Anniversary

Hard as it is to believe, today is exactly 25 years since I first got on a motorcycle. Naturally this causes some reflection.

I ride motorcycles because I like to ride motorcycles. They offer real, intrinsic pleasures. Like the joy of dancing with nature's forces, getting thrills from fierce acceleration, and savoring the excitement of leaning deeply into curves. In short, motorcycles are fun.

I never cared or worried about their social status. I don't cosplay as a tattooed biker or resemble a teenage squid. I'm simply a guy who enjoys riding.

In the 1950s and '60s, motorcycles became cool. They acquired social cachet from Hollywood movies and national magazines that glamorized them as the pinnacle of social deviance. They were seen as forbidden toys for dangerous bad boys. That image caused many young people to try riding. 

The symbolism dwindled, however, and later disappeared. Today you might see a motorcycle in a brief cameo during an action-movie but they aren't the stars anymore; films aren't centered around motorcycles the way they used to be. This change diminished the interest of some young people in riding -- which is sad, because speeding through space on two wheels has real-world appeal.

As the motorcycling community gets older and smaller, I refuse to abandon an activity that makes me happy. I didn't get into motorcycles because of "society" (which is just other people's views); I won't get out of it for the same reason. As long as I can continue to swing my leg over a piece of hot metal, I'll do so.

"When the path reveals itself, follow it." 

(C. Strayed, "Brave Enough," p. 79)

"Being shot out of a cannon will always be better than being squeezed out of a tube. That is why God made fast motorcycles, Bubba." 

(H. Thompson, "Kingdom of Fear," p. 173)