Great article for those who think riding is dangerous
#1
Great article for those who think riding is dangerous
An open letter to every person I meet who finds out I ride a motorcycle | Hell for Leather
An open letter to every person I meet who finds out I ride a motorcycle
Let me stop you right there, mmmm-kay? I can tell by that little intake of breath what’s coming next. Thank you in advance, but I already know that motorcycles are “dangerous.” After nearly twenty years of riding on the streets, I am aware; telling me now will not be a revelation. It is not an insight into my lifestyle that has remained hidden from me until this, the moment of epiphany when you shine the light of outsider wisdom on my foolhardy choices.
There are ways I can minimize the risk — by riding defensively, riding sober, knowing my own and my machine’s capabilities, etc. — but I also know there are some risks that are simply beyond my control. But you know what? There a lots of risks that are within my control. We’ve become so pathologically risk-averse that for most people it is inconceivable to assume any additional risk no matter how much joy you might get back in return.
You want to know what’s truly dangerous? Not taking any risks. Hanging out with like-minded middle-of-the-roaders. Absorbing the same brain-ossifying **** from media factories every day. Jogging. Putting helmets, flotation devices, and auto-deploy epi-pens on your kids every time they leave the house. Passivity. Not paying attention to where your car, or your life, or you country is going.
If you don’t get that, that’s OK. I’m not trying to convert anybody, but here are a few tips to save us both a little aggravation:
You don’t need to tell me the horror story about your uncle’s buddy who wiped out his chopper while drag racing at some hooligan rally. That just makes me wish I were talking to your uncle’s buddy instead of you. He sounds pretty cool.
Do not — do NOT — tell me about the time you almost Sausage Creatured a biker because you “couldn’t see him” or he “came out of nowhere.” I have never known a bike to come out of nowhere, but I have seen plenty of cars pull a Crazy Ivan and turn into a lane occupied by a biker or make an impromptu unsignalled left turn in front of an oncoming me. If you’re expecting me to share your outrage at the temerity of bikers to be in the lane you want, you’re more deluded than a goldfish with a passport. I can’t make you see bikes. I can’t make you hang up your phone. They won’t let me mount a .50-caliber machine gun to my bike. So really, there’s not much I can do to change the outcome of your anecdote, so save it for your coreligionists who also have stick-figure families and giant softball stickers with the name “Tailyr” or “Flynn” or “Shyly” on their rear windows.
I do wear a helmet, as a matter of fact, along with other protective gear. But, the fact that you “certainly hope” I wear a helmet is so condescending it makes me want to ride a tricycle completely naked doing doughnuts in your front yard screaming Beastie Boys lyrics at midnight. Trust me, you do not want that. My buttocks are extremely pale and unsightly, especially in moonlight.
Please, do not complain about bikes parking in car parking spaces. Where are we supposed to park? If they let us park up on the curb like in Europe, we would totally do that, and precious few parking lots have motorcycle parking areas. Most cops already have a hard-on for bikes, so parking anywhere but in a designated spot is asking to be impounded.
Yes, I know, some bikes have very loud exhaust. Maybe it’s obnoxious, but at least you knew they were there, didn’t you? They say loud pipes save lives. I don’t know if that’s true, because there hasn’t been a serious comprehensive study of motorcycle safety since 1981, the poetically named Hurt Report. And yes, I know, at one point you probably saw some kid riding his 600cc sport bike at 100mph doing a wheelie down the freeway. He’s a squid, and he’ll either grow up or just take care of himself. Some bikers do crazy things. Anti-social things. Unsanctioned things. I don’t represent him and he doesn’t represent me — that’s the great part of being a biker. I could be a Lowbrow Weirdo or Antoine Predock or Lyle Lovett or just whatever I want to be.
If you’re really so all-fire concerned about my safety, don’t preach at me. Just do me this one favor: pay attention when you’re driving. Keep your greasy fingers off your touch-screen, put down your phone, use your turn signals and lay off the booze before you get on the road with me. You take care of your part and I’ll take care of mine.
