England: I am very distressed about the stories I see in the media about an epidemic of scooter thefts and assaults on the streets of London.
Scooter theft and street violence is causing a change to daily life for the city of London. These attacks have slowed due to winter weather, however I predict that scooter crime could reach epidemic levels come spring and summer. The stumbling Metropolitan Police Commissioner and the Mayor Sadiq Khan have let this problem get out of hand.
My English brothers, you’ve got horse thieves!
In the American West, at the height of the Cowboy era (circa 1873), stealing a man’s horse was punishable by hanging, branding, or the lash. For a victim of theft, being left without a horse in the desert was certain death, as a town could easily be a day’s ride (50 to 100 kilometers) or more. This crime was taken so seriously in the United States that offenders were routinely dealt severe prison sentences. More recently, a woman from Arkansas who stole five horses and equestrian equipment in 2011 will spend 60 years in prison. Ouch!
I have a question for the Metropolitan Police and Mayor Sadiq Khan: why aren’t scooter criminals prosecuted more often and more severely? (Only 1.7% of scooter crimes are prosecuted.) One offender threw acid in the faces of unsuspecting victims. Isn’t throwing acid as serious as leaving a man to wander the desert without a horse? In October, a Moped gang robbed over 100 victims in five days. They got 4 years in prison total (2 week per-victim). Many of the offenders have 20-plus crimes to their name, and one 15-year-old was only jailed after being arrested 80 times. A knife-wielding suspect approached and attacked a Met officer’s motorcycle, disabling it. Met Police Commissioner Cressida Dick & Mayor Khan: Blue lives matter!
“Many of the offenders have 20-plus crimes to their name, and one 15-year-old was only jailed after being arrested 80 times.” – Michael Minay
Commissioner Dick said she was “pretty confident” the force had a “good handle” on the problem. This issue could have a serious impact on national tourism, with hundreds of millions of dollars at stake. I can already see the ad campaign to bring back the tourists: “Come Back to London, it’s Safe Again!” The soaring rate of scooter crime went from 8,000 to 24,000 to 50,000 leapfrogging itself in under 2 years. Summer’s coming; at this rate, will there be 100,000 new victims at the end of 2018, will you be a one of them?
The London Mayor recently called a council of scooter manufactures to scold them on their product’s lax security measures. Mayor Khan, the horse has left the barn! The Met’s solutions: two “pursuit” BMWs without panniers, some remote control stingers (spike strips), and secret “tracking” spray. While the Met prepared to fight these villains, the black clad criminals stole a BMW pursuit motorcycle right from the front of Metropolitan Police Headquarters. I would remind Mayor Khan and Commissioner Dick: security starts at home! They stole your horse!
WHO IS CRAZY ENOUGH TO STEAL A POLICE BIKE?
“We have brought all our tactics and specialists together to use every ethical option to put a stop to the rise of scooter crime,” the commissioner said. I do not know of anyone more motivated then a teen running from the law on a scooter. The pursued take greater and greater chances until they crash or escape. A high-speed chase could result in injury or death for either party, and the public is put at risk. However, the public is already at risk and your officers are demoralized. The Met seems to equate “ethical” with clean. We have moved far beyond clean. When not pursued, the criminals are emboldened to do whatever they want, anytime they want. Scooter criminals know, if I run = I get away.
The Met should change its pursuit policy to “pursue until captured,” and institute a form of the “broken windows” theory used so successfully to clean up New York City.
“You go for a man hard enough and fast enough, he don’t have time to think about how many’s with him; he thinks about himself, and how he might get clear of that wrath that’s about to set down on him.”
Pull over scooter riders at any time and database all encounters. If a scooter is found to be stolen, detain the thief until the investigation is resolved. “Stop & Frisk” will enable your pursuit teams to know who is a daily commuter and who might be up to no good. Call it “proactive policing.” Use your CCTV system in real time to communicate to your pursuit teams who to follow and where “potential criminal suspects” might be.
Do you know what the Met needs? An all-electric motorcycle force.
The fleet will be expensive sure, but worth it compared to declining tourist dollars. The Met can’t be penny wise, pound foolish. At least 10 cells (3 riders in a cell) are all on Zero SR’s. Imagine that.
The 3 police riders stay together, taking down one rider as a unit. If that rider escapes, then let’s give our Zeros backup and send in a LIGHTNING LS218, with 200 horsepower.
