We are Pavlov's dog

"It goes without saying that the desire to accomplish the task with more confidence, to avoid wasting time and labour, and to spare our experimental animals as much as possible, made us strictly observe all the precautions taken by surgeons in respect to their patients." - Ivan Pavlov

A parallel often drawn in my mind as I watch the workshop at Shandoka is between our relationship with mechanical power and the famous Pavlov's dog experiment of the late 19th century. Ivan Pavlov's revolutionary work showed how conditioned responses could be cultivated over time. He trained dogs to associate the sound of a bell with the anticipation of food, which made them salivate when they heard the bell, even when the food was removed from the equation.

This powerful demonstration of conditioning parallels our human journey into mechanophilia, the pure, unwavering love of mechanical things. Over several decades, we've been conditioned to associate the roar of a combustion engine with our own personal command of mechanical power. That association began over a hundred years ago, when we swapped our reliable, grass-eating (solar-powered) equine companions for mechanical horses: vehicles for moving people and stuff that offered more speed and utility but needed more upkeep and a certain liquid fuel to make them go.

The conditioning went on for more than a century, deeply ingraining in us a connection between the rumble of a combustion engine and the raw power at our disposal. It's so fixed in our psyches that the rhythm of an engine can make our hearts dance to its beat. The mere thought of that roar is often enough to bring on a real sense of excitement and anticipation. Much like Pavlov's dogs, some of us humans drool at the sound of a finely tuned engine (myself included).

This link between the thump of an engine and raw power sparked an unprecedented surge of creativity around the mechanical beast known as the piston engine. It has given us an impressive array of motorcycles, each one a unique expression of human ingenuity, style, and desire for speed and power.

Motorcycle rallies are where this overflow of creativity takes physical form. A seasoned mechanic can learn a lot about a builder's skill and attention to detail just by listening to the machine. The engine's sound tells you how good the builder is: whatever the motorcycle looks like, if it sounds bad, its performance is likely to follow suit. Even the machines that don't run usually have a great story to tell.

The builders you meet at a rally are some of the most intellectually curious and creatively inclined folks you'll ever meet. Taking a basic thought, sketching it from the canvas of our minds and crafting it with our hands from bare materials is one of the most distinctly human things we do. Getting it right, all the way to a working machine that can carry us through the world, takes a level of insight, creativity, and technical understanding that few people have in our modern times.

Many electric motorcycle builders resort to mimicry and camouflage to win acceptance from a traditional biker scene they don't fully understand. The team at Shandoka is on a different path. We lean on our technical strengths and embrace the ethos of traditional craftsmanship, while paying homage to the artistry of metalworking, mechanical creativity, and complete design vision. Our goal is to create an indisputably badass electric motorcycle that stands proudly on its own mettle.

We don't want to confine our electric drive technology to a form that was conceived and perfected for the physical demands of a different technology. We want our machines to have their own look and their own integrity, without uprooting the expectations and sensibilities of the existing motorcycle community.

So, as we set out to tame once more the beast we ride, grab your favorite wrenches and strap those gloves on tight. We're in for an unforgettable ride.