But hang-gliding, man, that **** is crazy.
Carter Edman is an architect, writer, and rider in Cleveland, Ohio. He teaches “Motorcycles and American Culture” and other courses at Case Western Reserve University.
An open letter to every person I meet who finds out I ride a motorcycle
Let me stop you right there, mmmm-kay? I can tell by that little intake of breath what’s coming next. Thank you in advance, but I already know that motorcycles are “dangerous.” After nearly twenty years of riding on the streets, I am aware; telling me now will not be a revelation. It is not an insight into my lifestyle that has remained hidden from me until this, the moment of epiphany when you shine the light of outsider wisdom on my foolhardy choices.
There are ways I can minimize the risk — by riding defensively, riding sober, knowing my own and my machine’s capabilities, etc. — but I also know there are some risks that are simply beyond my control. But you know what? There a lots of risks that are within my control. We’ve become so pathologically risk-averse that for most people it is inconceivable to assume any additional risk no matter how much joy you might get back in return.
You want to know what’s truly dangerous? Not taking any risks. Hanging out with like-minded middle-of-the-roaders. Absorbing the same brain-ossifying **** from media factories every day. Jogging. Putting helmets, flotation devices, and auto-deploy epi-pens on your kids every time they leave the house. Passivity. Not paying attention to where your car, or your life, or you country is going.
If you don’t get that, that’s OK. I’m not trying to convert anybody, but here are a few tips to save us both a little aggravation:
You don’t need to tell me the horror story about your uncle’s buddy who wiped out his chopper while drag racing at some hooligan rally. That just makes me wish I were talking to your uncle’s buddy instead of you. He sounds pretty cool.
Do not — do NOT — tell me about the time you almost Sausage Creatured a biker because you “couldn’t see him” or he “came out of nowhere.” I have never known a bike to come out of nowhere, but I have seen plenty of cars pull a Crazy Ivan and turn into a lane occupied by a biker or make an impromptu unsignalled left turn in front of an oncoming me. If you’re expecting me to share your outrage at the temerity of bikers to be in the lane you want, you’re more deluded than a goldfish with a passport. I can’t make you see bikes. I can’t make you hang up your phone. They won’t let me mount a .50-caliber machine gun to my bike. So really, there’s not much I can do to change the outcome of your anecdote, so save it for your coreligionists who also have stick-figure families and giant softball stickers with the name “Tailyr” or “Flynn” or “Shyly” on their rear windows.
I do wear a helmet, as a matter of fact, along with other protective gear. But, the fact that you “certainly hope” I wear a helmet is so condescending it makes me want to ride a tricycle completely naked doing doughnuts in your front yard screaming Beastie Boys lyrics at midnight. Trust me, you do not want that. My buttocks are extremely pale and unsightly, especially in moonlight.
Please, do not complain about bikes parking in car parking spaces. Where are we supposed to park? If they let us park up on the curb like in Europe, we would totally do that, and precious few parking lots have motorcycle parking areas. Most cops already have a hard-on for bikes, so parking anywhere but in a designated spot is asking to be impounded.
Yes, I know, some bikes have very loud exhaust. Maybe it’s obnoxious, but at least you knew they were there, didn’t you? They say loud pipes save lives. I don’t know if that’s true, because there hasn’t been a serious comprehensive study of motorcycle safety since 1981, the poetically named Hurt Report. And yes, I know, at one point you probably saw some kid riding his 600cc sport bike at 100mph doing a wheelie down the freeway. He’s a squid, and he’ll either grow up or just take care of himself. Some bikers do crazy things. Anti-social things. Unsanctioned things. I don’t represent him and he doesn’t represent me — that’s the great part of being a biker. I could be a Lowbrow Weirdo or Antoine Predock or Lyle Lovett or just whatever I want to be.
