Wanting

It's funny the things we'll tell ourselves in order t rationalize a purchase. I was speaking with a friend recently about motorcycles. He wants one bad. I mean, there is always a cycle trader next to the john, he has every issue of Horse magazine, he checks craigslist for motorcycles every chance he gets. Here's the kicker, he's never really ridden a motorcycle more than a few blocks. So what is it that he wants? Does he want to own a motorcycle? I started thinking about my own motivations for buying a motorcycle.

I grew up around motorcycles, my dad rode, his friends all rode, we went on camping trips to motorcycle rallies on a regular basis. Motorcycles were something that all of my male role models had, as were tattoos. With this influence I never second guessed my motivations for buying a motorcycle. That's the first problem. I would envision myself with a motorcycle, cruising down the road, and in retrospect, I realize I was just photoshopping my face onto Peter Fonda's body on the Easyriders poster. I had no frame of reference for what the experience of riding motorcycles would actually be like. I had ridden many miles on the back of a motorcycle, but virtually none as the pilot. Yet I was just as fascinated as my friend, and many others, are.

I asked my buddy why he wanted a motorcycle and he thought about it for a bit and then answered, "Freedom." That was it. He wanted to be free and these pictures of people on motorcycles and these stories that he's heard, they make motorcycles seem like the golden ticket to freedom. THis is one of the most predominant perceptions of motorcycles. To be fair, motorcycles do offer a form of freedom, but it may not be what people are envisioning when they buy one.

The freedom on a motorcycle is a stripping down effect. You become limited as to who you can take with you when you go somewhere, how long you can travel between gas stops-depending on the size of your tank- and how much crap you can take with you. All of these things are fairly minor, but this next one is the real doozy: complacency. Complacency on a motorcycle is extremely dangerous, a little gravel on the road, a miscalculated turn, a car changing lanes into you can all mean disaster. Riding involves the cooperation of every apendage, and sense, working in unison. The freedom on a motorcycle is that of general safety. There is nothing but your clothing between you and the world. And by world, I mean to include the menagerie of shit that's going to pelt your body as you cruise down the road. Just two days ago I took out a Monarch that was large enough that I had to pull off at the next gas station to clean my face shield in order to see effectively.

I think if most people were asked for a definition of freedom it would not include a reduction in safety and an increase in risk, but that is exactly the kind of freedom that a motorcycle offers. Why is this freedom so appealing to people? The answer, quite honestly, is that it is not. THe perception surrounding motorcycles and biker culture leave out being pelted by rain, bugs, and road debris. These perceptions don't include the costs of new tires, oil changes and safety gear. The perceptions are all wind swept hair and bright chrome accesories- saddle sores and aching bones have no place in the motorcycle fantasy.

When it comes down to it though, it's the ugly side of motorcycling that I'm the most proud of. I took a trip up to dallas and made a decided impact on the bug population between here and there. The front of the bike was covered in bugs-I didn't wash it off for two weeks. I earned every one of those little bastards. Learning how to survive a five hour trip on the bike without giving in to fatigue is so much more important than how shiny my chrome is. My perceptions before I bought my bike were based around emotions associated with preconceptions of who bikers were. My experiences with my motorcycle and the roads of Texas have all been instrumental in revealing who I am, and that has been the best surprise of all.