What we don’t know can’t hurt us—right?
What we don’t know can’t hurt us, or so the saying goes. Of course, it’s not hard to come up with examples to the contrary; just because we’re unaware of something doesn’t really prevent it from causing harm. I’m not going to resolve this debate here, but rather discuss my ambivalence about some recently acquired knowledge I might have been better off without.
I just learned a brand-new motorcycle I recently purchased might develop a severe mechanical problem experienced by many owners who’ve posted about this on YouTube, Facebook and other online forums. What’s worse, the manufacturer hasn’t acknowledged anything is wrong; there’s been no explanation or recall, and lots of owners have apparently been refused warranty coverage for this issue. Now I’m worried my bike may develop this malady and it won’t show up until my warranty period has expired, or—even if it appears during the covered period—I may be denied with an unrealistic/unreasonable assertion it was somehow my fault or just a matter of “normal wear” falling outside the warranty’s scope. I would be stuck paying for thousands of dollars in repairs, not to mention the loss of my machine while it’s in the shop waiting for parts, which are reportedly often backordered for months. There’s also the frightening possibility of sudden catastrophic engine failure causing loss of control in a corner or intersection, or stranding me far from home. And with no clarity about the actual cause, simply replacing damaged parts may do nothing to prevent a recurrence.
This has been a disturbing discovery. Obviously, I wouldn’t want to face such possibilities on any motorcycle, but this bike has been extraordinarily fun—I’ve already enjoyed it more than any other in my 40-some motorcycle history; I can imagine keeping it for the final decade or so I may still have as an aging rider, which is a first for me. Given the problem may never show up in my particular bike, or at least not until I’ve put 10-15k miles on it, I could have remained blissfully ignorant for quite some time—maybe forever—if I hadn’t stumbled upon these terrible posts. Now I can’t ride with the same pleasure because this dark cloud of doubt, worry and dread hangs over me anytime I’m on the bike (and much of the time I’m off it).
It’s possible that, armed with this knowledge, I can take steps to address the issue, like digging into the motor to check the relevant elements prior to the expiration of my warranty. Maybe I’ll find everything’s fine—for now—or maybe I’ll be granted warranty coverage for the necessary repairs if the damage is apparent by then. But what about the meantime? Is this bike ruined for me as a source of joy? Can it ever be restored in this respect, even if the warranty delivers relief from the first round of related expenses? The manufacturer has recently listed new part numbers for some of the components involved, suggesting they figured out (part of?) what was wrong and corrected it, even if they’re not acknowledging this publicly. Will updated parts give me peace of mind without further explanation and accountability?
I can’t know what impact these possibilities will eventually have on my apprehension and relationship with this bike. I could kick myself for not doing more extensive research before my purchase, but I actually did spend many hours poring over a multitude of reviews by the enthusiast press and independent owners, all of which gave this motorcycle superlative ratings, albeit based on fewer miles than this problem requires to show up. Perhaps those reviewers didn’t keep their samples long enough to encounter any defects, or they haven’t yet posted about such issues—or their motorcycles have been spared for reasons as mysterious as the reasons others have endured grave misfortune. I have no access to such information. Nor is it possible to get a sense of scale. On one hand, I can read sad/angry stories posted by a few hundred owners, which feels like a huge number because the news is so troubling. On the other hand, many tens of thousands of these bikes have been sold. I can’t tell what percentage of the total has had/will have problems, and thereby make some calculation of my chances. Even if I did have those statistics, they wouldn’t predict with any certainty what I can expect with my one member of the mathematical set.
Of course, there’s always some possibility any motorcycle will develop a problem. I’m certain every model ever produced has some contingent with manufacturing flaws, and some design errors needing remediation. These may be a function of poor quality control, engineering oversight, cost cutting or other consequences of human incompetence, carelessness or corruption. It’s also not surprising that corporations and dealerships would evade responsibility and the associated costs, rendering warranties (like health insurance) a dubious source of confidence. Regardless of how righteous my case may be, I realize litigating it may be impractical (e.g., I can’t afford to lawyer up against a multinational manufacturing giant) or futile (truth and justice do not always prevail in the courtroom). I’m not so idealistic to expect to live in some risk-free zone where I’m perfectly protected from mechanical problems in my motorcycles.
However, I do want to be able to maintain a bit of an illusion. I want to believe my odds of having a calamitous breakdown on an expensive, well-maintained, non-abused motorcycle are low enough they’re moot, virtually non-existent. I can’t muster such belief about this bike anymore. This is akin to other experiences wherein a type of “healthy denial” has been ruptured. My chances of contracting disease X may be slim-to-none, but if someone in my close circle of acquaintances gets it, I’ll have to give my own vulnerability more credence. Children who must contend with the death of a loved one or some other disaster lose a measure of “innocence” (perhaps more accurately, developmentally appropriate ignorance), and cannot not know such horrors are truly possible going forward. This awareness can radically alter their perspective on the world and their place in it, as it overwhelms their limited capacity to process and adapt constructively to such pains.
The Ride Inside with Mark Barnes is brought to you by the MOA Foundation. You can join the BMW Motorcycle Owners of America quickly and easily to better take advantage of the Paul B Grant and Clark Luster programs mentioned in this episode.
