Right wing blogger, Joe Soucheray, has decided to join the ranks of the four-wheeled and disabled. He was the epitome of the late-life-biker when he bought his first motorcycle and has been some sort of totem for that crowd ever since. As he said, "I didn't have anything in my experience that would have protected me from that. I didn't have anything in my bag of tricks that could have saved me from an oncoming vehicle not seeing me and making a left turn in front of me." Obviously, there are lots of things every experienced rider uses for evaluating and planning for those regular occurances. Joe just didn't have either the experience, judgement, or skills to be a regular motorcyclist and, finally, he realized that being an occasional, recreational garage-candy owner is fuckin' dangerous.
For Joe, motorcycling was always about propping up his aging self-image. A motorcycle was a tool to make himself feel cool. He could wallow in "the potato-potato-potato thwap of a Harley, or the silky smooth revs of a Japanese bike, or the Spitfire flying across the English Channel vibe of a British ride. I rode to ride, not to get anywhere quickly. I didn't need the bike for my daily commute and never used a bike to commute." If we kept statistics on that kind of rider, I'm certain they would be grossly overrepresented in crash data.
Good move, Joe. Now, keep your cell phone in your pocket and try to concentrate on driving your car without killing the rest of us.
Showing posts with label fantasy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fantasy. Show all posts
Jul 24, 2013
Aug 31, 2012
Motorcycles and Religion
All Rights Reserved © 2009 Thomas W. Day
The statement inspired me to look up the definition of the word "religion." My Webster’s says the word means “1) the service and worship of God or the supernatural, 2) commitment or devotion to religious faith or observance . . . 3) a personal set or institutionalized system of religious attitudes, beliefs, and practices, . . and 4) (my favorite although it’s “obsolete”) scrupulous conformity, or 5) a cause, principle, or system of beliefs held to with ardor and faith."
I don't get the religious connection and I'm not convinced that sane people would be religious about motorcycling. Of course, I'm not convinced that sane people are religious, by the above definition, about anything. "Scrupulous conformity" seems like a bad quality, don’t you think? Of course, it would be cherry-picking to point out that those “rebels” who dress in the same shade of black, ride the same bike brand decorated with predictable accessories, and parade in miles long trains of carbon-copy motorcycles are the poster boys and girls for “scrupulous conformity," I’m ashamed that you even thought about going there.
If you take the rational approach to motorcycling, form follows function and you don't have to be religious about the activity/sport/whateverthehellitis. Either your bike serves a function or it doesn't. If it doesn't, I guess you are religious. Personally, the only time I would willingly “share my joy with others” is when I am joyfully paying my bills. I would particularly like to share my medical insurance, mortgage, and utility bill-joy with any number of folks.
Today, I suspect quite a few motorcycles are aspects of religious activity. Those long “charity” parades are, apparently, examples of folks sharing the joy of loud noises and traffic congestion with a much larger portion of the population who would like to see that joy shared in someone else’s town. Ah, religion. Do any two people see the same heaven?
More than forty years ago, riding a dirt bike was a fairly practical activity, with no religious overtones. In Kansas, Texas, and Nebraska (in that order), I could ride my dirt bikes to work, across country (on or off road), and around town if I just used a little discretion regarding local laws and public opinion. I could, for instance, ride from central Nebraska to Valentine or Sidney or Red Cloud without spending more than a few miles on pavement (usually hunting a filling station) and with barely a consideration toward being fully street legal. I had lights, but no turn signals or horn or battery, but I was legally registered with plates. A few years earlier, I rode a Texas cross-country that started north of Amarillo and chased the Canadian River to just short of the New Mexico boarder, hobbling home more than 100 miles with only first through third gear still spinning on a Kawasaki Big Horn that only had a headlight and no license plate or registration. I had a couple of conversations with police that mostly involved questions regarding my own shredded appearance. Mostly, they wanted to know if I needed a doctor. Turned out, I’d probably suffered the first of my three or four clavicle breaks, but I didn’t know it until fifteen years later, the next time I broke that bone.
