If you're a motorcyclist, you've probably been thinking about Vancouver Canuck defenceman Luc Bourdon.
The circumstances of his death in New Brunswick last month should be a wake-up call for anyone who rides a motorcycle.
I have been in almost exactly the same situation more than once myself, and it's only through sheer stupid luck and favourable circumstances that I'm still around to talk about it. Not only have I done the same thing as Bourdon, but I have witnessed it several times, with predicable results.
Once, during a cross-country ride, the rider in front of me — inexperienced, by the way — went off the road and smacked into a garage. He was aboard a BMW 1150 RS. Another time, in the same scenario as the Bourdon accident, the rider grazed the side of a pickup truck. In both cases, they were shaken up and a little bruised, but eventually rode away.
From what we can gather, Bourdon came into a right-hand sweeper turn too hot and simply ran out of road.
More often than not in this type of situation, you can find an escape route of some kind, but this time, his luck ran out and he collided with an eighteen-wheeler. Given the speed at which he was travelling, he didn't have a chance.
Extremely windy weather didn't help things and may have been a contributing factor in the accident.
But what struck me the most about this whole sad affair was the kind of bike Bourdon was riding. With only a few weeks of experience, he was mounted on one of the fastest and most powerful production motorcycles on the road: a Suzuki GSX-R 1000.
This bike has a reputed 170 horsepower on tap and weighs a mere 172 kilograms. It is nothing less than a racing motorcycle, with a top speed approaching 300 km/h.
It will reach 200 km/h in second gear, and can lift the front wheel with a twist of the throttle. It is one of the favoured rides for the no-holds-barred Isle of Man TT race, and has explosive power.
Here's something to think about. According to the U.S.-based Insurance Institute for Highway Safety, the fatality rate for this type of motorcycle is four times that of a cruiser or tourer.
The Gixxer 1000 is a superbly engineered machine, no question, but it is also completely out of place on the street and just too much for most riders. There, I've said it.
I think manufacturers have to take a step back and rethink what they're doing here.
As it sits now, anyone with 15-grand can just walk into an Ontario or B.C. dealership and ride off on a machine that will go from a standing start to freeway speed in three seconds or less. No training program, no graduated licensing. For most testosterone-addled young males, this is a recipe for disaster.
"Maybe it's time to start looking at various licensing models around the world," offers Brian Lowes, executive director of the British Columbia Safety Council. "Something like what they have in Japan, where the licensing is proportionate to the performance of the bike you're riding."
In other words, a "tiered" system, where you don't get to climb aboard a potentially lethal powerhouse like the Gixxer 1000 until you've demonstrated that you are capable of comprehending and mastering its performance.
"The training offered by various safety councils — including ours — is simply not designed to prepare riders for high-performance bikes," Lowes continues.
"I understand that Luc Bourdon may have been blown sideways by a strong gust of wind at the time. If you're inexperienced, you're definitely not prepared for that.
"And even the simple act of counter-steering through a turn is difficult to master for novice riders."
Lowes admits that it's hard to find numbers that connect riding instruction to fewer mishaps. But when Quebec discontinued its mandatory riding instruction for riders in 1997, motorcycle fatalities rose by almost 50 per cent the next year and continued to rise — albeit not as dramatically — until the province's mandatory training program was reintroduced in 2000.
In Canada, Quebec and Manitoba are the only provinces that require riders to take a training course. If you ride a motorcycle in Ontario, you know how difficult it can be to get insurance for it; rider training is "encouraged" through licensing and insurance incentives, but it isn't mandatory.
Perhaps it should be. Porsche offers its customers a voluntary driver instruction course in the form of the Porsche Driving Experience; why can't bike-makers like Honda, Suzuki and so on do the same?
And I'm not talking about a well-intentioned, but lightweight, safety council riding program. There should be seasoned racers on hand, with track time and high-speed instruction. After all, new pilots can't climb into an F-18, and novice drivers aren't allowed to pilot Formula One cars, which, incidentally, have a comparable level of performance to the GSX-R 1000.
"Maybe it's time to put the onus on industry to do something," says Lowes. "Maybe it's time for consumers to have an expectation of moral responsibility."
As for me, I plan on taking an advanced rider training program in the near future. What happened to Luc Bourdon just hit too close to home.
