Orange, Black & Blue: Atilt at KTM Canada's Grand Opening

By Paul Fenn

Contributing Editor

It was six hours of non-stop back-and-forth stories between ESR's Social Media Lead, Sophia (known as @frencholive in these parts) and I. We were fleeing Toronto in my car, loaded down with street and motocross gear, on our way to attend the grand opening of KTM’s brand new HQ in Chambly, Quebec.

We arrived close to midnight Wednesday, checked into our hotel, had a couple of cocktails, then rested up for the festivities.

Next morning's ceremonies were to start with a bicycle ride, which we missed, having brought no bicycles. We had a cursory look around the back end of the sleek new building, which we’d soon learn is far more than a mere satellite office.

Soon we, the press, a small, collegial group, mounted various bikes, me on a Husky 701 Enduro (which I loved and hope to review here soon), and headed to Franklin’s offroading park, 1.5hrs away.

Franklin’s is a professional-grade motocross racing track. It’s huge. As we readied ourselves to ride it, various heavy machines were at work grooming gigantic jumps, berms, woops, etc. And professional-grade woops, I would soon learn, are not for the faint of talent.

I was shown to a KTM 350 EXF, a pure race dirtbike, and informed that it was a nice compromise between little and big. I nodded and drooled.

One of the kindly KTM reps asked, “Have you ever actually ridden on track?”

“Yes,” I answered. “Once. This one. At the Husky Ice Rip last February. But it was frozen and deep in snow.”

I’d gone quite slowly at the time and had somehow not hurt myself.

“Well, be careful," she said. "Seriously.” I believe she truly meant it.

I headed out onto the track in my motocross getup, determined to take it easy, get to know the track and the bike. Both proved quite accommodating initially, and as I grew confident, I began to enjoy little soupçons of air off various jumps and things. Meanwhile, teenage members of the KTM racing team were grabbing 90ft swathes of air off the very same lumps of formed earth. I kept looking back, worried I’d get in their way and be slammed from behind. Turned out it was only me I had to watch out for.

On the third lap, getting fatigued from arm-pump, but also, I believed, getting the hang of things, I approached the intimidating serpentine run of woops, not all that quickly at all. My equilibrium came slightly unstuck while I zipped up the first one. As I landed in the gap between it and the second one, I whiskey-throttled somewhat and began to feel the bike getting ahead of me. I struggled to re-tame that throttle, but it wasn’t interested in a re-taming, and sent me over the top far too fast for my liking. As we slammed into the third hump, now a fully ripened disaster in motion, I involuntarily gave the throttle a good 40oz of whiskey.

The 350 shot off the top of the bump into thin air, leaving me momentarily suspended in the firmament – just long enough to mutter, “Please, let this not hurt much.”

I came down good and hard on my right side, the bike landing two humps ahead, now pointing right back at me, revving menacingly. My wish was not remotely to be granted. Generous helpings of deep, bony, sharp, stabbing pain shot up the right side of my ilium, the rear end of the big hip-bone flange.

I was not winded, nor had I hurt any other part of me that I could detect. I didn’t seem to be bleeding. After a time, I got to my knees, so the racers could see me and not run me over. I'd reached a solid 7/10 on my personal all-time pain scale, and it wasn't done rising.

Had anyone even seen me go down? The track was so vast and unpopulated that I doubted it.

Along came a KTM-shirt-wearing young lad, who asked if I was OK. I lied. He ran to the bike, started it up and rode off.

Getting onto my feet, I took a step. Nothing seemed all that fractured. I began to walk, slowly, as though window shopping, back to the parking lot, where the KTM trailer and everyone convened.

I sat down on a picnic bench, various KTM and Husky people checking on me. I didn’t want to make a fuss, so I gulped back the pain like the man I’ve always wished I could be. As well, I didn’t want to cut into Sophia’s fun. She was riding the track on her first-ever dirtbike, and not falling at all. Riding around, instead of over, the many dangers, like an intelligent person.

There was no comfortable position – except, of course, back on another motorcycle. So I rode a 1090 Adventure back to HQ, from where Sophia drove us to the hotel, and where I took two Oxycodone (I always keep them on hand for such instances).

With me now somewhat functional, we made it on time for the starting ceremonies. John Hinz, President of KTM North America, made a brief speech, as did the mayor of Chambly and one or two others, and then the ribbon was cut.

We took a tour of KTM and Husqvarna’s new multi-functional space. Through the showroom, ultra-swank technician training and racing team workshops, admin offices, boardroom, press bike workshop and finally out back.

There, a DJ and talented caterers made it a party, as did one of the KTM racing team’s big tractor-trailer rigs. I tilted beer. The pain grew manageable, yet stayed reliably by my side. The music was infectious. I did not dance.

At dark came burnout time. Tires died, pipes glowed red, and a wet clutch or two suffered wounds worse than mine... all in service of opening night at the new KTM Canada HQ.

Nothing’s broken. I am mending. It was worth every jolt of pain to see this impassioned, focused motorcycle company set much deeper roots in our great country. And that’s not all that easy – for our ground is hard.

Many thanks to KTM Canada for inviting Sophia and I to the grand opening and covering our accommodations, and providing some of these photos. Also thanks to Patrick Beaudry Photography for the shots of Sophia & I.

Read more of Paul Fenn here.