A friend, who grew up in west Texas in the 1920s, raced his brothers from Hereford to Amarillo, without ever seeing a road or anything resembling a town until they arrived at their favorite Amarillo bar and grill. They’d taken seriously the Indian “Scout” concept and used their bikes as quarter horses had been used fifty years earlier. This was long before commercial farming, city-sized cattle feedlots, and the Interstate came along to ruin a good thing.
Today, owning a dirt bike is a hard-to-explain, harder-to-justify consumptive hobby. You can’t ride the bike anywhere practical and you have to ferry your bike on or behind a cage to use it. The folks who still ride off-road are downright religious in their defense of the hobby, but it’s just a recreational vehicle and the “rights” of dirt bikers have pretty much eroded into infinitely small moments of geezers’ memories and are segregated onto narrow paths on small plots of public or private land. Even snowmobiles receive more practical transportation consideration than do dirt bikes.
A lot of street-legal bikes suffer the indignity we describe as “garage candy.” Fluffy, pointless design “art,” obsolete drive-train characteristics, and lots of farm-implement noise usually accompanies these toys and their owners do their best to irritate as many non-motorcyclists (the other 99.99. . .% of the public) so that they can drive motorcycling, in general, off of the roads and into transportation history.
Some folks pray to the highly polished, totally tricked out, road-race bikes that are occasionally used on public streets. If worshiping “false idols” is a sin, these boys and girls are serious sinners. They must be kneeling, scrubbing the oxides from their frames, all winter long and most summer weekdays to get this kind of shine out of a naturally dull metal like aluminum.
I probably don’t get it because I’m not inclined
that way. Beyond writing about riding and bike owning, I don’t do anything in
the service of motorcycling. Being on two wheels is my favorite means of
transportation, but transportation is mostly what my bike is to me. If I have to
travel between point A and point B, I’d rather do it on my motorcycle. My second
choice would be public transportation. My last choice would be in a car. If I’m
not going to be able to enjoy the trip, I’d rather not have to think about it at
all. But I’m not religious about it.
May 29, 2010
Loud Pipes Are Powerful Fun
All Rights Reserved © 2009 Thomas W. Day
People who worry about the future of motorcycling are particularly concerned that the statement being made by a blasting motorcycle exhaust is going to be the death of the industry and the activity on public roads. Proponents of this noise pollution like to claim that "loud pipes save lives," but the evidence for that claim is weak to non-existent. Obviously, if it's true for motorcycles it should be true for small cars, medium sized-cars, buses, and every other highway user and, if one motor vehicle gets to claim that "safe ground," everybody will want a piece of the action. The trend is going the other way. Most industrialized societies have had more than enough of noise pollution and the public is not going to take much more of it. Noisy motorcyclists may claim discrimination, but it's easy to argue that, outside of emergency vehicles, motorcycles are consistently the loudest vehicles on the highway and the least useful.
Anyone familiar with manufacturing and quality systems knows that you don't go after all of your problems at once. Even the federal government doesn't have unlimited resources. One tactic is to use the Pareto Effect, which states "80% of the effects come from 20% of the causes." When it comes to peak traffic noise, improperly and illegally muffled motorcycles top the 20% list. We can whine about being picked on, but logic would dictate we get hammered first. Since evidence points out the fallacy in the connection between loud pipes and safety, the only reason left for making that kind of noise is recreational.
If safety isn't a useful reason to be noisy, why are so many motorcyclists so damn loud? I think the most likely reason is, "Loud pipes are power." Jimmy Page once argued that electric guitar was the coolest musical instrument because "with a flick of a pick, you can drive 100,000 fans deaf." That's power. Similarly, with the twist of a wrist an untalented, uninteresting working class man or woman can nearly deafen everyone within a few dozen yards. At the least, you can irritate people for a mile in every direction of your exhaust. For people who are powerless in their everyday lives, this kind of clout isn't something to sneeze at.
Loud pipes are a statement of freedom. Again, flaunting the law, good manners, and the opinions of people who otherwise might be able to control your life, a noisy motorcycle is a way to "stick it to the man," even if "the man" is your neighbors, your community, and the rest of society. Loud pipes are a giant middle finger held high above the din of a boring life. It's hard to argue someone out of their "right" to make that kind of statement. Hard, but not impossible. When the statement is made so broadly, hitting the people you want to offend and everyone else, it's not hard to imagine a rapid succession of legal events that could shut down a lot more than just loud motorcycles.