I certainly don’t mean to equate my worries about a motorcycle’s reliability with those much weightier tragedies; I’m merely noting a similarity in the way awareness of unwelcome realities can degrade our experience. It’s not necessarily better to know more, even when the additional information is undisputedly true. I “know” I’m going to die, but I don’t go through life with this fact vividly in my consciousness. In fact, I typically act like this isn’t even a remote possibility. If I was continuously preoccupied with it, I probably wouldn’t be able to enjoy anything while waiting anxiously or despairingly for the Grim Reaper’s arrival. Indeed, people who have reason to be acutely aware of their mortality must find ways to appreciate their remaining time as precious, or life becomes a tedious or terrifying slog to the grave (ones beliefs about the afterlife can make big differences in this, to be sure). Again, my point is we can acknowledge things intellectually without having their reality sink in; once an issue is no longer merely a theoretical abstraction, we’re forced to adjust. In one sense, nothing has changed—the reality we must contend with is the same as it’s always been. In another sense, facing it may change a great deal in our subjective experience.
Without the internet, my rapture would have continued uninterrupted by other owners’ tales of woe and the implications those carry for my own prospects. I wish I could “un-know” these things and return to my previous blissful ignorance, but I can’t. Now what? As you’d guess, I’ve been searching for evidence plenty of other bikes haven’t developed the same serious problems, hoping to bolster my hope I’ll be among their numbers. I’ve inquired at dealers about the prevalence of this issue in the motorcycles they’ve serviced, and I’ve received stalwart reassurance about the reliability of my motor, but I suspect they wouldn’t necessarily be forthcoming about a problem which could impugn a brand they sell. I’ve also tried to take a step back from the immersive world of lament and vitriolic complaints online. It can be easy to get swept up in what seems like a secret layer of alarming truths beneath the reassuring façade of conventional expectations, with trust in the latter viewed as dangerous naiveté and complacency. Yes, there are reasons to be skeptical of a manufacturer’s party line when it saves them money and counters bad publicity, but there are also reasons to wonder about online outrage which may be amplified by the peculiar tendency of this medium to distill and inflame terror and grievance.
The posts I’ve been reading are definitely a tangled mix of careful efforts to discern what’s really going on with this problem (e.g., is it a result of inadequate lubrication, and if so, is it because of weak oil pressure, poor filtering or blocked passageways, or is it a matter of bad metallurgy/insufficient surface hardening, or is a mechanical component’s design to blame?), and lots of speculation about the conspiratorial maneuverings or widespread ineptitude at the manufacturer or local dealer level. Some people are dedicated to examining the facts and presenting evidence (e.g., extensive documentation of their motor’s condition with photos and measurements, records of actual correspondence with the manufacturer or dealer), while others make all sorts of vehement assertions (positive or negative) without any support beyond the intensity of their emotion. Obviously, this is a prominent and problematic feature of internet communities outside of motorcycling! People take stands based on cherished beliefs, whether idealistic or cynical, and dismiss alternative viewpoints as the result of stupidity or some hidden agenda. It’s exhilarating to possess the special insider knowledge and look down on everyone else.
I suspect all imaginable scenarios are true. Some motors really did fail for this reason, and some for that reason; it doesn’t have to be either/or. There are no doubt cases wherein the owner really was at fault, just like the manufacturer said when denying their warranty claim, and there are undoubtedly other cases wherein the manufacturer or dealer dodged responsibility because they could. One reason the internet amplifies negativity is there’s little incentive for someone who’s happy to chime in. Misery loves company. I don’t mean to imply it shouldn’t; we human beings legitimately need others who can relate to us when we’re distressed. But this also means I’m unlikely to be motivated to spend the time and effort to participate in an online forum when things are going well (either my bike is trouble-free or I’m happy with my warranty’s demonstrated coverage). I may also be turned off by bitter posters ridiculing me as Pollyannish for thinking my motorcycle may not be doomed, despite its lack of symptoms.
Confusion is only avoidable when we lop off portions of complex reality to achieve a contrived simplicity. The fact that virtually everything has more than one (or two or three) sides is an inconvenient truth; it’s tempting to boil things down to a single factor. We must tolerate suspense and ambiguity if we’re to get closer to accuracy, recognizing we may never know the whole truth with precision and certainty. This doesn’t mean all possibilities are equally credible or probable, leaving us no way to orient. We take our best guesses based on what evidence we can gather, but we should hold those guesses loosely, acknowledging our perpetual fallibility. While I’ve lost something with my new awareness, I must be diligent in not throwing out the baby with the bathwater. The pendulum doesn’t have to swing all the way to the opposite extreme; something isn’t more likely to be true just because it’s worse news (remember that when you’re self-diagnosing an illness on WebMD). We often try to preclude disappointment by anticipating the worst-case scenario, but that can cause lots of unnecessary dread. Mark Twain said, “I’ve had a lot of worries in my life, most of which never happened.”
I can live with a tempered, less purely positive set of expectations without forfeiting my appreciation of the genuinely wonderful aspects of my new motorcycle. No need to replace idyllic fantasies with morbid ones; both are imaginary at this point—the latter more than the former, based on my first-hand knowledge so far. Perhaps most importantly, this bike is so good I can reconcile myself with extra monitoring, proactive service and maybe even four-figure engine repair, all of which would still total less than what I typically lose in a bike trade. It’s not right for a manufacturer or dealer to leave me in this position, but I’m in it now and must choose from the available options. I choose to stick it out, eyes open to the risk.
I didn’t know my bike could develop this mechanical problem. I need to keep in mind I still don’t know it will.
Mark Barnes is a clinical psychologist and motojournalist. To read more of his writings, check out his book Why We Ride: A Psychologist Explains the Motorcyclist’s Mind and the Love Affair Between Rider, Bike and Road, currently available in paperback through Amazon and other retailers.
