Tiny Dancer Goes Ice Skating: The Maiden Voyage of the Yamaha XT250

I recently bought a brand-new 2015 Yamaha XT250 a couple of weekends ago. I know, I know. "Underpowered bike," "You'll grow out of it," bla bla bla.

Technically, this isn't the official maiden run since I took her out to our local foothills and ran her around in the dirt for a couple of hours the other evening. But I didn't take any pictures then.  Still, this was her first attempt at a run up our local mountain roads, which involved some highway riding. I was sure to choose a good one.  One that is notorious for being in shitty condition year-round, but especially in the early spring when the snow has just started to melt in the higher elevations and the debris, dirt, and mud are still piled up at various spots in the roadway. This road is pretty much patchwork.  There are sections where entire chunks of pavement are missing right at the apex of corners, and the asphalt has sunken into the hillside.

Since the boyfriend doesn't have a dual sport yet, my chosen companion for this mission was my best friend and riding mentor.  17 long years of friendship and 8 years of him mentoring me through the trial and error of developing my motorcycling prowess; add to it, his expert level skill on all things two-wheeled and in most terrains and I figured that it wouldn't be much of a challenge for him on his V-star.

We hit the road.  Our destination was Breckenridge road.  It's a mountain road, like most others, that begins as some smooth undivided pavement in the barren foothills, but then winds its way up to some single lane dirty road peaking at 7,000 feet. It's a popular destination for dual sports and touring bikes.

Some pics I took during a scouting mission last year:

Whilst riding the XT on the highway, I tried to keep the rpms in the midrange.  As a result, she puttered along at a whopping 65 mph with the help of my head and shoulders in a full tuck to reduce some of the wind drag on her tiny frame and motor. It wasn't ideal, but it was manageable and I imagine that ditching the emissions shit and giving her a full exhaust system will at least let her breathe a little easier. As it was, she felt a little stifled (not that she has all that much power to begin with), but we made the most of the 10 mile jaunt to the connecting route. It was a smooth ride and I didn't feel anything of a shimmy from the front end.  The Bridgestone Trailwings felt pretty good whilst thrashing around in the dirty foothills, so I had no doubt they would do just fine in our trek up the mountain.

The first few corners of Breckenridge were dumped with dirt.  If I had been on my sportbike, I might have experienced a little anxiety, but the XT didn't even grimace and I have to admit that I felt a little pitter patter of excitement as I envisioned all of the obstacles that would soon be overcome by the mighty XT.

Ninja 250 - The Bike I Outgrew Before I Actually Grew Out Of It

Clippings from the Forum: Originally posted by me on March 1st 2016

My first bike was a Ninja 250. Honestly, I have owned and ridden so many bikes since then that I can't really accurately recall exactly what year it was... but I am pretty sure that it was somewhere around a 2001. Really, it doesn't matter. I'm pretty sure that bike could have taken the prize in a contest for the longest running model of vehicle with no updates.

I still fondly remember the day I bought it. It was some time in February and it was in LA. The gal who bought it put 26 miles on it brand new before she decided that riding wasn't for her. It was pristine and as I type this I even remember the way it smelled when the motor warmed up. It was a great bike. 

When we brought it home, my best friend rode us to an empty parking lot at the nearby college. It was there that I did the routine drills, re-igniting old muscle memories from the days of my youth when I blasted around in the dirt with my cousins well into the evening of hot summer days. Bikes were never foreign to me, but I had always sworn that I wouldn't take it to the street. Then one day I did, and I bought the 250.

There is no "braaaap!" involved in a Ninja 250. The song of this siren is a boisterous but feeble "VvvvvRRRROOOOOOMmm" as it's carbureted motor growls with endearing weakness like a sewing machine in an overworked sweatshop. I got comfortable on that bike, and not long after I bought it it became my sole mode of transportation. I rode it everywhere and no matter where I had to go, I always looked forward to going there because I was going there on my bike. 

On the weekends we rode the twisties. My friends on supersport bikes disappeared around corners with valiant howls of precisely tuned fuel injected systems and I puttered behind with inferiority as my little bike and my little skill level pushed the limits of our combined will to keep up with the big dogs. There were times when my frustration got the most of me as my mighty ninja fell behind but we kept at it and as miles passed I picked up the pace. Before long I had settled into the mentality that I had simply outgrown the little engine that could.

I was comfortable, confident, and I felt ready to bump up. So I did.