A while back, a trio of Canadian goofballs were fined $16,000 for filming themselves shooting ducks from their car. The Canuck boneheads posted a video of themselves on YouTube "laughing and firing at least 42 rounds from a high-powered rifle into a large pond filled with ducks and grebes." One of the three compounded the stupidity by saying. "We thought we were just having fun — really immature, stupid fun, you know?"
Same story, different device. Blasting the highway with omnidirectional, illegal, unnecessary noise is "really immature, stupid fun." I know. Tolerance for immature, stupid fun is vanishing in our overcrowded world. When that noise produces absolutely no value for anyone, even the dumbest biker ought to know how this is going to work out. One of the goofy duck-blasting Canucks apologized by saying, "“We should have known better but we didn’t, and for that I am sorry.” All motorcyclists are going to be apologizing for the actions of a few who didn't know better and aren't bright enough to quit their destructive behavior. Like ignorance, stupidity is a poor legal defense.
People who worry about the future of motorcycling are particularly concerned that the statement being made by a blasting motorcycle exhaust is going to be the death of the industry and the activity on public roads. Proponents of this noise pollution like to claim that "loud pipes save lives," but the evidence for that claim is weak to non-existent. Obviously, if it's true for motorcycles it should be true for small cars, medium sized-cars, buses, and every other highway user and, if one motor vehicle gets to claim that "safe ground," everybody will want a piece of the action. The trend is going the other way. Most industrialized societies have had more than enough of noise pollution and the public is not going to take much more of it. Noisy motorcyclists may claim discrimination, but it's easy to argue that, outside of emergency vehicles, motorcycles are consistently the loudest vehicles on the highway and the least useful.
Anyone familiar with manufacturing and quality systems knows that you don't go after all of your problems at once. Even the federal government doesn't have unlimited resources. One tactic is to use the Pareto Effect, which states "80% of the effects come from 20% of the causes." When it comes to peak traffic noise, improperly and illegally muffled motorcycles top the 20% list. We can whine about being picked on, but logic would dictate we get hammered first. Since evidence points out the fallacy in the connection between loud pipes and safety, the only reason left for making that kind of noise is recreational.
If safety isn't a useful reason to be noisy, why are so many motorcyclists so damn loud? I think the most likely reason is, "Loud pipes are power." Jimmy Page once argued that electric guitar was the coolest musical instrument because "with a flick of a pick, you can drive 100,000 fans deaf." That's power. Similarly, with the twist of a wrist an untalented, uninteresting working class man or woman can nearly deafen everyone within a few dozen yards. At the least, you can irritate people for a mile in every direction of your exhaust. For people who are powerless in their everyday lives, this kind of clout isn't something to sneeze at.
Loud pipes are a statement of freedom. Again, flaunting the law, good manners, and the opinions of people who otherwise might be able to control your life, a noisy motorcycle is a way to "stick it to the man," even if "the man" is your neighbors, your community, and the rest of society. Loud pipes are a giant middle finger held high above the din of a boring life. It's hard to argue someone out of their "right" to make that kind of statement. Hard, but not impossible. When the statement is made so broadly, hitting the people you want to offend and everyone else, it's not hard to imagine a rapid succession of legal events that could shut down a lot more than just loud motorcycles.
A while back, a trio of Canadian goofballs were fined $16,000 for filming themselves shooting ducks from their car. The Canuck boneheads posted a video of themselves on YouTube "laughing and firing at least 42 rounds from a high-powered rifle into a large pond filled with ducks and grebes." One of the three compounded the stupidity by saying. "We thought we were just having fun — really immature, stupid fun, you know?"
Same story, different device. Blasting the highway with omnidirectional, illegal, unnecessary noise is "really immature, stupid fun." I know. Tolerance for immature, stupid fun is vanishing in our overcrowded world. When that noise produces absolutely no value for anyone, even the dumbest biker ought to know how this is going to work out. One of the goofy duck-blasting Canucks apologized by saying, "“We should have known better but we didn’t, and for that I am sorry.” All motorcyclists are going to be apologizing for the actions of a few who didn't know better and aren't bright enough to quit their destructive behavior. Like ignorance, stupidity is a poor legal defense.
