Thursday, September 28, 2023

It's Over

This post starts sad but turns upbeat.

I just reached a terrible decision: to stop riding motorcycles. For months the prospect of this tore me up; I couldn't accept it even as its inevitability became manifest. My eyesight simply isn't good enough to ride safely anymore. Hell, I can't walk alone in a crowd, how can I pilot a dangerous vehicle in busy traffic?

Motorcycling has been central to my life for 25 years. A core activity and the source of many joys. After learning how to operate the basics in 1997 I took several MSF training courses to improve my riding skills. Later I graduated to sportbikes capable of high speed and nimble handling, hitting 140 mph at the racetrack. Equally pleasurable I expanded into long-distance touring. I traveled everywhere on my bikes, even carrying a tiny tent and camping in the woods. Best of all I met dozens of interesting new friends. Despite vast differences in background we easily bonded over our common passion. Through motorcycling I discovered a whole new world. But you already know this from my frequent accounts here of two-wheeled adventure.

Motorcycling gave me what I craved when I needed it. During the second half of my adulthood (ages 40-65) riding was a sumptuous feast I consumed voraciously, always putting a smile on my face. Who'd want that to end?

After much deliberation I've finally come to peace with this situation. It isn't really a decision at all but simply recognition of facts. The only choice I face is how to react to the news. I can't get better eyesight.

Instead of despair I'm choosing to be grateful for the wonderful life I had on motorcycles. I was lucky to incorporate them into my life and enjoy a glorious, 25-year riding career. Let's focus on that, not sadness.

In the best movie of all time a middle-aged man (Rick) fell in love with a beautiful woman (Ilsa) during WWII. They spent marvelous time together in glittering Paris. Suddenly, however, Ilsa left Rick with no explanation. Rick was crushed by the cruel loss of love. Years later Ilsa returns to Rick's cafe in Casablanca. She approaches Rick but he's in terrible pain. Rick rejects Ilsa's overture with bitter hostility. Ilsa finally explains to Rick why she left him; it's a story of patriotism that Rick ultimately accepts. He re-considers his view of their past and realizes he should build a new future for himself without her instead of remaining stuck in howling agony. The film ends with Rick and Ilsa parting again, only this time Rick is in good spirits. He tells Ilsa: "We'll always have Paris," referring to their enchanting love in that city before fate split them apart.

I'll always have motorcycling. I will carry it in my heart forever. I appreciate what riding gave me even as that now ends.









16 comments:

  1. Aw, honey, I'm so sorry. (hug). Of course, this was coming, but that doesn't make it any easier. My mom's had to come to grips with never traveling again and it's been a really hard journey for her to get to that same place of acceptance, but like you, she's trying to celebrate all that she DID, not what she CAN'T.

    I'm proud of you for this big step, and so glad you have 25 years of amazing adventures to remember and cherish.

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  2. I'm so sorry Ally. Although your decision can't have been easy, I'm admiring the way you decided to deal with it, and celebrate your 25 years of motorcycling and carry them in your heart. Sending hugs! xxx

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  3. "...come to peace with this situation."

    Sorry to hear you've had to make this decision, but heartened to read you've made peace with things. To have happy memories is a wonderful thing, I feel

    Plus, perhaps biker friends would be kind enough to let you ride pillion and you can feel the wind in your face once again.

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    1. Thanks, Lynn. Yes, there are ways I can stay connected to motorcycling without actually operating one myself. The biggest way is to stay in touch with my buddies. I appreciate your suggestion.

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  4. Those things will always be a part of you, even if you are no longer engaging in it. I hope the friends you made along the way still keep in touch.

    You had some great travels, adventures and experiences with motorcycles. I'll probably never see one again without instantly thinking of you.

    It's a hard thing to process, especially a big part of your identity and experiences will now change but you're approaching it in very healthy way.

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    1. Thank, Megan. With usual genius you identify a central aspect of this which I deliberately avoided discussing: identity. Yes, for two decades I created and lived a social identity as an adventurous biker -- which was a radical departure from my previous social identity as a quiet (often overlooked) attorney. The shift was intentional and rewarding, enabling me to show others a previously-unseen side. (I've been a closet-deviant from day one and cloaked that with social conformity.)

      The chief reason I refrained from mentioning that on Facebook (whose audience doesn't know me as well as readers of this blog) is because I don't want to relinquish that image. Rather, I want to transfer it as I explore new activities. I want to be known as a badass who pursues adventure in multiple ways even as one of them has closed to him.

      It's incredibly valuable to have you as a friend. You see me more deeply than other people and I appreciate you that. A lot.

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  5. I admire the way you are accepting giving up something that is part of who you are.

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  6. Given that your blog name - the name that intrigued me when I first saw your name on other people's blogs where you had commented and meant I came over here to say hi for the first time - is "Shybiker"- this is is such an intrinsic part of who you are and who I see you as, this has got to be so difficult.... I am amazed, yet again, at how you are dealing with this and being so positive and pragmatic about it. You are sharing light, with the world that is very dark at the moment, by that very action!
    25 years is a long time to cherish- many happy memories, challenges, growing as a sportsperson as well as a person- I hope you can feel and picture each happy memory and it will nourish you in hard times. You've achieved a lot as a biker!
    Sending you hugs. xx

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    1. Thank you, Kezzie. When I thought about starting a blog my goal was to be as honest and authentic as possible. Choosing this name was an integral part of that. I'm happy to hear it attracted you; that means I achieved my goal. Your comment about light and darkness has greater relevance than perhaps you realize: my visual impairment is largely being unable to see light. I live in literal darkness. It impairs and depresses me. But living like that is futile; I have to and try to go beyond it and create the positivity you mention. Thank you for seeing my efforts as what they are; your perceptiveness helps me.

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  7. We cannot choose what challenges we encounter in life but we can choose how we react to them. I admire your ability to focus on the positive memories you've created in the past and your acceptance of your new limitations. I feel for you though as I'm sure it wasn't easy to make this decision. I do hope you can maintain the ties with your motorcycle buddies. It is friendships that keep us warm in the winter of our lives.

    Big hugs,

    Suzanne

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    1. Yes, that's true. Thankfully my friendships with biker-buddies are very strong.

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  8. Even if you are not able to ride, you're still a biker. It's an identity, a sort of right of passage you've earned. A pilot doesn't stop being a pilot.

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    1. Absolutely right. Thanks for noting this, Ivana.

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