If you’re really so all-fire concerned about my safety, don’t preach at me. Just do me this one favor: pay attention when you’re driving. Keep your greasy fingers off your touch-screen, put down your phone, use your turn signals and lay off the booze before you get on the road with me. You take care of your part and I’ll take care of mine.
But hang-gliding, man, that **** is crazy.
Carter Edman is an architect, writer, and rider in Cleveland, Ohio. He teaches “Motorcycles and American Culture” and other courses at Case Western Reserve University.
Last edited by 8541Hawk; 06-07-2012 at 12:32 PM.
#3
interesting...it shows 2012 for this "letter"....
I saw it maybe 6 years ago after I got hit on the street.
I couldn't remember later where I had found it, but maybe it's just a republish from the same author?
Still like it today, too.
I saw it maybe 6 years ago after I got hit on the street.
I couldn't remember later where I had found it, but maybe it's just a republish from the same author?
Still like it today, too.
#4
Kinda windy. . .(cager rolls eyes upward and checks smart phone for incoming).
Face it Hawk, you're a creature from a different world and the cultures on this one don't register the blip of you on their radar.
You probably feel better after posting it here in the choir but it'll never fit the tweet format on the streets.
Face it Hawk, you're a creature from a different world and the cultures on this one don't register the blip of you on their radar.
You probably feel better after posting it here in the choir but it'll never fit the tweet format on the streets.
#5
+1 8541Hawk
When I first was learning to ride I started on a 600cc. Yamaha. I got the bike before I started my MSF course. I knew the instructor and would go out riding with him before my class started( quite a long waiting list/backlog) learning the "friction zone". Also to be geared well and noticable.
One of the first things I had to understand/accept was that everytime I go out on my bike, I may not make it back.
This didn't mean that I was DOOMED if I rode a bike or take foolish chances, just that it was a definate possibility. I got through my MSF class and passed. It was at that time one of the most challanging and intense classes/training I have ever encountered.
There were a few that didn't pass and I don't think even retook the class. Realistically, not everyone is cut out to ride a motorcycle(safely/proficiently enough). Not to say I am any better than any other rider/person, but it does take a skill set that not everyone has. Everytime I gearup for my ride, before I leave I say a prayer, that I make it back. I accept it and try to ride at the best of my abilities(skill and safety). By not doing so I feel that a rider will be too caught up in the what if rather than the what to do(building instinct reactions). Riding a motorcycle(or any other speed sport) is dangerous. So is walking across the street.
Ride with awareness, Ride with Skill and Ride Well.
I would rather have ridden and enjoyed, than to have lived to be a 100 and wonder what if. Let's be careful/skillful out there.
When I first was learning to ride I started on a 600cc. Yamaha. I got the bike before I started my MSF course. I knew the instructor and would go out riding with him before my class started( quite a long waiting list/backlog) learning the "friction zone". Also to be geared well and noticable.
One of the first things I had to understand/accept was that everytime I go out on my bike, I may not make it back.
This didn't mean that I was DOOMED if I rode a bike or take foolish chances, just that it was a definate possibility. I got through my MSF class and passed. It was at that time one of the most challanging and intense classes/training I have ever encountered.
There were a few that didn't pass and I don't think even retook the class. Realistically, not everyone is cut out to ride a motorcycle(safely/proficiently enough). Not to say I am any better than any other rider/person, but it does take a skill set that not everyone has. Everytime I gearup for my ride, before I leave I say a prayer, that I make it back. I accept it and try to ride at the best of my abilities(skill and safety). By not doing so I feel that a rider will be too caught up in the what if rather than the what to do(building instinct reactions). Riding a motorcycle(or any other speed sport) is dangerous. So is walking across the street.
Ride with awareness, Ride with Skill and Ride Well.
I would rather have ridden and enjoyed, than to have lived to be a 100 and wonder what if. Let's be careful/skillful out there.
#7
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