Sidecars..a source of pure joy

I posted a self-deprecating meme a month back consisting of a montage of 5 photographs. The first, in a shot of me at my motorcycling zenith wearing my Vanson race leathers, I’m proudly displaying my race-prepped Ducati 996. The caption reads ‘I’m committed to Italian sport bikes and that is it.’  The second shot shows me on a BMW GS somewhere in Iran and states ‘I will never own a BMW: They’re for old people.’ Next comes me a astride my 40 year old BMW R100 and the cocky line exhorts ‘I will never own a vintage bike. They’re for geriatrics.’ The final image sees me and my girlfriend in our R100/Sidecar combo getting ready to join the Distinguished Gentlemen’s Ride in London. Of course, the misguided text claims that. ‘As long as I can stand, I will never, ever own a sidecar.’ Obviously my words are quite tasty because I dine on them a lot.  

And you may ask yourself, how did I get here? It all started with a realisation that is founded in the ethos of Two Wheeled Expeditions: For me, sharing great experiences creates a sublime level of happiness. One day, one glorious day, I was doing what I often do on a sunny Tuesday afternoon: riding my old BMW with zero plans or destination through central London. The meandering path synchronises with my wandering mind like therapy as I discover streets, shops, parks and whole neighbourhoods I never knew existed. And then the epiphany: I wanted to share this beautiful experience with my girlfriend, her daughter, our dog Tupac and everyone I knew! I promptly logged onto Amazon and ordered some Doggles.

Fast forward to a small workshop in the beautiful Cotswolds countryside and the century-old home of Watsonian Sidecars. With tools that have been in use since the company’s founding, these craftsmen create beautiful bolt-on cockpits of fibreglass and steel that are the standard of the sidecar world. I opted for the GP Manx, not because of its stunning looks or exceptional build quality (it possesses these in spades), but because it was at hand. Either join the 6 month wait list or ride away with this masterpiece. I didn’t even need my brain. With a swipe of the Visa, I was steaming toward London.

I’d like to throw out a cool Fight Club line here and exhort ‘there is only one rule of sidecarring’, but sadly there are two so it doesn’t work. Rule 1 of sidecarring is never forget the sidecar is there unless you really hate your passenger. You may laugh, but this is very easy to do. Jumping into the cockpit and letting a friend take the handlebars saw me nearly go teeth first into a nearby Toyota bumper in a matter of metres. Rule 2 is less perilous: always factor the ‘sidecar lag’ into your ride plans. Regardless of where you go, you will be photographed, videoed, queried, chatted up and wooed by shoppers, bus drivers, kids, policewomen, members of Parliament, canines and pretty much any living creature you come in contact with. Put on your best Brad Pitt face and roll with your newly found fame because sidecars bring joy.

Now as bikers, I’m sure the burning question on the tip of your tongues is what it’s actually like to ride one. In a nutshell, it’s pretty fucking weird at first. Let’s start with the obvious. Motorcycles turn by leaning and leaning is initiated through counter-steering. It’s funny how my riders don’t know that. At your next pub meet, ask someone which way they pull the handlebar to turn right. Right?  BAAAP! Wrong answer. You pull the left handlebar (and push the right) to turn right. When a sidecar is attached, you do the opposite. Pull the right handlebar toward you to turn right. Hard. The ‘hard’ exclamation cannot be overstated because riding with a sidecar requires a lot of upper body work. Especially at speed, you will be working those arms hard to get the 3-wheeler to obey but think on the bright side: in a matter of months you’ll look like Arnold in his prime.

A final tip. In the UK, sidecars are mounted in the left because, since we drive on the left, this keeps the sidecar, and the passenger you love, out of the path of oncoming traffic. When you turn hard to the right, the sidecar acts like an outrigger. You can turn as hard and fast as you want and that 3^rd wheel will keep you planted. Turn hard left, however, and an empty sidecar will quickly lift off the road surface. This may look cool but the cartoonishness of a bike on its side, the sidecar towering above, may lead to undue embarrassment.

I can honestly say that my old BMW R100 gets used ten times more now that it’s grown its sidecar appendage. My girl beams every time I pick her up at work to save her yet another sweaty journey home in the London Underground. My friends’ kids line up to take turns in the Harry Potter mobile. Even Tupac, our German Shorthaired Pointer, has gotten over his initial trepidation and gleefully holds his head above the windscreen as we ride, his soft, floppy ears waving in the wind like socks on a laundry line.

The lesson I learned from all of this is motorcycles are fun. All motorcycles. Dirtbikes, racebikes, enduros, boxer twins, thumpers, sidecars, all of them. Except trikes. I’ll never, ever own a trike. They’re for old people.

Robb La Velle

Roro La Velle is the founder and Maharaja of Client Experience with Two Wheeled Expeditions. He has ridden around the world twice and laid tracks through over 40 countries on 4 continents. He is also the author of ‘The Places In Between‘, an account of a husband & wife team circumnavigating the world on two wheels