Honda 650

So, I just turned 51 a month ago. Against both better judgment and good advice, I've frequently made use of a "piki" for transportation. These are local motorcycle taxis, usually 100, or occasionally, 125 hp, so named because their early incarnations were so low-powered that their burbling motors sounded like "piki-piki-piki-piki-piki". In all my years, I've never been on a real motorcycle . at all . ever. Yesterday, I did - riding on the back of a Honda 650 driven by a Ugandan motocross champion, Arthur Blick (pronounced "Bleek," I theenk - just a little joke there). It was the end of a long day's training session (not for us, though we were privileged to observe) and Arthur was in a hurry to get home. Now, in all fairness, he didn't do anything I wouldn't have done and he DID apologize for "not exactly following all the laws," to which I courageously answered, "experts can do that". I would've given a version of Henry V's St. Crispin's Day speech, which I prepared long ago for just such an event, except it's hard to generate the proper levels of emotional intensity through clenched teeth; also, I was trying to control my bladder and not scream (. too much). I must also add that he never came close to the actual performance capabilities of the machine, though he seriously taxed his passenger's abilities to remain affixed to the seat behind him.
- Now, I never for a moment doubted for Arthur's safety. And I believed (then, as now, when blood flow and heart rates have all returned to normal) the chances were good that I would also live. I also believed, however, that the chances for my death or dismemberment remained greater than desirable (ever . ever . ever). God DOES answer prayer, and we arrived safely, though it took me a bit longer than expected to pry my benumbed claws from the seat handles and "deplane".
- "Why?" you ask, "does a middle-aged, wanna-be academic place himself in such a position?" Mid-life crisis? (No. I have waaaaay too many real crises to waste time on such penny-ante stuff.) A life-time of thrill-seeking and risk-taking? (Nope. Remember, this was my first time on a motorcycle and the bungee-jumping rig in Jinja will ALWAYS be safe from me for EVER.) Purely dollars and cents. Not only am I a long-standing and notorious tight-wad (even if only in my own mind), but I am a penurious missionary to boot. And I drive an aging (if rugged and much loved) Toyota Landcruiser. Jean and I bought a couple of Yamaha 225 off-road bikes from Arthur (and he had NOT been paid at the time of "the ride"). She has a license and I rode a bicycle once. So, training is important. We expect to use the Yamahas for moving around in our ministry area and reserve "the bull" for team and long-range journeys. This will diminish our "big-rich-NGO" footprint, preserve the truck and reduce its operational costs. Too, motorcycles can go a lot of places that a truck can't. So, it just makes sense to risk your life in order to save a few bucks on truck maintenance - ha! Plus, it's waaay cool
- now, I must say a word about Arthur: he's a great guy; mild-mannered and soft-spoken; a good instructor who came with a high recommendation from an MK (who is also a former, East Africa, rally-car-champion driver). But, take my word for it, it's MUCH better to be the driver than the passenger, no matter who's driving.