Feb 24, 2010
Minnesota, Still Not the Place to Buy a Bike
Way back in 2005, I was hunting for a dual purpose commuter bike and I wrote about the weird Minnesota used bike seller's market. I'm not really in the hunt this winter, but I'm interested in a couple of possible upgrades to my garage candy. So, I've been watching Craig's List and that got me into a couple of email conversations with sellers. While the country is mired in what is likely to be called the New Great Depression, motorcycle prices are just as idiotic as always in Minnesota. As I write this it is 3 degrees outside and we're not likely to see anything dramatically warmer for at least a month. Why anyone would buy a motorcycle in Minnesota in February is a mystery that leads the investigator into the realm of insanity and irrational behavior.
The longest conversation I had with a seller this winter was with a guy who was selling a Suzuki 2006 DRZ400SM. The bike was a ways from my ideal, so I was mostly curious as to why he thought he could get $5000 for a used motorcycle that sells for $6300 list and is usually discounted another $500-1000 because dealers can't move them fast enough at list price. His explanation was that he was "underwater on the bike" and couldn't sell it for less without having to come up with cash to pay off the loan. He was also desperate for cash, since he was buying a home. Obviously, his banker didn't learn anything from the last year of sub-prime mortgage lending fiasco.
Like all certifiable Minnesota motorcyclists, this guy was convinced that he would get his price and that I was trying to cheat him by quoting the Kelly Blue Book price or any other reference. He was particularly incensed by my suggestion that his Two Brothers pipe, the carb kit, and the resultant "tuning" he'd done had devalued the bike below the Blue Book price. As if paying lots of money for wreaking the performance and multiplying the irritation factor of the bike makes it less valuable? What kind of crazy person would even suggest such a thing?
Me.
After 14 years in the frozen north, there are two things I firmly believe Minnesotans are incapable of accomplishing: any aspect of competent highway design and all areas of motorcycle tuning. I would pay extra for a used motorcycle that has had every adjustment factory sealed so there is evidence that not a single screw has been turned, a jet replaced, or a needle moved by a resident of this state. Every motorcycle I have purchased in Minnesota (and a couple of other places near here) that has been "tuned" by a past owner has required hours of repair to get the bike back to something resembling the original factory-issued performance. Bike after bike has been hacked, piped, and mangled until the poor things can barely get out of their own way. Which is what led the previous owners to give up and sell their precious motorcycles for the outrageous pittance that I'm willing to spend.
As to the pricing issue, I regularly remind myself of what motorcycles are actually worth by referring to Craig's List in Denver, San Diego, and Los Angeles; places where people actually ride motorcycles regularly and year-around. That used and abused 2006 DRZ400 would be priced from $1600 to $3400 in Denver, no more than $3000 in San Diego (with useful add-ons instead of noisy ones), and rarely more than $2500 in LA/Orange County. There are lots of bikes to choose from, too. The price will go up a little in Denver during the summer, but prices are year-around-constant in southern California. Even crazier, once you get to California or Colorado, you can find better deals than those on Craig's List or the city newspapers.
You could argue that driving from Minnesota to any of those places and riding back would wipe out any savings you might get. True. That doesn't explain the completely unrealistic Minnesota and Midwest prices, but that is true. On the other hand, since you're buying the bike to take a trip why not take a trip, buy a bike, and take another trip back home on the bike? I've done that, twice, in the last 10 years and both trips and bikes were well worth the train ride to the bike. I like train trips almost as much as motorcycle trips, so it has been a double-win. I have some friends in southern California I haven't seen for a couple of decades, maybe I need to plan a spring trip to the coast to buy a bike?
As usual, "just looking" is turning into something more focused. I don't need a new motorcycle. I don't even really want one. Ok, that's a lie but not much of one. If I could get the damn Sherpa to quit dribbling oil I'd be happy with it as my commuter bike. I am happy with the V-Strom and don't expect to replace it for years to come. I think looking at idiot Minnesota used bike prices challenges me to get a better deal, just to show that I can.