Make it the “Mad Max Interceptor” of the Met. Seriously, look at that thing; you don’t even have to paint the motorcycle. I would soil myself it that popped up behind me. Silent and stealthy. No one gets away.
I also believe some community outreach would go a long way too.
Go to schools and show your potential adversaries what they are up against! If the average scooter criminal is between 14-19 years old, tell them, “we take your phone away for a year!”, maybe the threat of losing Snapchat privileges will rankle more than a couple of months in detention playing PlayStation?
Respect is the currency of youth, and right now the Met is flat broke. Throw those Day-Glo yellow jumpers in the trash. Dress like the enemy – they will never see you coming.
Now, let’s see you reach to steal my horse!
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Skills Deficit: We’ve forgotten how to ride!
To add to the already glutinous amount of opinion with regards to the coming perfect storm of motorcycling’s demise, I would like to mention one more possible problem. It is the simple fact that today’s new riders cannot ride!
What I mean to say is they do not have any transferable “skills.” Manufacturers like Honda and Yamaha have recognized this “skills deficit” and are subsequently developing a self-balancing motorcycle, and a crazy three-wheeler, the Niken. When I first saw the Niken, I thought, “Who the hell is that for?”
To quote Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows, the motorcycle industry understands that motorcycles are “dangerous at both ends and crafty in the middle.” Compared to horses, they require a minimum of physical skills; in particular, one needs coordination and a good degree of balance and confidence.
How can the industry make motorcycling more manageable? The industry is trying to solve the problem of coming generations raised on computer games and smart phones instead of riding bicycles.
How could a generation raised playing video games lack the ability to keep all balls juggling at once? They must have the hand/eye and foot coordination to administrate throttle, clutch, brake and shifter, so what is the problem? Like a thunderbolt, I realized it was the act of riding a motorcycle itself.
“Can’t you ride?!” Millennials have no experience!
Those helicopter parents placed their kids in plastic bubbles, never letting them get out there to be a kid. These sheltered children never developed any riding skills whatsoever. This is the generation expected to save the motorcycle industry? We are in real trouble.
Motorcycles are “dangerous at both ends and crafty in the middle.”
Previous generations of kids in America and the world consistently followed the same path: we get a tricycle, then a pedal bike (with training wheels) and we never looked back.
As we got older, next came dirt bikes, then street bikes. A progression of skills learned as children makes us capable of handling most street situations on a motorcycle. This agogi of childhood bicycling taught us balance, lean, acceleration and deceleration. It was a right of childhood. Even the ability to change a flat tire and wrench on our pedal bikes cannot be underestimated, as it led to the shed tinkerers.
Millennials, and now Gen Z, were shortchanged without these essential childhood experiences.
I grew up under a canopy of green with a sea of rich brown earth
Growing up in my neighborhood, kids were everywhere. During our two months off for summer, there was stuff to do (outside) every minute of the day. The boys all had BMX bikes and we rode everywhere. Any summer day we would go to someone’s house and build BMX trails all morning, and ride them after lunch. I grew up under a canopy of green with a sea of rich brown earth to build, reshape, tear down and build again. Designing the layout of our trails, engineering and planning the height of the jumps (how much cubic earth it would take); can anyone say S.T.E.M.? We lived it everyday building BMX trails!
My generation was also fit; this constant travel by bike around town to parks, streams, hills, and abandoned buildings was all adventure, all the time. We rode all times of the year, night and day. We practiced jumps, skids, endos, and wheelies. We rode in sand, dirt, mud, gravel and on wet grass. Years of riding bikes in the streets with our future nemesis (the automobile), we became experienced. Crossing busy roads and predicting at an early age what car drivers would do became second nature.
I rode a 1987 GT Pro Series (TEAM MODEL) everyday of my life until I got my first girlfriend.
“Millennials, and now Gen Z, have been shortchanged without these essential childhood experiences.”
The group of 10 contemporaries I rode with were all skilled riders. Collectively we crashed thousands of times. In the 1980s, kids never wore helmets. Helmets were for American football. I cannot recall any of us ever hitting our heads, not even once! Lucky, or skilled? We were great; we knew how to crash a BMX bike. This instinctive “crash reflex” became natural. You learned it, or you got hurt.
I also know that the skills I learned as a child saved me last summer, as I exited Interstate 95.
