphed between smooth and a three-day beard. At times it was a young face and then suddenly old.

“Are you the spirit of motorcycling past?” Scrooge inquired. “Yes, I am” replied the voice which sounded near yet seemed to be distorted with distance. “BMW’s past?” he asked. “No, your motorcycling past. Get on the pillion.” The ghost started the boxer and Scrooge climbed on. Immediately, a sensation of great speed wrapped around them. The feeling ended as quickly as it began. They were in a parking lot with little orange cones.

“Why did that happen?” asked Mike. “As I live and breathe,” Scrooge exclaimed “it’s Ridercoach Mike! He taught me to ride.” Now the young vision of Scrooge said, “I grabbed the front brake because I was nervous.” He saw his younger self rubbing a skinned knee through the new hole in his jeans. “A patient soul was Mike” observed the ghost. “He was patient and calm and helped our confidence” Scrooge said fondly. “He helped me learn how to pass the test. I would not have my license if Mike had not been my instructor.” “He offered good advice about riding strategy and risk management, did he not?” asked the spirit. “Huh? Oh, yeah. He talked about the mental part of motorcycling and evaluating searches or executing them or something” Scrooge recalled absent-mindedly.

The spirit blipped the throttle and they zoomed away from the range. They were riding in a pack on Valley Road, one of his favorites, with his Beemer club. A younger Scrooge zoomed past the group on the wrong side of the double yellow line on a K100RS. The older Scrooge watched his younger self pass the others to be first into the corner. After leaning the bike over, the brake light came on and the bike wobbled as the forks compressed. Scrooge remembered the fear he felt as the K-Bike drifted closer to the outside of the curve.  Watching the replay of his mistake, Scrooge saw that he was even closer to the edge than he thought at the time. The spirit’s voice, although seemingly a whisper, was louder than the wind. “That was your first brush with disaster, I think.” Scrooge thought to himself, “I did not realize how bad my form was. I thought I was so fast.” The scenery whirled around their heads, and they stood in the Ice Creamery’s parking lot among his riding partners who talked about the ride. “He almost overcooked that corner. He has not been riding long enough try it at that speed.” Another said “it has bad sight lines. I wouldn’t try it at that speed.” The rider with one-piece leathers said, “the speed would be okay on a track, but he’s not smooth.”

“Spirit,” Scrooge said, “take me back. What I see is not what I remember.” “You did not have the experience or training for self-evaluation,” replied the ghost. “Don’t be upset. Now you know enough to recognize what you need to improve and how to better manage risk. Get on the back and hold on. Next, we have a long montage of all the tickets you received and your search for affordable insurance.” Scrooge did not want to relive those experiences, so he grabbed the spirit’s helmet from his hands and forced it over his head backwards. As he did, the light emanating from the ghost’s head was extinguished. The helmet shrunk and changed shape into the TV remote, and the bright screen appeared. The announcer said “… and that’s the podium at Silverstone.”

Stave 3: The Ghost of Motorcycling Present

Looking around the room, Scrooge noticed a sliver of light coming from under the door to the garage. Slowly opening the door, his garage was bathed in light. It was filled to overflowing with shiny new motorcycles. There was every trim level of the R1250 line, RT & RS & R. There was a line of six-cylinder K1600GT & GTL, K1600 baggers, Grand America, R18s with fairings, R18’s baggers, and naked R18s with drag bars and even ape hangers. The rest of the heritage line was there. R nineT pure and scramblers and urban G/S and pure. All with the 719 options. There was a great pyramid of airheads, R100RT, R100RS, Slash Five and Sixes. At the top of the pyramid, seated on a new R1300GS, was a GS Rider wearing a high-viz Roadcrafter with Helite vest. He was a GS Giant and called out “Climb on the back of my GS and know me better, man.”

Scrooge got on the pillion seat and noticed the variety of lights and gadgets mounted on the GS. The spirit started the engine, and they roared off to a gathering of bikers. They found themselves in a crowded parking lot among all kinds of riders. Most were trying to merge into line ahead of somebody else. Two riders bumped into each other and got angry. The ghost turned on a powerful driving light and shone its amber beam across the riders. Immediately, they relaxed and said it was too nice a day to get upset. One said, “it doesn’t matter what you ride, as long as you ride.” The other replied “True, man. Ride Safe.”

“Did your light just stop a fight?” Scrooge asked the spirit. “It stops road rage. It clears the mind and illuminates the risks we face on the road” he replied. “I shine a light to see all around so riders can evaluate risks and responses. It removes the clouds from a rider’s mind so he can see.”

The world spun around, and they were next to a racetrack. Scrooge recognized his friends following an instructor showing the smooth line through two curves. The spirit pointed at them and said “They are learning how to ride smoothly through a corner so they can ride safer through the mountains. You are not with them.” “No,” Scrooge replied, “I was not comfortable with the idea of riding on a track.” “Are you afraid of the speed?” asked the spirit. “No,” Scrooge answered, “I don’t have the right bike for track riding, and I would not want to drop it.” “Foolish man,” intoned the ghost, “forebear your lame excuses. Your RT is designed for greater speeds than this. This track is safer than a street.” Scrooge looked down at his feet and shifted his weight. “I don’t want to look bad, and I don’t want to listen to some instructor telling me that I’m riding wrong.” The bikes pulled into the paddock and the riders dismounted. Scrooge listened to their excited chatter about how much fun it was. “I was not even trying to go fast. I was just trying to ride smoothly” said a F900XR rider. The instructor replied, “as you worked towards smoother riding, you went faster through the curves. Slow is smooth and smooth is fast.”

