June 27: The time has come to consider ending it all. I don’t mean this in the throw-a-rope-over-a-beam way, but I feel that I do need to consider abandoning motorcycling.
I rode for 2 years starting when I was 16. I then sold that bike to pay for school tuition and
didn’t ride again until I was 28, so I’ve ridden for 40 years and have the scars to prove it. I’ve ridden everything from a Yamaha 100 Twin Jet up to a Yamaha FJ1100 upon which I rode the Peterson Road north of Wilberforce at a steady 140 km/h. My current bike is a Honda VFR 800 with 104,000 kilometers on it. I’ve ridden it to Maine at least 4 times; to the Cabot Trail once; to New York, Pennsylvania and Ohio more times than I can count. I’ve ridden in Europe three times including last year. My trip there with Melinda on a BMW 750 K to celebrate my 50th birthday still ranks as one of the best holidays I’ve had. All of this is to say that I don’t feel I have anything left to prove.
Yet there is a lot to lose and the cost / benefit equation seems to be shifting to less positive territory. Motorcycling is by nature a dangerous pastime. That’s part of what makes it exciting. While some of the danger can be mitigated by the right equipment and experience, I ride less often than in the past, so I feel that my skill set is subtly declining. Aging eyes and slowing reflexes don’t help.
I know from experience that it now takes far longer to recover from injuries. Minor injuries can become hugely inconvenient, but a more significant injury might be debilitating. As a friend said: “I’m not worried about dying on a bike. I’m worried about not dying; being seriously hurt and becoming a long term problem for my family.” I couldn’t stand being in a place where I was forcing others to provide me with care.
My riding friends are intent on riding until they drop – presumably from non-motorcycle related causes. One suggests that riding a bike “too fast” is a way to stave off Alzheimer’s. Having a passion for something gives us a reason to live, and motorcycling is nothing if not a passion. Motorcycling is part of who I am; part of my character. While the motorcyclist in me might feel a smug satisfaction to dying at age 83 in a flaming bike wreck in the south of France, we can’t necessarily pick the time and circumstances of our passing to suit the narrative we construct for our lives.
And so I have a conundrum: does the potential cost – monetary or mortal – outweigh the psychological and adrenalin – producing benefits to riding ? I’m no longer sure. That said, there was something about the bike trip last year that has me thinking long and hard about doing it again next year. So in the best case scenario (best or worst depends on your perspective), I would have to say that the jury is still out. And the rope remains in the basement…..