10,000 Hours

9 Feb

In the book Outliers, author Malcolm Gladwell says that it takes roughly ten thousand hours of practice to achieve mastery in a field.

Data showed a direct statistical relationship between hours of practice and achievement. No shortcuts. No naturals.

How then do we as Bikers rate ourselves when asked the question,  ‘ how long have you been riding?”

Let’s pick David who bought his first bike , a Karizma ZMR 2 years ago and has been using it to commute everyday since purchase. How many hours of ‘practice’ does he have in those 2 years?

Let’s place his daily commute and errands running to max 2 hours a day. In a week that’s 14 hours , a month 56 hours , a year 672 hours and in 2 years 1344 hours. It will take David, about 15 years if his hours of riding stay constant , to consider himself an master motorcycle rider.

I pray this answers the FAQ from a lot of newbie bikers on how long it takes to be an expert rider , and to an extent what it takes to upgrade to a much bigger cc motorcycle.

And maybe the Bikers who consider themselves experts will eat some humble pie.

Now let’s take a commercial bike rider (boda boda) called James, who bought his Bajaj Boxer 150 a year ago and uses it to ferry passengers and goods 6 days a week. James is on the road about 8 hours a day for 6 days a week , that’s 48 hours , 192 hours in a month , 2304 hours a year, it will take him 4 years to say he is a master motorcycle rider.

Of course the real question here is what level of formal training do each of this Bikers have ? Because that is what they are practicing and that is what they will be experts in?

Ride Safe.

Biker log 214567 by Jinx

6 Jan

“🎢 nasadiki nasadiki nina sadiki
Nasadiki nasadiki nina sadiki…
Something something…na Yesu Kristu

So I am heading home, happy to reach my two practise twisties on Miotoni road Karen. One tight left hander into a slower tightening right.

I approach the first corner… 110kph…on the rear brake… Shift down one… Into third gear… Shift down another… into second… three squeezes on the front brake… even balance… I go wide… lean leg window open… I turn…
“lean into the corner Jinx. don’t be a p#”🐱 y. ”
Two thirds into the corner, I feed on the power… Up a gear… Into third… 98kph… Overtake a Toyota crown like it was cruising for hoes in Karen.

Down to second… Gentle rear braking. Go wide, cut in…don’t cross into the oncoming lane… Lean… Lower… Early on the power… Then PAAAAAP!!!
FRIGGING TAXI making a turn at a blind corner.
Front brake… Gentle squeeze… Poop shoots out of my bum hole… Shift down… Rear wheel locks up… I am in a slide… Michelin tyres lost all heat… Bike straightens but still in a slide… Feet firmly on the footpegs… Release rear brake…tyre gets grip… And just when I thought I’ve made it…. PAP!!Β  THE DREADED WHIP!! (where the rear wheel suddenly gets grip and snaps the entire bike)…i press hard on the footpegs… I can feel my rectum grip the saddle for dear life screaming, “I swear I will never destroy a toilet again.”

Now I am off road… Bike stable… I shake my head at the taxi guy….i can’t waste my breath on a fool because at that moment I wanted to show him what a helmet head butt could do to his face. I would shove my riding boots so high up his ass he will be tasting tarmac for a month.
Two sighs of relief.. Squishy pants… Ewww… But as Celine Dion says, “aaaaaaa-a-a am alive. ”

Parks bike… Kisses Kemi in the alternator…kisses my helmet… Kisses my gloves… Kisses my armour… Kisses my shambalala….woi…
Superbikes… Cure for constipation that’s why I am singing…
“🎢 nasadiki nasadiki ninasadikiki
Na wenye Walio jipupulia nakuishi
Ninasadiki nasadiki ninasadiki”


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