A message from your rear brake

Hello, it’s me – your rear brake, that small, narrow thing. We’re always together, but I still feel neglected. Before we start riding again, would you mind listening to me for a moment? We need to talk. Urgently.

Clearly, there are some things in life that are more superfluous than others. “Serving suggestions” on food packaging, for example. Requests to “place your parking ticket in a visible position behind the windshield.” Where else would you put it? Or the line “Please think of the environment before printing this email.” Completely pointless.

But I’m not useless! I may lead a lonely existence in the rear wheel, but my wheel is fatter than the front one. I may only be clamped by a delicate brake caliper, but I have awesome colleagues with gigantic dimensions. Take a look:

So: Superfluous? Pointless? Come on …

Nevertheless, between us, my sisters in the front wheel are exaggerating, aren’t they? Pizza-sized discs in pairs, four-piston calipers milled from solid metal, screwed radially to the fork dozens of times because of MotoGP, and connected to the brake pumps with steel braided lines from space travel. A size smaller would do the trick – but the ABS software apparently needs something to crunch.

And all that posing: cool air carbon nupsies on the fork feet and sweatbands with racing logos on the expansion reservoir. THAT’s what matters. Then you need retrofitted brake levers anodized in mismatched colors with folding and breaking functions. Before that, none of it is presentable at all.

You can never have enough at the front …

And then, nevertheless of all that stuff, the driving heroes crash on the Stelvio Pass.

Did you know that the pizza plates for a Panigale front wheel alone cost four figures? I, on the other hand, can be had for just under a hundred bucks – pure understatement. No wonder no one is particularly interested in me. I don’t rotate between golden fork tubes, but in a sticky mist of chain grease and the stench of exhaust fumes. I don’t sparkle on the show mile and only trigger emotions when the TÜV inspector complains that I don’t have enough bite.

So how about a little affection? Or perhaps – heaven forbid – some use? That little lever down there on the right isn’t just a useless accessory, but an essential tool for driving dynamics wellness.

A tool
for driving dynamics wellness

What do you mean, “Now you’re exaggerating”? Not at all! Because I am nothing less than the meditative antithesis to the two 320s at the front. They solve every speed problem with force, smash tanks into bellies and love escalation.

Just check out the funny motorcycle cone videos from Kanyarfoto: Without exception, ALL stars call on the Holy 320 when faced with oncoming traffic before throwing themselves into the dust. You yourself experienced it in the first minute (!) of your motorcycling career. You like to forget that the front wheel of your RGV stopped when you braked for the first time.

I would have been there back then …

Think about it: Who, when leaning into a turn, can calmly reduce the speed by a few km/h, which can make the difference between enjoyment and panic, or push you off your desired line? Who wedges itself between the engine and the tires and smooths out any play in the drivetrain? Who makes it possible to stop casually on a hill in the first place, and who is your lifesaver when you need to stop in sharp turns? That would be me, your rear brake.

Without me, you would never have learned THAT!

You always heard me say, “Come on, I’ll help you out of that.” Without me, you would never have survived that crazy Gavia ride in rain, snow, and mud. Without me, you would have regularly complained about the ice sheet behind your parents’ house from October to March. How would you have survived your photo stunt on San Bernardino without me?

And WHAT would you have achieved on your beloved supermotos without me? Exactly – absolutely nothing. You would have had to paint the fine black lines in the hairpin bends of the Stelvio by hand if it hadn’t been for me. Not to mention the antics on your heavy Harley – without me, you wouldn’t be able to climb a decent pass on it.

Well, who's braking here? — Look who’s braking!

And down either.

So, how are we going to get along in 2026? Could you take a look at my brake pads when you get a chance? Maybe tackle the patina on the brake caliper a little? Change the brake fluid on the Tamburini, which is always well warmed up? You should find the time for it – on your electric roadster, that recuperating yuppie, none of that is necessary, so THERE I’m actually superfluous …

I am not
an accessory

To all rear brake refusers: this text is for you! Give it a try, it won’t hurt. Think a little about riding technique and physics, build up some feeling in your right foot, and consciously work with the rear brake. You may then reach a new level of cornering and avoid the next social media discussion about the intellectually revealing explanation of why you “only brake at the front, of course.”