The Atomic Theory of Motorcycles, the whole lock stock and barrel of it all, came to me in a revelation as I leaned against a wooden pier staring at a BMW K1300GT. I was pitched backward, completely trusting my weight to the solid backing of the pier on Newport, Oregon’s waterfront. The Beemer, on the other hand, mocked me from 50 feet away with its near upright stance, teetering way too perpendicular for my liking.

Moments earlier our four-rider troop had parked motorcycles during a photo stop on our 2009 Sport-Touring Shootout. The parking ground was angled, so two bikes pitched at exaggerated leans, while the other two did the opposite, standing near vertical it would seem.

My co-worker’s ride was so ridiculously upright that I nearly shouted as he left it to lean on the kickstand. As he walked away with nonchalance, I scampered off my bike, prepared to blow out knees and back catching a 600-lb motorcycle as it caterwauled into the pavement.

It stayed perfectly still. But I still could not abide the motorcycle’s pitch. So I walked over and moved it to a more acceptable position. This bossy intervention, though rather rude looking back on it now, assured me as I walked over to the pier, where the other riders milled about, stretching legs after a full day of riding.

I did the same, but then noticed my own bike – the BMW. I could have sworn it was fine when kicking down the sidestand moments prior, but clearly now, as I leaned against the pier, my BMW was standing up by sheer miracle. If the faintest breeze blew in off the coast, it would most assuredly fall. There was no doubting its precariousness.

But it didn’t move. The Beemer just stood there as still and ominous as an Easter Island statue. That’s when I recalled the Atomic Theory of Sergeant Pluck.

Sergeant Pluck is a character in one of my favorite books, The Third Policeman by Flan O’Brien. It’s an entertaining read, well written, thoroughly Irish in its style and language and very funny. Set in the early 20th century, the gist of the story is a protagonist who enters a bizarre world filled with equally bizarre characters. Think, Alice and Wonderland, but grownup and a little stranger… Anyway, one of the three policemen in the title, the likable Sergeant Pluck, has a number of interesting ideas. The most alarming to him, however, are the implications of the new Atomic Theory.

“The lock stock and barrel of it all,” as Sergeant Pluck is quite keen of saying in the book, is that “molycules” from two objects that come into continual jarring contact with each other will transfer atoms one to the other. Over prolonged time, the molycules become so jangled up that the essence and spirit of the two objects can become confused.

The Sergeant was most concerned about bicycles, as he noticed the jarring of the seat and man can lead to bikes becoming way too human and, likewise, humans taking on the nature of bicycles. The social ramifications are quite great. Pluck pointed out one case in which a bicycle, more a lecherous man than machine, would often place itself at convenient places for women to ride it on needed errands. There was also a time when a crime was committed but it was deemed necessary to hang the bicycle, rather than the man, as the ratios were so out of whack. Even Pluck’s own grandfather, an avid rider born before the bicycle, suffered the effects of the new Atomic Theory, as when he died he was in truth a horse – had been for many years before his death. It much aggrieved Sergeant Pluck that they did not bury the corpse of the horse in the churchyard, which was more grandfatherly.

To Pluck the important thing about the new Atomic Theory was moderation. In fact, a bit of bicycle in your system was healthy and invigorating, especially the iron and minerals. And, of course, the introduction of the pneumatic tire has helped greatly in reducing the jarring between seat and man. The key is to stay away from the higher ratios, even 20% bike is too much, with 30% bordering on dangerous. Pluck would steal the bicycles of those he determined were getting too much bike, just to be on the safe side.

So, though it’s fictional, Pluck’s Atomic Theory would logically apply to motorcycles. At least that’s the revelation that came to me as I stared at that BMW from the pier.

That damn bike was standing. No question in my mind. If Sergeant Pluck happened to walk by and kick out the sidestand unnoticed, the Beemer would still stand upright on its own power. More disconcerting, however, was my state, perfectly content to lean against that pier. It felt wonderful letting my weight rest against that wooden rail. I could’ve leaned against there a great while, until my fellow riders said it was time to go. At which point I slowly shifted my weight to vertical and duckwalked cautiously back to the bikes.

It’s plain as day if you take the time to notice. Watch any older fellow who’s been riding a couple decades or more. You can see the telltale signs: Hobbling due to unsteady balance at low speeds, a preponderance to lean against walls or handrails…

The lock stock and barrel of it all, I fear I’m well on my way to 20%, maybe even 30% motorcycle.