The Fun-to-Risk Ratio. Why I chose a tiny motorcycle

Why, at 51, I chose a tiny motorcycle to get back on track.

By Carles Carrera · September 2026

About a year and a half ago, I started thinking seriously about going back to motorcycle trackdays.

I was 49. That changes the equation.

I still love speed. I still love the concentration, physical effort, adrenaline and slight fear that come with riding a motorcycle properly hard. Few things clear my head so completely.

On a motorcycle, there is very little room to think about work, problems or tomorrow. You have to be there.

It makes me feel alive.

But I no longer want to risk six months of my life recovering from an injury just to get that feeling. That became the problem I was trying to solve.

Modern motorcycles are almost too good

Modern motorcycles are extraordinary. Electronics, tyres, brakes and chassis allow ordinary riders to go ridiculously fast while feeling remarkably comfortable.

That is both wonderful and slightly terrifying.

Motorcycles have become easier to ride very fast. Physics hasn’t.

A mistake at 220 km/h remains a mistake at 220 km/h.

I have too many other things I enjoy doing to ignore that. I ride bicycles. I ride off-road motorcycles. I train, travel and work. I want to keep doing all of those things for a long time.

I don’t want a trackday to take the rest of them away from me.

The BeOn 250

At one point, I tested a BeOn 250.

Awesome motorcycle. A proper race bike, with a serious chassis, serious performance and serious intentions.

And I quickly realised it was more race bike than I wanted.

The entire motorcycle was designed for a level of seriousness I’m not looking for. I don’t want to become a motorcycle racer at 51.

I want to ride.

Then I found the CRF150

At some point, I honestly don’t remember whether it was Instagram, YouTube or somewhere else, I came across the Honda CRF150 minimotard.

It immediately made sense to me.

I’ve always loved Hondas. I already own a CRF300. I trust the engineering, reliability matters to me, resale value matters, and there is probably some irrational Honda affection involved too.

I’m fine with that.

The bike is a CRF150R transformed by RedMoto into a tiny minimotard on 12-inch wheels. And it is expensive.

Very expensive for a 150cc motorcycle.

But eventually I realised that cubic centimetres were the wrong way to think about it.

I wasn’t buying displacement. I was buying access to a feeling.

A small kart track still gives me braking, cornering, grip, body position, mistakes, physical effort, concentration and adrenaline.

The attraction is getting all of that at much lower speeds. That doesn’t eliminate the possibility of a serious injury, but it is a trade-off I’m more comfortable making.

A different performance metric

For most of my life, motorcycle performance was easy to understand. More power was better. Better brakes were better. Faster was better.

Now I’m becoming interested in another metric:Fun / RiskI want something physical enough to keep me fit, technical enough to keep me learning and demanding enough to force complete concentration.

It still has to give me that feeling motorcycles have always given me. But the risk has to make sense in the context of the rest of my life.

That is the appeal of the CRF150.

The Tuesday test

There is another reason I increasingly like this idea.

I don’t want track riding to become another enormous project requiring a complete weekend, complicated logistics and months of planning.

My ideal version is almost the opposite.

Business is quiet on a Tuesday?

Load the bike. Go to the kart track. Ride for a few hours.

Come home physically tired, mentally fresh and happy. Then return to normal life.

That possibility may ultimately be more valuable to me than owning a much more impressive motorcycle that I ride six times a year.

Keeping something young

Keeping my body young matters. Keeping my mind young may matter even more.

Learning something new. Feeling a little fear. Making mistakes and improving. Laughing. Getting physically exhausted. Going home wanting to do it again.

I’m not trying to remove risk from my life. I’m trying to get better at choosing the risks that are worth taking.

Maybe that is what changes as you get older.

You don’t necessarily want less intensity.

You just become more interested in the ratio.

And right now, a tiny 150cc Honda looks like an unusually good deal.