We buy stuff for our motorcycles because we want to make the motorcycle better, right? Well, at oncycles, we think that's a very interesting assertion, because while it is the most often cited reason for buying custom and aftermarket products, it also turns out to be the least truthful. Does this make such motorcycle customizers a bunch of liars? Not really. It makes us pragmatic.
Most of the time, statements about improvements in handling, performance, and especially safety, are really made for S/O or S/J purposes, or both (S/O = significant other, S/J= self-justification).
The fact is, unless a rider is a bonafide and competitive racer, he or she is not going to even remotely approach the capabilities of a modern, stock, factory box standard performance motorcycle, or even the performance capabilities of the model he or she did not buy, because it wasn't big, fast, or higher-performance enough. (I mean, really, we all know that for the average street rider, the best performance dollars spent are on riding schools and track days, and the best performance bang for the buck is going on a diet). So when a non-racer says he or she wants to improve handling, what he or she is really saying is that it makes more sense to him or her to spend some money on hardware than on riding school. But even that's a ruse.
The real point is that he or she wants to make the bike different, cooler, hotter looking, more distinctive, and/or more exclusive. How do I know this? I do it all the time!
Look, putting carbon fiber wheels on an MV Agusta F4SPR will make it accelerate, stop, and turn in better, though it already does all of that stuff better than just about any bike on the planet. So, I elected to put carbon fiber wheels on it. I did that, because those nasty, gorgeous, stunning, almost iridescent black carbon rims on a the all-black Agusta damn near make you faint to look at it. And I want to make people faint when they look at my bike.
Similarly, I put an amazing exhaust on my Harley Night Rod Special. I did that because it would lighten the bike by about 15 pounds, improve horsepower and handling, increase the lean angle, and improve aerodynamics. That upgrade gained me about 2 horsepower and 20 decibels, I think. The bike went from weighing 676 lbs to 661 (it lost the 15 lbs I've not been able to lose), and it totally opened up the look of the rear of the bike, which in turn proved to me that the stock shock was kind of ugly, which convinced me that the rear suspension was woefully inadequate, if not dangerous, and needed to be improved immediately. That resulted in the acquisition of a semi-custom set of very tasty shocks from one of the premier shock builders in the world. Of course, I did all that because I wanted the rear of the bike (I'm not too concerned about the front) to be on a performance level with a GP bike.
Mission accomplished. Come to think of it, the rear of the bike is actually on a performance level of two GP bikes, if one goes by weight! The reason I didn't worry about improving the front is because the best performance improvements to forks (which go inside the forks, where no one can see them) don't accomplish very much.
Anyway, as you might imagine, I'm really very happy with the whole project. I have to admit I notice the decibels increase more than the 2 horsepower I gained (so does everyone else, by the way), though so far I haven't had a chance to flog the bike on a track or otherwise challenge the suspension. But I know that suspension is doing it's job back there way better than the stock shocks did. It has to be. I read the brochure.
A few years ago, I did some very significant upgrades to a Ducati 998R, including the carbon wheels like on the Agusta, and even more importantly, a carbon fiber front fender and an open clutch cover. Now that fender saved me nearly 6 ounces in weight, and that clutch cover enabled the clutch to breathe and cleanse itself of carbon dust, which made me feel very good about myself. I also noticed that the clutch cover makes the dry clutch sound a good 10 decibels louder and much clearer. This has the effect of penetrating auto glass much more efficiently, as evidenced by people in cars quizzically cocking their heads sideways, kind of like a dog might do, in curious wonderment as to if and when the bike is going to cease to function or explode. I suppose I like causing wonderment, so the clutch cover has proven an excellent investment. I have to admit that the fender hasn't proven itself to be much of anything, but I did get it on sale.
Honestly, though, sometimes, we all should just get down with our motives and do things to be artful or proper, forgetting about performance and safety. In this regard, probably one of the most important exercises one can undertake is the reversal of evolution. You take a modern, factory fresh motorcycle, and do everything that is good and morally right to return it to its ancestral form. We did this, once.
It started with a Triumph Thruxton. We began with a set of antique-looking, period-correct (the right period, that is, not the present period) polished aluminum seat cowl. It really was genuine, and made to reflect the sunlight, as well as the true work and craftsmanship of an English metal smith following the typical and traditional imbibing of a pint or two, or more. Once we put it on the bike, we noticed how all the rest of the stock parts had begun to look horridly refined and way too symmetrical.
So we put on all the additional period correct stuff we could find, including aluminum fenders, a number plate, some covers to parts the bike didn't have any more, and it did change things markedly. The bike became very much more bumpy and hand-made looking. By the way, this kind of project is a lot easier than others, because typically, aftermarket body parts don't fit 100% right. On an evolutionary reversal project, you can sometimes just bend ill-fitting parts as necessary, which coincidentally improves the result even more.
The big moment came when we rolled the Thruxton outside, and the sun hit it gloriously, we were quite literally blinded by what we'd created. We later found that there was physics to all this, as the solar rays magnified by the number plated melted the seat of a bike parked next to it. For a long time, none of us knew what to say.
Inter-alia, I think it is important to observe that most of the reward is in the doing, not the done. I know this because I have acquired bikes pre-doing, and after-done. The after-done acquisitions just strangely seem to sit there like a hot double cheeseburger with a bite out of it. I mean it's appetizing and all, except it kind of has the specter about it of cooties, or something not good enough for the cook to eat himself. If you have a sense of this, you'll probably prefer being the cook.
Anyway, I'm spilling my guts and offering all this as a kind of entreaty to fellowship in the pursuit of motorcycle improvements. I mean, you're not alone, and in the wee hours of the morning, as you lay in bed, a little dizzy with the scent of WD-40 or perhaps gasoline, you should know that you're ok. You are justified in your pursuits, and you are destined for success, and possibly even wealth and fame. And above all that, you're a good soul and a fine human being. I know this, because I hear myself say it all the time.
