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I feel like I’m a bit of a different breed when it comes to riding. Sure, all of us snowflakes want to feel different or unique or special in some way…but in my case, I think I truly am different. It’s a very rare thing for me to come across a motorcyclist like myself. I don’t just like to ride motorbikes. I don’t fire up my bike on occassion to make a run down to Jamba Juice or Starbucks to go shoot the shit with my friends. I don’t commute on my motorcycle to work to try and cut my commute times. I don’t load up everything on my bike on the occassional weekend to go smash out 15 states in 24 hours.

I LIVE to ride. I ride to live. It’s literally my life. And by “literally”, I don’t mean figuratively.

It sounds so god damned cliche, I know. And I’m sorry for sounding so freggin cliche! I’m not sure how else to put it. During lunch, David M—a multiple YCRS graduate—talked about all the cool things he’s done in life and how there have been diminishing returns on it all….everything except for motorcycles. He said that he feels as though over his 6 or so years of riding, the experience has gotten even better. He enjoys it more now than he ever has. I completely understood his words. I’ve been riding on the pavement for close to 20 years now, and I relate down to my very soul. My only reply to his words were that “if I’m not riding, I’m not happy.” Anything else would have just been more sappy drivvel. There have been a few times in the last two decades where I didn’t own a motorcycle. Short periods of time….but…dark times. Very dark times.

But back to my point…hehe…

The other day, I did a group ride. It’s very seldom that I ever ride in groups, let alone with even one other rider. I can’t even count how many times in the past I’ve done group rides and watched people cartwheel into oblivion in my rear view mirrors or right in front of me. People are so ego driven in our sport that it’s comically sad. Or it’s sadly comical…I guess it all depends on the amount of injuries said rider sustained in said crash. I can look back and laugh at 90% of them. Some, I don’t even talk about except to a few of my close, trusted people. I’m sure most of us can share in those sentiments…afterall, motorcycles are dangerous.

CA 2 HWY 2 angeles crest highway ach
Our spot for the night on Angeles Crest Highway
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I got to ride the Yamaha Niken today at the track with the Yamaha Champion Riding School. Niken means “two swords” in some language, I’m told, in case you were wondering.

But before I get into any of that, I want to preface this little review with a little known fact about me: I’m an oldschool dick.Especially when it comes to motorcycles, I’m very resistant to change. I’ve never owned a motorcycle that had a quick shifter. I don’t like slipper clutches or Rekluse clutches. I don’t want auto-blip. I don’t use traction control…I’ve ridden damn near every modern day motorcycle known to man, both electric and petrol based. All I need is for someone to gimme a motor and two wheels without all the frills and I’m happy. Now get off my lawn!

Back to the Niken review…the TL;DR version: WOW. FUCKING WOW.

The more in depth review: WOW. FUCKING WOW.

yamaha niken wheelie two up
And to answer the number one question I’ve seen to date about the Niken: “Why yes, sir, it does do wheelies.” Photo: Anthony Sansotta
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Today is a day I’ll never forget. Today, I got to share the track with 11 of Phoenix’s finest. Today, I got to do epic two-up wheelies with Brianna all over Arizona Motorsports Park next to, past, and in front of the PoPo. Today was fantastic.

phoenix police motors unit
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My first Yamaha Champions Riding School that I worked at was in April of 2008. Ten and a half years ago. One day, my friend and favorite optician Dr. David Benkle sent me a message and said “there’s this really cool school you should see if you can shoot in Las Vegas!” I contacted Nick Ienatsch, whoever the hell that was, and sought permission to shoot. I was given an apprehensive “o-o-o-o-okay.” I didn’t know it at the time, but Nick stutters sarcastically when he’s not entirely convinced of an idea. Afterall, the school was brand new at the time as well.

ycrs lvms las vegas

My detailed memories of the first school are pretty blurry, to be honest. I busted my ass the entire two days making sure to turn Nick’s stutter into something more confident when I asked to come back to the next school. I sat in during every classroom session, I was on track for every track session. Not only was I trying to capture every moment on camera so I can make sales, but I was devouring the information given by the instructors. They had a lot of things to say that made complete sense. They basically threw every fundamental you could think of at the students, and also backed it all up with the “why” and the “how” that I needed to hear to improve my own riding. I was very much a “but WHHHYYY, mom?” kinda kid.
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It’s late in the day at Chuckwalla Valley Raceway. The sun is low in the sky, yet still shining brightly through a thin layer of clouds. The winds are steady, cold, and piercing through my hoodie I’m wearing. Dust is swirling across the track and upwards into my eyes, my nose, and everywhere as far as I can still see on the horizon. There’s grit in my mouth that I’m constantly spitting out. It’s cold. Very cold.

chuckwalla cvma sunset
Where I shall stand
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I’m only writing this because I’m tired of seeing “It’s a Wrap, AFM!” blaring in my face. I figured I’d share a little bit about what I’ve been up to lately…

DRIVING! I’VE BEEN DRIVING EVERYWHERE! YAAAARGH!

I’ve been shooting a bunch up at Miller Motorsports Park since April. Been doing most of their school stuff, i.e., Ford Racing School, Boss Track Attack, Raptor Assault, And the Yamaha Champion Riding School. It’s rad. Very Rad. Here’s some pics for proof.

miller motorsports park mmp utah tooele snowy peaks
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So here I am again, so far past a proper time of day and well into an improper time of night. If I had a real deadline I would be beyond it, and probably unemployed. Lucky for me Joe has twin babies, and will be too tired to realize until it no longer really matters. Hell, I think the dirty clothes from the trip are still in the hamper. A week ago tomorrow we made the trip to Las Vegas. Las-effing-Vegas, city of lights and neon, where there should be no water, yet great man made lakes reside. Where fire erupts from volcano’s so heated you can feel it from the far side of the strip. And tomorrow, tomorrow we leave again, this time for Arizona. I should have written this the day we got back, maybe even started while we were still there. As is there won’t be any pictures until later, I’m sure Joe will add them as he see’s fit anyway. I’ve decided its not my responsibility this time.

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