Some people ask me why I ride a motorcycle and others are curious but too shy to ask. It is not something that can be conveyed through conversations. It is a lifestyle, a recreation and a religion. It inspires people to push themselves to the edge, while taking others far away. But this is just the tip of the iceberg. If you ask 10 riders why they bike you will get 10 different answers. You still won’t understand why they bike, until you do.
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As I sit in my automobile, I see the world as if it were on a television screen. Outside exists on the other side of the glass, another, slightly unreal world that doesn’t conform to my controlled environment inside. It’s like watching a newscast from some foreign land, something vaguely worrisome, but that doesn’t quite touch me.
I listen to the news of smog alerts and deteriorating ozone on the radio while sitting idle in my car in the parking lot in order to maintain the air conditioning. I half-listen to news reports of road rage and traffic fatalities while weaving in and out of the flow of cars, distracted by cell phone conversations.
Most of my driving is to such exotic locations as the local mall, school or the parking lot at work. In order to deny the dullness of life, I buy into the advertising hype of automobile manufacturers because they promise to lift us out of our boredom and provide off-road adventure and excitement knowing all along that I will never leave the pavement except unwillingly at highway construction sites. We purchase these ugly, bloated, gas-guzzling, over-powered, gaudy and uneconomical vehicles in a vain effort to ease the monotony of daily life.
Automobiles have become unreal and artificial environments, a protective metal shell that isolates us from the world outside and limits its intrusion into our personal space. In effect, it becomes my personal space. Inside a vehicle are devices which strengthen barriers between those inside and outside: music systems, a plethora of dials and devices, cell phones, climate controls, clocks, thermometers, even television sets and GPS indicators. The plush chairs lull us into believing we are in our living room rather than a speeding mass of metal.
On a motorcycle, the real world is never excluded from the experience of traveling. There are no cell phones; no stereo set or radio to distract me. I can smell the world I travel through, feel the wind buffet me, hear the sound of traffic; I am totally aware of the road conditions, and of my surroundings. I am alone, unprotected, not one of the crowd. I am alone with my thoughts, in a Zen-like bubble of consciousness. I look, I think and I ride.
I am acutely aware of other vehicles on the road, even if the car owners are blithely ignorant of me. I notice pets, pedestrians and potholes. I cannot run over anything. I am vulnerable when I ride, to both the physical and emotional realities of the world. I ride in the world, never merely past it.
Riding is demanding and challenging, motorcycles are about control; subtle changes in body position, a slight motion of the wrist, a casual shift in the location of elbows and knees - all of these affect the ride, the lean angle, the power applied to the wheels. Tiny movements translate into significant reactions. To ride a motorcycle is to apply your entire body to the act of riding. Everything the rider does has a result. You cannot ride and not be aware of how you sit, how your arms are flexed, the position of your shoulders or your legs.
Riding sets me apart and puts me on the outskirts of popular culture. I like it that way. I don’t run with the pack. I am not counted in the lemming-like hordes of look-alike mini-vans and SUVs. I am an outsider, non-conformist, free thinker, independent and proud of it.
Riding is socially interactive; any gathering of riders is generally sociable and more friendly, a place where strangers talk animatedly about their interests and their bikes. Drawn together because of one common interest, we have a basic underlying respect for anyone else who rides. Sure there are brand and style loyalties among riders, but the fact that you ride makes you welcome at almost any motorcycle event. And you never have to defend your passion among riders. They already know. You see riders wave and nod at one another, greeting strangers simply because they also share the passion. Motorcyclists treat one another like companions. The rare time you will see a motorcyclist gesture rudely is usually at a driver who has performed a stupid, inconsiderate or dangerous (sometimes all three) act and threatened the safety of the rider.
Motorcyclists are not immune from stupidity, of course. Some less mature riders will rise up and wheelie on suburban streets. Ignorant riders will scream down low-speed roads with a screech of rubber and a wisp of smoke. Foolish young riders will wear nothing more than a T-shirt and shorts for 'protection'... proof that not all riders are imbued with wit and wisdom and that some simply have a lot of growing up to do. Unfortunately they tend to give the better riders an equally bad reputation.
In general, motorcyclists are not so stupid. Responsible, mature and intelligent riders keep their stunts to the racetrack, don’t endanger others and don’t show off. They don’t need to. A real motorcyclist doesn’t need to do childish tricks to draw attention to him- or herself. The act of riding is all he or she needs. Because enlightened motorcyclists are more aware of their surroundings, they ride through their communities with more respect for the others who share the road. They also watch for others because of the threat collisions pose to both parties. A healthy sense of paranoia never hurt a motorcycle rider. It’s far safer to slow down, far safer to stop than run the risk of an accident. A good rider knows this.
Riding is simply a lot of fun. It is a joy to shift gears onto an open road, lean into twisty corners. It is a sensory delight to ride to the top of a hill and then scoot down it again. It is pleasurable to flick gears, tap the throttle, twitch a knee and have the bike obey like a trained quarter horse. It’s variously exciting, relaxing, enlightening and ennobling to ride.
Riding is also about looks, style, and individuality. Riders dress the part, dress their bikes, polish, clean and accessorize according to personal whims, tastes and perceived social standing. The rebellious look of a biker all dressed in black, It's about a crafted stylishness that's at once casual and formal. How you look is part of why I ride.
Riding is passionate, about making the adrenaline flow, about pleasure, about awakened and heightened sensation. Riding is that moment of sphincter-clenching fear and excitement when you scream through a tight corner, leaned over further than you thought you could, then pop out into the straight with a whoop and a grin. Riding is that feeling I get in the morning when I open the garage and there it is in all its chrome and metal glory, and I just have to smile even though I’ve seen it a thousand mornings before.
Riding is about the heads that turn to look as I pass by. Riding is about the envious glances from coworkers as they exit their dull cars and watch as I pop my bike onto its kick stand.
Riding is about taking that side road out of the traffic stream just to see where it goes. Riding is about filling up with $10 worth of gas instead of $70. Riding is about meeting strangers at a gas station and striking up a friendly conversation about motorcycles. Riding is about parking two or three bikes to a single space. Riding is about spending an hour or two washing and polishing and then looking at it with deep pride.
Riding is about beauty. Every motorcycle is a work of art, some breath-taking in their sheer elegance. The only cars that can even come close to a bike in grace and form are European sports cars. I feel even the ugliest bike is a thousand fold more beautiful than any family sedan.
If you don’t understand, I can’t explain it in any more words. Sit in your car or SUV and try to tell me that your heart beats a little faster when you turn the engine on. Pull into a mall parking lot full of so many cars and SUV's that you worry about recognizing your own vehicle - and try to tell me you felt a thrill about coming together with them all. Drive through the countryside with your windows rolled up, air conditioning on and music cranked up and try to express the experience of motion through the fresh air that smelled of new hay and cows.
If you've never ridden, you can't comprehend. But once you try it, you're hooked for life.
That is why I ride a motorcycle. - CAT