I visited the Brantford motorcycle swap meet on Saturday. It's located at the military museum, which also houses a motorcycle museum. I saw this old army truck outside, and for some strange reason, I wanted to get a picture of my motorcycle next to it.Ever since I owned my first motorcycle, a Honda CD175, I have been more interested in the no-frills vehicles than I am in show vehicles. There are several common approaches to owning a vehicle, one is the basic transportation, another is the status symbol or fashion statement, another is a performance vehicle (competition or stunting). I'm sure all have their place, but for me the best thing of all is to go somewhere. Maybe it's because I'm a nomad at heart. That's why I want a basic transportation motorcycle.
In some ways, motorcycles are like no-frill cars. No doors, not roof, no windows, only two wheels. No more than what you really need to go somewhere.
It's not only the type of vehicle, but even prefer no-frills roads. I don't like roads where the scenery is too spectacular. I find it distracting, and worse, it distracts other drivers who might run into me. Some scenery is OK, like mountains and ocean views, for example. But I like roads that actually go somewhere, long roads with one single destination and few branches, where you also find truck traffic and cheap food. Scenic parkway roads, such as the Blue Ridge Parkway in the Appalachian mountains, have too much police surveillance, low speed limits, and no services. And the parkway closes in winter - another sign of a "show" road that has no real use except to let people slowly parade up and down ooohing at the scenery.
I have always thought military vehicles were my kind of no-frills. They are usually as cheap as possible, stone simple, which also makes them less liable to break down. No burglar alarms, no remote keyless entry, no power windows or air conditioning. Just what you absolutely need to do the job, and maybe a shovel for the driver in case you get stuck. That brings up another point - the driver should be part of the solution, not part of the problem. If you have to design a vehicle around a coddled, unskilled, luxury seeking driver, you are going to get an all-frills vehicle.
When you see my motorcycle next to the army truck, you might think it looks like a fancy bike, but it's not, really. Parked beside other motorcycles, it attracts no attention except for the mud flaps bolted to floorboards with hardware store brackets, and the extra foam on the seat. I would never put 40 kg of chrome or extra lights on my bike to make it look better, I'm more likely to take things off to make it lighter, and I already have a box full of unnecessary parts in the basement, that were taken off my Vulcan.
It may sound like I'm judging other people's bikes, but I'm not. I'm a firm believer in "Judge not lest ye be judged", and I am not only tolerant of other types of bikes, I enjoy learning more about them. But I will confess that one of my favourite activities at a motorcycle show is to go around the show bikes with some friends, like we are judges, but make a lot of observations, that may or may not be amusing. All in fun, and of course I also enjoy talking to the owners.
Once upon a time, military vehicles were 'cheap as possible, stone simple.'
ReplyDeleteThe epitome, of course, was the Willys Jeep - so simple that, with no more than a slot screwdriver and adjustable wrench, the entire thing could be taken apart and reassembled in the field.
Its straight-four side valve engine was about as simple as internal combustion technology gets.
The Jeep, of course, evolved after WWII, becoming increasing more complex, until its design limits were reached. My 1981 Jeep CJ-7 was a practical demonstration of the effect of design limits.
The U.S. forces replaced their with the notorious Humvee ... a big, expensive, heavy and complicated piece of gear.
The Canadian Forces initially replaced most of their Jeeps with the German-made Iltis ... cheap and cheerful, but providing little protection for the crew.
And so, the Canadian Forces have migrated to the G-Wagen, joining the ranks of the suburban nouveaux riche who drive these expensive, heavy, complex beasts because they have more money than brains.