Economically, none of this (including my end of the deal) makes any sense. A smart guy would, at least, sell the bike for a Minnesota price and show some kind of profit. I still don't have the Minnesota hoarding gene. When I'm ready to sell, I look at the Blue Book trade-in price and advertise my bikes in that territory. I deal, too. Make me an offer anywhere near my asking price and I want the damn thing out of the garage to make room for whatever new thing I'm occupied with at the moment. That goes for everything I own, not just motorcycles. For 40 years, my idea of living right was to be able to pack everything I own into a VW bug. My motto was "when in doubt, throw it out." I'm old, settled, and married so that's been modified a bunch over the years, but it's still an ideal. If I don't "get my price," I'm as likely to give it away as I am to find a place to store stuff until I can sell it. I take "use it or lose it" seriously.
I guess that explains why I will never be a real Minnesotan.
The longest conversation I had with a seller this winter was with a guy who was selling a Suzuki 2006 DRZ400SM. The bike was a ways from my ideal, so I was mostly curious as to why he thought he could get $5000 for a used motorcycle that sells for $6300 list and is usually discounted another $500-1000 because dealers can't move them fast enough at list price. His explanation was that he was "underwater on the bike" and couldn't sell it for less without having to come up with cash to pay off the loan. He was also desperate for cash, since he was buying a home. Obviously, his banker didn't learn anything from the last year of sub-prime mortgage lending fiasco.
Like all certifiable Minnesota motorcyclists, this guy was convinced that he would get his price and that I was trying to cheat him by quoting the Kelly Blue Book price or any other reference. He was particularly incensed by my suggestion that his Two Brothers pipe, the carb kit, and the resultant "tuning" he'd done had devalued the bike below the Blue Book price. As if paying lots of money for wreaking the performance and multiplying the irritation factor of the bike makes it less valuable? What kind of crazy person would even suggest such a thing?
Me.
After 14 years in the frozen north, there are two things I firmly believe Minnesotans are incapable of accomplishing: any aspect of competent highway design and all areas of motorcycle tuning. I would pay extra for a used motorcycle that has had every adjustment factory sealed so there is evidence that not a single screw has been turned, a jet replaced, or a needle moved by a resident of this state. Every motorcycle I have purchased in Minnesota (and a couple of other places near here) that has been "tuned" by a past owner has required hours of repair to get the bike back to something resembling the original factory-issued performance. Bike after bike has been hacked, piped, and mangled until the poor things can barely get out of their own way. Which is what led the previous owners to give up and sell their precious motorcycles for the outrageous pittance that I'm willing to spend.
As to the pricing issue, I regularly remind myself of what motorcycles are actually worth by referring to Craig's List in Denver, San Diego, and Los Angeles; places where people actually ride motorcycles regularly and year-around. That used and abused 2006 DRZ400 would be priced from $1600 to $3400 in Denver, no more than $3000 in San Diego (with useful add-ons instead of noisy ones), and rarely more than $2500 in LA/Orange County. There are lots of bikes to choose from, too. The price will go up a little in Denver during the summer, but prices are year-around-constant in southern California. Even crazier, once you get to California or Colorado, you can find better deals than those on Craig's List or the city newspapers.
You could argue that driving from Minnesota to any of those places and riding back would wipe out any savings you might get. True. That doesn't explain the completely unrealistic Minnesota and Midwest prices, but that is true. On the other hand, since you're buying the bike to take a trip why not take a trip, buy a bike, and take another trip back home on the bike? I've done that, twice, in the last 10 years and both trips and bikes were well worth the train ride to the bike. I like train trips almost as much as motorcycle trips, so it has been a double-win. I have some friends in southern California I haven't seen for a couple of decades, maybe I need to plan a spring trip to the coast to buy a bike?
As usual, "just looking" is turning into something more focused. I don't need a new motorcycle. I don't even really want one. Ok, that's a lie but not much of one. If I could get the damn Sherpa to quit dribbling oil I'd be happy with it as my commuter bike. I am happy with the V-Strom and don't expect to replace it for years to come. I think looking at idiot Minnesota used bike prices challenges me to get a better deal, just to show that I can.