I found an 04 ZX6R that was in pretty pristine condition and I put the 250 up for sale to cover the cost of my upgrade. The mighty ninja went to a family of folks who taught 4 generations of people to ride. I ran into them several years later and they updated me, letting me know that the bike had become a part of their family and that it had withstood the tests of time and trial. I just imagined my little blue machine sitting in the garage like an old family dog who went to just the right home. It made me smile, but it always made me think about how much more I could have gotten out of the bike.

While I have come a long way in my journey as a rider since the days of the 250, there have been many realizations that have enlightened me. Within weeks of buying my 636 I did my first track day. I hadn't intended it to happen like that, but I just never got around to it when I owned the 250. I had the normal anxiety and as I settled into the first few laps everything felt foreign. The familiarity and the confidence I had gleaned from riding Highway 155 a hundred times had faded into beginner skill and on more than one occasion I found myself thinking, "This would be a lot less intimidating if I still had the 250." I made it through many track days on that ZX6R and I have no regrets, but I had definitely set a bit of a curve for myself and as my passion unfolded, the expenses added up. One day whilst doing a track day at Streets of Willow at Willow Springs International Raceway, I popped over to the Big Track where the 250 class was racing. "God... that would be such a cheap and easy way to branch into racing," I said to my friend as we listened to the pack of hornets slowly bumble down the front straight with ferocious tenacity. He responded with: "Yeah, gas, tires, everything would definitely be cheaper." His response was innocent and honest enough but he was right.

There's no telling how quickly I might have truly grown out of the 250 on the track, but the fact remains that most riders who have gone to the track know that there is an entirely different level of skill that is developed when you make the transition from street to track. We've all known those guys who are hot shit on Mulholland but they get on a track and they are far outpaced by riders on 250s. Body Position, throttle control, braking, all of these things can easily be developed on a 250 with minimal consequences by comparison to a supersport.

At this point in my life, a 250 probably wouldn't suit my needs on the track. I have often considered buying one just for a lazy day and for some calisthenics when I don't feel like putting forth the effort to throw around the 636 or the R6. I don't discount them at all. I look to people who offer insights to newbies saying "You're probably gonna grow out of that bike," and I am not as quick to agree. It all depends on what your goals are. Do you want to do track days? OR do you want to just buy a Harley V-Rod and call it a day. It all depends on how much you want to make the most out of spending the time to maximize your investment and learn the core skills of riding and racing on something forgiving and inexpensive.

You might outgrow it on the street, but you might just find yourself growing into it on the track.

When One Garage Door Closes: Moving On

There have been many days and experiences since the adventures at the Dragon, but the memories linger fresh in my mind.  In the days that followed my inaugural run up the highway, I experienced the privilege of exploring more of the area and much of that will never be conveyed into words in a way that does justice to the firsthand experience. One thing I've always loved about traveling is the experience, the way that a new environment really broadens the horizons of a person's perspective and the way it stays with you; the way the majestic and breathtaking views etch themselves into your memory in a unique fingerprint molded from your own viewpoint.  Some days when I look back on it, I can still feel the cool sticky night air on my skin.  It still brings a smile to my face and a small pang in my heart reminding me of what lives on in my soul of those incredible days. I knew this adventure would be one of a kind and on the following day when I rode up the Cherohala Skyway, I found myself oddly at home and immediately enamored with this stretch of scenic roadway.

One friend and I had decided earlier that morning that we would make a grand loop of an excursion.  We followed US route 29 all the way around until it reunited us with the Skyway.  We made a few unanticipated detours (we won't call it getting lost, though), but managed to find our way back in time for my pilot and I to depart on the next leg of our adventure... this time taking the airplane from the dragon to a little Island off the coast of South Carolina by the name of Hiltonhead Island. 

It was during this leg of the adventure that I would really be introduced to the thrills of flying.  And as we made our way across the rest of the globe in the Ladybird, we encountered more adventure than we expected... then again, that's par for the course for us folks.

Still, there was a humble pause in my heart as we made our way toward the airplane and I took in the last of the experience that would be my visit to North Carolina.  As the sun prepared the make it's final descent, I watched my friend approach the airplane with his green rucksack slung casually over his shoulder, like a gypsy toting his essentials as he moved along in his life journey.  For that week we were exactly that: gypsies making our way across new territory and charting an ongoing course for adventure and experience.