Andrew Lynn
by on November 27, 2018
I have just bought a motorcycle. Meaning that I've pretty much spent the past fortnight on a bike, considering a bike, fixing a bike, almost crashing a bike, gazing longingly at a motorcycle and pushing a deceased bike around a parking garage looking for a jump. I could try to provide you some helpful advice here, such as"Do not take the Motorcycle Safety Course with a psychologist," or"When the float elf tells you to'ramp that shit,' do not listen that's only the fever talking." But that material is most likely pretty obvious to most of you, and if it's not, consider listening to the elf a couple of times; some courses you can only learn from mistakes. So instead, I'm going to tell you about a few very clear fundamentals that, frankly, any fool could figure out,but nobody seemed to mention into this specific idiot before he got himself into this mess. 1.We go too fast A couple of motorcyclists just read that heading and believed something like"Fuck yeah, we all go too fast! We are daredevils, bro.You suckers can keep your cages, we are free." (Yes, some bikers refer to cars as"cages," because literally everything has its own embarrassing elitist jerks.) But I am not discussing the reckless pace of dudes without enough brain cells to comprehend mortality. I meant exactly what I said:"We all go way too quickly." First, let me say this: I'm not a wizened old hand at this motorcycling business (by way of instance, I refer to it as"motorcycling company"), so far I spend the majority of my bike time wobbling into a terrified stop following each pothole. However, my limited experience atop a bike has taught me a valuable lesson already, and it's this: All of us every human being alive now are traveling manner, way quicker than we have any right . And I really don't mean"We are in too much of a hurry," like it is some symptom of our modern world; I'm saying that, since the coming of the engine, humankind has always flitted about at a ridiculously incomprehensible speed. It's only that we're eliminated from it in our cars: They are aerodynamic and sound-proof and shock absorbing and shut off from all external stimulation to make commuting an isolated and relaxing experience. 2.Other driver's hate you. You've probably heard that expression before, or something like this:"Drive like they're out for you," your drunken, paranoid uncle might have told you, right before he took you out for"driving lessons" that always seemed to start at the same bar and end at his property. However, I mean it literally here: If you ride a bike, another driver on the road despises you. As soon as you put buttocks to aerodynamic cycle, you become Unclean. I really don't know if it is something in the sensed picture that mounting a slightly narrower than normal vehicle makes you more of a guy, or even a tough man, or even a reckless daredevil, but visitors hates motorcycles. Other motorists may tailgate the crap from you, irrespective of your speed, and that is kind of a larger deal when,y'know, you don't have a tail or a gate. So there is a several-ton steel box travel longer than fast enough to smash you to death at a nanosecond, and its operator has determined his safe stopping distance is"up your asshole." And there's no way to make him back off, either. He is comfortable there, inside the asshole; he shows no signs of going. He is going to generate a life up in your colon hell, he's already planting a garden and having his mail forwarded there, so you better get used to him. 3.Wearing protective gear I heard that motorcycle apparel consisted of motorcycle jeans, rider jackets and a helmet. Go figure. Sure, the occasional sport-bike rider would rate by in an elaborate strappy number with jagged stripes, names and stains everywhere, however I believed it was mostly a style item. Hey, some dudes wear Tap out tops on purpose; there's no accounting for taste. Then, doing the research, I discovered that you are supposed to have actual riding equipment designed for this purpose. And I will tell you that it is all just too uncomfortable, constricting and awkward-looking as you would expect. And that it is also totally badass. Motorcycle protective gear is, by definition, insanely durable. Jackets, motorbike pants, bags and damn near every other sort of clothing is made from the toughest fabrics in the world: Kevlar, Cordura, ballistic nylon — that is shit that, when styled correctly, stops bullets and knives. That's not to mention the thick, padded gauntlets with carbon fiber knuckles meant to withstand crashes in highway speeds and impenetrable leather boots using oil-resistant non-slip soles. And beyond all that, there are pads, inserts and plates concealed all throughout the fabric to guard your important joints and body parts. For more nerdily inclined among you, you're probably already getting it. It's not"security gear," it's fucking armor. However, you walk in there in motorcycle clothing and, based on how far the other customers wish to knock off their dad, you are either a responsible commuter or a stunt that is naughty simply waiting for a sexy coup. I don't have any idea why I didn't understand this why each bike rider was not constantly daring me to hit on them (seriously, hit me, men! It's wonderful!) And laughing as my blows rain from the helmets. I have no idea why zombie movies even exist , because they sell complete matches of bite-proof armor in the local auto parts shop. 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