Slowing down on the exit ramp, I saw the glint of diesel on the motorcycle line. The turn tightening as I rode the corner, I knew I would cross it as some point! I got off the brakes knowing that one or both wheels would slide as I hit the diesel. I felt the front hit and ever so slightly tuck; then the back hit (now both wheels sliding). I held on without panicking. The wheels immediately regained traction at the same time. I never target fixated or locked up the brakes. The stripe of diesel mercifully ended, and it was over.
How many millennials would have come through this seat-clenching event? A childhood of BMX riding had just saved my butt.
My Generation, X (1965-1985) will be the last traditional motorcyclists with the necessary toolbox of skills that ride honest motorcycles. We should have raised free range children in a manner to mirror our own experiences.
Motorcycling should not need technological trickery to address monumental problems. Mark my words: two-wheel motorcycles will eventually be legislated out of existence as “unsafe.” Congratulations Yamaha and Honda, you are the motorcycle company equivalent of the helicopter parents and contributing to traditional motorcycles’ demise, in an effort to make sure no one gets a boo boo or needs a plaster (band aid).
In trying to keep this next generation safe, you have doomed it for the rest of us. Maybe Honda & Yamaha can give you a participation trophy every time you ride their three-wheeler or self-balancing motorcycle.
Is it 1891? No this is 2018, and if this technological nonsense is the future of motorcycling… I weep for you all.
We are doomed!
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When Projects Creep Out of Control
Is ‘more’ always better?
Back in 2008, after more than a decade working in the motorcycle industry, I finally bought my first brand new bike. Like the kid in the proverbial candy store, I wandering through my local motorcycle dealer with my stomach in knots knowing that one of these shiny, magnificent machines would be mine. And like so many people tilted by emotion, despite years of experience and insider knowledge, or perhaps because of it, I let excitement take over the decision making process. I bought a motorcycle far beyond my needs.
It was not long after taking possession of my Yamaha FZ-1 that I realized my mistake. The bike was technically faultless, the problem lay in that it was not at all what I needed. With a tiny fuel capacity and very firm ride it was a lousy touring rig (especially in Quebec where road surface quality is akin to a bombed out airstrip), but conversely it was too bulky and heavy to flick into corners on curvy A roads. It was bigger, faster, incorporated superior suspension and materials technology than it’s predecessor, the Fazer 1000 I helped develop years earlier, an yet somehow the new package was less motorcycle.
When you ask motorcyclists what they want in a new bike, the answer is always “more”. More power, more space, more features. The only thing they don’t want more of is cost. It makes sense, after all we all want more of a good thing. With motorcycles problems often arise when designers and engineers are tasked with piling on those ever increasing specifications to an existing model. This mission creep can, if not managed carefully by a strong project leader, end with a product so packed with features and high specification that it can do everything, but none of it particularly well.
The 1998 – 2004 Yamaha FZS600 Fazer was a wildly successful motorcycle design. At a time when entry level, middle displacement (500cc to 650cc) street bikes were either extremely basic or used obsolete technology, the Fazer delivered modern handling and performance in a user-friendly package. Featuring the engine and brakes from Yamaha’s YZF600R Thundercat, and a compliant chassis made of steel pipe to keep costs down, the little Fazer sold like mad satisfying a wide array of beginners and experienced riders alike.
With motorcycles the temptation is always to add more performance.
Yamaha introduced a mildly revised version two years later, along with the aforementioned larger, 1000cc version. Honda blatantly copied the Fazer formula of packaging supersport technology into an inexpensive package with the CB600F Hornet. Yamaha saw sales plummet, so along with a dozen other designers and engineers I was brought into a group to create the next, all-beating Fazer.
And that’s when the wheels came off the cart.
A whirlwind tour of European cities took place in which we interviewed hundreds of entry-level 600cc customers. The specification list grew longer and longer each day, as the demands of existing users piled on. More fuel tank range! More wind protection! More cargo carrying capacity! And of course… more power! Always more power.
Back at headquarters, the project leader handed over the design brief. As a very young designer I was confused. The new Fazer would now have an R6 motor. It would feature an all aluminum, Deltabox frame, lightweight R6 rims and a 180 section rear tire. Projector headlights. LEDs. Twin, under seat stainless steel exhausts. The brief read like the spec sheet from a top-of-the-line flagship project, not the replacement for Yamaha Motor Europe’s best selling motorcycle.