Economically, none of this (including my end of the deal) makes any sense. A smart guy would, at least, sell the bike for a Minnesota price and show some kind of profit. I still don't have the Minnesota hoarding gene. When I'm ready to sell, I look at the Blue Book trade-in price and advertise my bikes in that territory. I deal, too. Make me an offer anywhere near my asking price and I want the damn thing out of the garage to make room for whatever new thing I'm occupied with at the moment. That goes for everything I own, not just motorcycles. For 40 years, my idea of living right was to be able to pack everything I own into a VW bug. My motto was "when in doubt, throw it out." I'm old, settled, and married so that's been modified a bunch over the years, but it's still an ideal. If I don't "get my price," I'm as likely to give it away as I am to find a place to store stuff until I can sell it. I take "use it or lose it" seriously.I guess that explains why I will never be a real Minnesotan.
Dec 23, 2009
A Most Un-American Idea
For the last month, I've been barraged with catalogs, junk mail, and e-mail all promoting the "top 10 things to buy for the motorcyclist in your life." It's a sad fact, but I am the only motorcyclist in my life for whom I'd be inclined to buy Xmas gifts. Even worse, there is nothing that I want that I don't already have.This is my all time least favorite "holiday" in the history of humanity. From the Coca Cola inspired Santa Claus propaganda to the wash of weirdness that comes from marketeers hoping to make a buck off of sentimentality and religion, I have overloaded on Midwestern guilt and am now suffering an allergic reaction to the whole idea. Like a life-long drunk who suddenly develops an intolerance for alcohol, I have developed a knee-jerk intolerance for anything that attempts to inspire guilt. Every phrase that begins with or sounds anything like "you should feel . . ." trips an anti-sales reaction that eliminates me from the vicinity of the pitch-maker. From the sad sort of douche who listens to every phone salesperson's routine all the way to the end before saying "no thanks," I have mutated into someone who hangs up the phone in 1 second if I have the slightest notion that I'm about to hear from an automated phone message or an auto-dialed live sales squid.
If it weren't for the rare phone call I get from my kids and grand kids, I'd disconnect the phone altogether for the month of December. With an encouragement at all from my wife, I'd just yank the damn thing from the wall and be done with telephones for the rest of my life.
As for motorcycle paraphernalia, I have more of that stuff than I know what to do with. I don't need more riding gear, a new motorcycle, an old motorcycle, or anything other than another set of tires for when the V-Strom's current shoes wear out early next spring. There is a lot of cool stuff in the catalogs that I could imagine wanting, if I had room for more stuff, but I don't want any of enough to bother my family with making a list. If I wanted to buy stuff for myself, I'd do it anything but during the Xmas season.
And that is my most un-American idea; buy your stuff anytime but between Thanksgiving and Xmas. Wait for the end-of-year sales. Wait for the beginning-of-year sales. Wait for spring. Wait for summer. Wait for your birthday or your wife's birthday or your kid's birthday. Just wait out Xmas. Don't encourage this idiotic behavior, this national frenzy of guilty and irrational spending. Statistics demonstrate that $15 billion of the $40 billion spent every Xmas results in unappreciated and unwanted crap that most of us throw away rather than bothering to return to the store. If you know you are going to be wasting $0.37 out of every buck you spent, why are you still doing that?
Yeah, I know. "Bah humbug." It's true. Outside of giving to people who actually need help, the rest of this season is lost on me. I don't need help with anything but my grumpy attitude and that won't be likely to change until the damn "holiday season" is done with.
However, if you can't control yourself, the V-Strom tires are 110/80 19 front and 150/70 17 rear. Honestly, I don't care all that much what brand you buy me, as long as I don't have to buy them. I never look a gift tire in the tread. If I get my druthers, I'd druther have Metzler Tourances, but anything that fits will get me down the road. Since I don't do Xmas thank-you notes, I want you to know I appreciate the tires even if I don't take the time to tell you so.
Dec 6, 2009
Why Not?
All Rights Reserved © 2008 Thomas W. Day
"I have attention deficit disorder. Can I ride a motorcycle?"
Sure, why not.
"Will I be safe in freeway traffic?"
Probably not. I expect you'll get killed or maimed in your first week in traffic.
"That's not fair"
You have attention deficit disorder. Motorcycling is a high concentration activity. Get used to it. Life is like that. In fact, nature intended life to be only for the fit.
