Tuesday, February 24, 2015

Can't Relate

On a rare occasion I am tempted to pick up a motorcycle magazine while over-paying for groceries. Contained within these pornographically slick and glossy periodicals are predominantly ads telling me precisely which type of motorcycle I need to purchase and then all the wonderful and pricey accessories I need to outfit my new ride.

Along with that are various sorts of gear I need to complete my biker costume, depending on which type of motorcyclist I wish to become: A chrome storm trooper helmeted thug terrorizing tourists? A Sons of Anarchy gang member? A wheelie poppin' stuntah? A Ton-up boy straight from the Ace? A snooty Ducati-phile who bleeds red and understands arcane valve-train designs? The possibilities are as endless as your bankroll is large.

I never saw a motorcycle as something you needed to take out a loan for, an appliance waiting for you to turn it on like your LCD TV except that it has to be taken to some dealership for an oil change. They were desires your skrimped and saved to buy from someone else, sold off other possessions in order to have, wheeled and dealed. And sometimes, when the dream was finally realized and you had the machine, it did not live up to your expectations. It broke down, handled poorly, didn't look as nice as you originally thought. So you fixed it, made it handle and look as good as you could, and you did it yourself, because you sure couldn't afford to pay some dealership to do it. Every scratch in the paint had a story and a corresponding scar on your body to go with it, leather became distressed from wearing it and tassels and rhinestones were for horse saddles. We were too busy riding and wrenching and working to pay for our passions to be concerned with the image we presented to those who didn't matter.

I am not interested in articles about motorcycles I can't afford and will never ride. Who can pay $1,500 for an exhaust system? $800 for a helmet? Most of my bikes didn't cost $800. I have no desire to read the musings of semi-literate magazine hot-shoes waxing poetic about the increased edge grip at maximum lean angle of the new Black&Round SuperStick tires or the 1 HP gain at 20k rpms from the $hinyLoud brand exhaust pipe. That's why I avoid motorcycle publications like the plague. Maybe I'm just getting older. Get off my damn lawn you kids.

Choose your fanta$$y

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