On an infrequent temperate sunny day in the Pacific Northwest in early March, I took a “maintenance ride” on my Honda Aero with the idea of finding a road or two local to my neighborhood in Renton that I had not ridden before.  I happened to “luck up” on some new rides by taking SE May Valley Road east to Issaquah Hobart Road Southeast, then continuing east at SR18.  Once past SR18 the road name changes in short order from 276th Avenue SE to Issaquah-Ravensdale Road and then to Landsburg Road SE, before dispersing into several local loop roads near the small town of Ravensdale, north of Enumclaw.  The roads here would make a nice scenic ride east and south to SR410 in Enumclaw, which leads up to Mt. Rainier.

As I rode along Landsburg Road SE several miles east of SR18, I rode by something that you would not expect to see in a heavily forested residential area – a “Yellow Submarine” that was “dry docked” on the side of the road.  It appeared to be constructed from metal barrels of different diameters that were welded together, capped by a cone-shaped nose, and was complete with conning tower, a periscope, and even an “aft propellor.”  It was finished in yellow paint (of course), and complete with a period Beatles logo painted on the side.  The folk art submarine put a smile on my face, and I promised myself that I would bring back my camera for a few photographs on my next ride in the area.

Several weeks later, on an early Spring day’s ride, I stopped by again, this time with my camera, and parked my bike on the side of the road near the yellow submarine.  As I was taking some photographs, an older local resident named “Al” stopped by in his pickup truck to see if I was having mechanical problems of any sort (nice folks in the Issaquah area!).  When I told him I was photographing the yellow submarine, he proceeded to tell me something of the history of the whimsical local landmark.

Al told me that the all-metal structure had been built by a resident that lived in a house back off of the road behind the landmark, and that as a high school student, he had built the submarine as a project for art class sometime in the late 70s.  Since then it has had its home in several locations on this road, and in the last few years was permanently “moored” here near the builder-artist’s current residence.  It has remained, from what I was told, a landmark in the area for 35 years.

Al also told me that he had been a motorcycle rider, and had owned many Harley Davidsons in his time, but did not ride anymore.  When he asked about my bike, I told him it was a Honda, and as I stepped towards it to show him the bike, he put his hands up, palms out, and said, “No, I ride Harleys, I can’t get near that thing” (…uh, what?)  Well, I appreciated his stopping by to offer assistance, and the wealth of knowledge he had about the yellow submarine landmark, but I just don’t get the (sometimes weird) Harley thing.  Go figure.

Over the course of the years I have ridden a motorcycle, there have been two incidents that have remained lodged in my memory, and both these experiences had to do with riders displaying some combination of a dangerous level of inexperience, arrogance or both while riding their motorcycles.  These incidents remained with me because in both cases, the behavior of these two riders not only endangered themselves, but also directly endangered me, and in one of the cases, put a young child at risk as well.

One incident was on the return home after an afternoon’s ride in the North Georgia mountains.  I was proceeding south on Hwy. 129 in Cleveland, Georgia at about the speed limit, which was 45 mph.  A group of 8 to 10 riders were waiting at a stop sign to make a right hand onto the rural highway.  There was a gap in traffic big enough to allow about half the group to make a right turn in front of me, which they did.  This left the second half to turn into the highway behind me.  This separated their group into two sections, which was the first indication that the riders did not “know the ropes” about group riding, and that at least the leader of the group had not taken a rider safety course.

The leader’s choice to break up the group on the turn had put me in the center of the group of riders.  I was on a BMW R1150RT sport-touring bike, and the group were on large cruisers.  I am not sure what roll peer pressure or group identification plays in situations like these, but as I was riding just to the right of center in the lane, the first rider in the back half of the separated group took it upon himself to pass me on the left side, in my lane, without any kind of encouragement from me to do so.  I had been periodically looking back to monitor the group in my rear view mirror, but the rider rode past me without any indication that he was going to do it – no horn, no bright lights flashed, nothing.  What’s worse, on the back of his bike he was carrying a young girl, maybe his daughter or niece, who was wearing a half helmet, a tee-shirt and shorts, and sneakers or sandals.  Had there been any reason at that moment that I needed to change my position in the lane – oil on the road, rough pavement or an object to avoid, the three of us would probably have collided and been seriously injured, or worse.  It is certainly possible that the young girl would have received injuries that she would have to deal with for the rest of her life.

The second situation happened on a two-lane country highway through North Georgia farm country.  I was riding on a long straight gradual downhill on a section of the highway that had no visibility problems, on a long passing lane with no oncoming traffic.  I would estimate that my speed was approximately 60 mph.  I had seen another rider back several hundred yards on my last look in the rear-view mirror, and seconds later he rode past me – in my lane – doing what I would estimate was somewhere well over a hundred miles an hour.  I want to emphasize that there was absolutely no reason for this rider to pass in my lane; the oncoming lane was empty, the lane had a broken yellow line, it was a downhill section with plenty of visibility for at least a few hundred yards, and there was no traffic anywhere else in the vicinity.  This idiot (and I am telling it like it is) did this for no other reason that I can think of than that he was on a sportbike and I was on a cruiser, and I guess he thought that was reason enough for the borderline psychotic move.  At the speed this rider was traveling, had I needed to make any kind of lane position change at the time he went by me, there is little doubt that one or both of us would have been killed.  I have to admit that if I had caught up to him at a stop along the way home, I would have been tempted to bash his fool head in with my helmet.

I can’t explain why some who ride motorcycles get it in their heads to pull the intentional and very stupid moves described here.  Most every rider, myself included, can remember a move that they made on a motorcycle that they realized in retrospect was probably not the safest call to make, but that is a far cry from making moves that endanger the lives of others.  There is simply no excuse for that kind of “lapse in judgement.”  In the case of the group of riders, I estimated the median age group to be well over the forty-year-old mark.  Since the sportbike rider, surprisingly enough, was wearing a full face helmet and a riding suit, I could not estimate his age, but what he was wearing would indicate that he was an experienced rider, at least on some level.  You would expect better from those with a bit more experience on a motorcycle, and certainly those with more life experience in general, but obviously, there are no guarantees.  Making the bad moves these riders made crosses the line from endangering oneself to endangering the lives of others, and that behavior – not just on a motorcycle but in any circumstance – is inexcusable.  Whether actions like these stem from a lack of rider training or a totally arrogant and wanton disregard for the safety of others, either situation can and often does lead to disaster.