The laughter faded and the world spun again. They were in his garage watching a lonely Scrooge polish his R1250RT. It looked boring compared to the scene at the track. “Spirit,” Scrooge said, “Is something moving under your robe?” Pulling aside the hem of his garment revealed two creatures clinging to his legs. They were scrawny and dirty and glared at Scrooge with angry eyes and clenched teeth. The spirit solemnly said “these creatures belong to all motorcyclists. Their names are Fear and Ignorance. Fear stops us from trying new experiences and leaving our comfort zones to learn new skills. Ignorance lies to us that there is nothing new to learn, nothing to try. Together they convince us to ride the same way we have always ridden, like beginners who just wobbled off a Beginner Rider Course range. Beware of them both! Most of all, beware Ignorance.”

Scrooge did not know if the spirit and creatures glided away from him or if he was pulled away from them. Everything faded into darkness and then a soft glow appeared on the wall and an announcer said “Riders are on the grid here at Red Bull Ring – Spielberg…”

Stave 3: The Ghost of Motorcycling Future

The television’s glow dissolved into a streetlight and an asphalt line led to the distance. A rumbling like thunder shook the air as a dark figure rode up on an R18. The rider was enveloped in a flowing gown of black leather. A matte black half-helmet, dark goggles, and a mask with a skull’s mouth printed on it covered his head. The R18 was all black except for the thin white pinstripes and chrome exhausts fed by header pipes glowing red with heat. Scrooge trembled as the ghost stopped and turned his face towards him. The spirit stared at Scrooge from behind the opaque goggles for a minute and then slowly extended his arm straight and pointed ahead. “Spirit,” Scrooge whimpered, “I fear you more than a decreasing radius turn on a rainy night. Will you show me things that will happen or might happen?” The ghost did not move. “I’ve watched Back to the Future and other movies that tell us that we can change our timelines when the plot leads to a dead end.”  The spirit just kept pointing. “Very well spirit, lead on.”

The spirit covered Scrooge with his cloak then withdrew it. They were in his garage again, but it was empty. Scrooge was puzzled why the ghost would show him this. Obviously, he was out for a ride.

The ghost raised and lowered his arm again. They were now at the motorcycle dealership just outside the doorway of the finance manager’s office. Scrooge overheard the manager tell a customer, “I’m glad you’re not hurt too bad. Unfortunately, you cannot afford to replace your bike. Your insurance only paid the trade-in value of your bike, but you got a zero money down loan, and you still owe a lot. Because of the accident, your insurance dropped you and your rates will be sky-high now. I got a used R1100 that needs some work. You could afford that.”  Scrooge tried to lean into the doorway to see the unfortunate soul, but the spirit covered the scene with his cloak.

There was a flash of lightning and they stood in a junkyard on a rainy night. The spirit pointed to a wrecked motorcycle. There were remnants of a plastic fairing still attached to a bent frame, but the original shape was not discernable. One of the boxer’s cylinders was broken off and the jug was lying nearby. “Yes spirit, I see there was an accident. Perhaps the rider could have avoided it? Is that your message?” The ghost pointed to the back of the wreckage. Scrooge walked to where the spirit was and looked. Another lightening flash illuminated the license plate. “No,” Scrooge cried as he recognized his number. “No, I had the bike set up perfectly. I just dropped a ton of money upgrading the suspension.” Scrooge fell to his knees and grabbed the spirit’s leather cloak. “Please, spirit, tell me this is only a shadow of what would be if I keep doing what I have always done. Tell me I can change this future.” Scrooge wept as he clutched the garment which withered in his hand and changed from leather to plastic. Scrooge opened his eyes and, through his tears, saw the TV remote in his hand.

Stave 4: The End of It

Scrooge was back where he started. He turned off the television, tossed the remote onto the sofa, and ran to the garage. His Beemer was on its center stand, all shiny and perfect. Scrooge climbed onto it and patted its gas tank. “You’re not a wreck in a junkyard. You’re perfect and I’ll keep you perfect. I’ll learn how to ride safer. I’ll work on situational awareness and seeing 12 seconds ahead, behind, and to the sides. I’ll evaluate risks and be prepared to execute evasive maneuvers. I’ll improve his skills with parking lot practice. I’ll sign up for advanced training. I’ll become a smooth rider and never stop learning.”

Scrooge was true to his word. He enrolled in advanced training and started a group to do parking lot practice with. He reviewed his Basic Rider Course handbook and read new books about the mental side of motorcycling. He talked about Search, Evaluate, Execute and 360-degree awareness. His friends laughed at the change in him and called him a safety nerd. Scrooge laughed with them because he stopped caring about how others viewed him and found he enjoyed riding more as his confidence and skills grew.

Ride safe, every one.