“So, see: clutch, front brake, your back brake is down there, and here is where you shift.” He demonstrated with each punctuation, squeezing handles and pointing to various pedals. The bike stood silently, a lime-green beast that looked as if it had chewed and spit out riders far more experienced than I. Nodding, the giant helmet forced my head to swing a comically wide arc. “Do you want to try and start it?” he asked. “Okay,” I said. I was along for the ride, an empty shell. I would do whatever he asked. “It’s not just a push start, you have to kick-start it, here,” he said, sliding out the…