"I have dyslexia, can I ride a motorcycle?"
"I weigh 400 pounds and can barely lift a coffee cup with out experiencing chest pains, can I ride a motorcycle?"
"I am blind in one eye and can't see out of the other, can I ride a motorcycle?"
"My little (22 year old) boy is dumb as a post, irresponsible, and couldn't find his own nose with a 1x12, should I buy him a motorcycle?"
Sure, why not? All of you should take out a second mortgage and buy the biggest, ugliest hippobike you can find. Slap some loud pipes on it, for safety's sake, and slip that big monster into heavy traffic. Do your bit to solve overpopulation. Why not?
We live in a victim-based, entitlement-sheltered, litigious culture where everyone is not only "created equal" but where many believe the legal system can overrule the laws of physics and common sense. My home state once attempted to legislate pi to 3.00 (actually, 3 without decimal places to keep the concept simple), for convenience and orderly-ness sake. Pi, however, remained its unruly self and the universe remained inconveniently hostile to simple minds. The universe is a really big place and, in the overall scheme of it, we're insignificant as a planet, of no notable consequence as a species, and totally non-existent as motorcyclists. We can make all the dumbass laws we want without making the slightest dent in the effects of gravity, velocity, mass, acceleration and deceleration, centripetal forces, entropy, or mortality.
Outside of being a tiny part of a really big picture, the problem with a motorcycle is that, regardless of our distaste for the inconvenience, a motorcycle will remain a two-wheeled vehicle with minimal safety features and a high skill requirement. You can be dyslexic, ADD-afflicted, uncoordinated, physically incapacitated, and a total moron and public transportation can, probably, still help you to your intended destination. At the least, a cage will surround you in a shock-absorbent, crash enclosure that will probably shield you from your inabilities and indiscretions. A motorcycle will spit you off, fling you into fast moving traffic, and--if you time it carefully--add insult to injury by landing on top of you after other obstacles have had their way with your mangled body.
Even if you are in the prime of life, at the peak of human capacity and a nuclear-physicist-brain-surgery-performing-rocket-scientist, a motorcycle, Murphy, and Mother Nature can still find a way to maim or annihilate you. If astronaut John Glenn can practically kill himself stepping out of a shower, zipping down the highway on two wheels at 100 feet-per-second has to be pushing the limits of reasonable activities. Of course, that also applies to flying an airplane, hang gliding, sky and scuba diving, bicycling, playing most sports, running, climbing or descending stairs, jumping rope, and talking about religion, love, or politics in public.
Many high risk activities have restrictive entry requirements. To rent or fill scuba tanks, for example, you have to successfully complete accredited scuba diving training. Before you're allowed to jump out of an airplane, you have to suffer through hours of closely monitored instruction. Motorcycling is less carefully controlled. Like getting a driver's license, the state's licensing program is designed to hand out certifications in Cracker Jack boxes. If you can't meet the current requirements for getting a motorcycle license, you might not be safe outside of a padded room.
Regardless of the state's low standards of acceptance, we humans ought to exercise a little uncommon sense. If your legs are broken, don't run marathons. If you're blind, don't waste your money on computer aided design college classes. If you can't sing, don't expect Simon Whatshisface to say nice things about your voice. If you aren't physically and mentally able to deal with the demands of managing a motorcycle in heavy traffic, if you can't control your panic reactions, if you don't have the self-discipline to constantly work on your riding skills, stay away from motorcycles. Yes, you can "ride" all of the motorcycle video games you like, but don't touch real iron. You'll create even more enemies for an otherwise perfectly useful mode of transportation. You'll add to our already miserable statistics. You'll get killed. We'll end up with more moronic laws, more employment for useless lawyers, and you'll still be dead.
I've changed my mind. No, you can't ride a motorcycle.
"I have attention deficit disorder. Can I ride a motorcycle?"
Sure, why not.
"Will I be safe in freeway traffic?"
Probably not. I expect you'll get killed or maimed in your first week in traffic.
"That's not fair"
You have attention deficit disorder. Motorcycling is a high concentration activity. Get used to it. Life is like that. In fact, nature intended life to be only for the fit.
"I have dyslexia, can I ride a motorcycle?"
