Got an e-mail from a friend today; a Chicago Tribune article telling about how the author sold his motorcycle.

Because they are dangerous and you could die by riding one.

Really?

The e-mail was much longer than that of course, and well written, with lovely colorful descriptions of a motorcycle accident you could pull out of any newspaper on any given month. The author's point, near as I can tell, boils down to this line: "...at least I won't die on a motorcycle."

Hmm. Sold his motorcycle because then he won't die on one. That makes some kind of sense.

But I'm wondering if he also sold his car so that he would not die in a car crash? Did he also sell his home so he would not die in a house fire? Did he give up fast food and simple carbs and Evil White Bread...?

Probably not.

My take on the article was that the author was becoming more and more concerned about dying as he got older, and getting rid of the motorcycle was simply making him better odds. I can respect that. Motorcycling is a hobby (unless you are counting it as a cheap mode of transportation) and if it isn't enjoyable to you anymore, then you should sell your bike. But don't call the kid you sold it to 'dumb' just because you're a coward.

Personally, I would much rather die in a fiery explosion of gasoline and metal shrapnel, my last words being ones my mother would not approve of, than to die of a heart attack muttering feeble prayers of forgiveness for all those years of not going to church. Closed casket, definitely.

Maybe someday I will change my mind and decide my reflexes aren't what they used to be, or perhaps a near-miss close enough to make me wet myself will give me a new perspective. Regardless, if I hand my motorcycle over to someone else, I won't write a story about how stupid and dangerous it is to ride one...

Blog on,
-CZ

PS: (Is White Bread still Evil? What about Eggs? I never keep up with the food fashion trends...)

Labels: A Day In The Life, idiots