This is project creep, and it happens when an organization is beset by fear and acts out of ignorance of the big picture. The reasoning behind this phenomenon seems sound: if your opponent has three guys with knives, you better make sure you have six. It makes sense until you discover that you only have enough food for four, and so field six starved, exhausted guys against three strong and healthy ones. In manufacturing history there are hundreds of examples of this, the most famous of which may be the case of the Ford Edsel. It had more of everything than any of its competitors, and yet was so much less car.
With motorcycles the temptation is always to add more performance. After all, motorcyclists are fundamentally sold on the thrill of speed and aggressive handling. The problem is that too much performance makes most motorcycles into unmanageable, sphincter-clenching torture devices. Among our tribe few are skilled enough to exploit even half of the potential of modern bikes, which makes adding high performance to models destined for the rest of us an academic exercise. Of course our egos won’t allow us to admit it, but inside we are terrified of opening the throttle fully mid-corner. So we don’t, and wobble around on large, expensive bikes that not only don’t satisfy, but fill us with regret because we cannot master the objects of our desire.
At the cruiser end of the spectrum, the height of the chopper era saw mature, fully grown manufacturers launch models that were laden with Edsel-like heapings of features. The Honda Rune was presented as the end-all, be-all of the cruiser genre. According to Honda America’s Ray Blank, they “…wanted to set the bar higher than ever, erecting standards that no one else had yet imagined.”.
The result was a seven foot long, 400 kg, six cylinder monster that boasted 50% more torque than Honda’s then flagship superbike.
It was literally the most cruiser you could buy from any mainstream manufacturer, and yet its’ excess was its failure. At $30,000 (US) it wasn’t more expensive than a range topping Harley-Davidson, but the market balked at its bulk and cornucopia of pointless styling. Honda had failed completely to stop the design at some stage and roll it back, asking the team to refocus on what make people yearn to cruise on a motorcycle: the simple joy of sitting astride a large mechanical powertrain suspended between two chunky tires. The Chopper is, by definition, a bike “chopped” down to its basic, core elements. A little baroque styling and flair is cool, but it is not the main attraction.
As an industry, the motorcycle business is not very good at learning the lesson of project creep. The endless fight to produce the sexiest products in the marketplace inevitably drive an arms race that produces some great innovation but also squeezes out lots of poorly conceived motorcycles. If a bike comes out with a strong styling direction that hits the market like a storm, then simply copying it only with a more extreme execution is not going to work. When a competitor eats your lunch, as the Honda Hornet did when it replicated the original Yamaha Fazer concept in 2003, then just doubling down on everything is not going to win the market back.
How did we end up in a place where an entry-level street bike comes with racing style, upside-down forks and a mouse pad for a seat?
The second generation FZS600 (called the FZ6 in North America) that debuted in 2005 with all those crazy upmarket features did well in Europe for a few years, but alienated a lot of customers who loved the original Fazer’s rugged, approachable simplicity. They flocked to the second generation Suzuki SV650S, which was a better Fazer than the new FZ6 (ironically, the Suzuki’s styling was almost a copy of the updated original Fazer). By 2008, Yamaha introduced the FZ6R, a confusingly named but genuine successor to the formula that was simple, cheap, versatile and easy to use. It quietly dropped the over-spec’ed FZ6 Fazer without a replacement a year later.
In the market battlespace, project creep is easily seen in the most hotly contested areas. The 250cc class ballooned to 300cc because Kawasaki needed to edge out the class leading Honda CBR250. Then KTM launched the RC390, resplendent in its superior specification. The new Honda CBR250RR presented this winter is a very far cry from the CBR250 I tested in 2011. In five short years, the baby Honda sport bike went from being what I called “the missing link”, a motorcycle for everyone that the industry so badly needed, to being a mini CBR1000RR World Superbike contender.
I love the look of the CBR250RR, and if I am completely honest I want one rather badly. But how did we end up in a place where an entry-level street bike comes with racing style, upside-down forks and a mouse pad for a seat? I suspect it has a lot to do with looking ahead instead of behind. I’ve seen this show and I know the ending. In five years time the 250cc class will be dead again, because it will have priced itself out of the marketplace.
Getting excited and dreaming of the ultimate motorcycle is the job, but it is also the duty of manufacturers to deliver products people can actually afford and use. The ultimate anything is, as the word suggests, the last of the line. And winning the battle for the ultimate product is meaningless if you destroy the consumer base as a consequence.