"I weigh 400 pounds and can barely lift a coffee cup with out experiencing chest pains, can I ride a motorcycle?"
"I am blind in one eye and can't see out of the other, can I ride a motorcycle?"
"My little (22 year old) boy is dumb as a post, irresponsible, and couldn't find his own nose with a 1x12, should I buy him a motorcycle?"
Sure, why not? All of you should take out a second mortgage and buy the biggest, ugliest hippobike you can find. Slap some loud pipes on it, for safety's sake, and slip that big monster into heavy traffic. Do your bit to solve overpopulation. Why not?
We live in a victim-based, entitlement-sheltered, litigious culture where everyone is not only "created equal" but where many believe the legal system can overrule the laws of physics and common sense. My home state once attempted to legislate pi to 3.00 (actually, 3 without decimal places to keep the concept simple), for convenience and orderly-ness sake. Pi, however, remained its unruly self and the universe remained inconveniently hostile to simple minds. The universe is a really big place and, in the overall scheme of it, we're insignificant as a planet, of no notable consequence as a species, and totally non-existent as motorcyclists. We can make all the dumbass laws we want without making the slightest dent in the effects of gravity, velocity, mass, acceleration and deceleration, centripetal forces, entropy, or mortality.
Outside of being a tiny part of a really big picture, the problem with a motorcycle is that, regardless of our distaste for the inconvenience, a motorcycle will remain a two-wheeled vehicle with minimal safety features and a high skill requirement. You can be dyslexic, ADD-afflicted, uncoordinated, physically incapacitated, and a total moron and public transportation can, probably, still help you to your intended destination. At the least, a cage will surround you in a shock-absorbent, crash enclosure that will probably shield you from your inabilities and indiscretions. A motorcycle will spit you off, fling you into fast moving traffic, and--if you time it carefully--add insult to injury by landing on top of you after other obstacles have had their way with your mangled body.
Even if you are in the prime of life, at the peak of human capacity and a nuclear-physicist-brain-surgery-performing-rocket-scientist, a motorcycle, Murphy, and Mother Nature can still find a way to maim or annihilate you. If astronaut John Glenn can practically kill himself stepping out of a shower, zipping down the highway on two wheels at 100 feet-per-second has to be pushing the limits of reasonable activities. Of course, that also applies to flying an airplane, hang gliding, sky and scuba diving, bicycling, playing most sports, running, climbing or descending stairs, jumping rope, and talking about religion, love, or politics in public.
Many high risk activities have restrictive entry requirements. To rent or fill scuba tanks, for example, you have to successfully complete accredited scuba diving training. Before you're allowed to jump out of an airplane, you have to suffer through hours of closely monitored instruction. Motorcycling is less carefully controlled. Like getting a driver's license, the state's licensing program is designed to hand out certifications in Cracker Jack boxes. If you can't meet the current requirements for getting a motorcycle license, you might not be safe outside of a padded room.
Regardless of the state's low standards of acceptance, we humans ought to exercise a little uncommon sense. If your legs are broken, don't run marathons. If you're blind, don't waste your money on computer aided design college classes. If you can't sing, don't expect Simon Whatshisface to say nice things about your voice. If you aren't physically and mentally able to deal with the demands of managing a motorcycle in heavy traffic, if you can't control your panic reactions, if you don't have the self-discipline to constantly work on your riding skills, stay away from motorcycles. Yes, you can "ride" all of the motorcycle video games you like, but don't touch real iron. You'll create even more enemies for an otherwise perfectly useful mode of transportation. You'll add to our already miserable statistics. You'll get killed. We'll end up with more moronic laws, more employment for useless lawyers, and you'll still be dead.
I've changed my mind. No, you can't ride a motorcycle.
Aug 12, 2009
Team Riding
I have, officially, changed my mind about group riding. If I could find a crew like this to ride with, count me in. You'll notice they are all wearing helmets, so it's a safe-riding bunch of folks. I particularly like the PA system that allows for giving cagers notice that they need to move out of the path of travel before blowing the hell out of them.I'm a little disappointed that this practical vehicle wasn't "Made in the USA." Oh well, if it worked for the Germans in 1941, it's probably good enough for me.
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