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Something to share.....

The difference between driving a car and climbing onto a motorcycle is the difference between watching TV and actually living your life. We spend all our time sealed in boxes, and cars are just the rolling boxes that shuffle us from home-box to work-box to store-box and back, the whole time, entombed in stale air, temperature regulated, sound insulated, and smelling of carpets.

On a motorcycle, I know I am alive. When I ride, even the familiar seems strange and glorious. The air has weight and substance as I push through it, and its touch is as intimate as water to a swimmer. I feel the cool wells of air that pool under trees and the warm spokes of sun that fall through them.

I can see everything in a sweeping 360 degrees, up, down and around, wider than Pan-A-Vision and IMAX and unrestricted by ceiling or dashboard. Sometimes I even hear music. It's like hearing phantom telephones in the shower or false doorbells when vacuuming; the pattern-loving brain, seeking signals in the noise, raises acoustic ghosts out of the wind's roar. But on a motorcycle, I hear whole songs: rock 'n roll, dark orchestras, women's voices, all hidden in the air and released by speed. At 30 miles per hour and up, smells become uncannily vivid. All the individual tree-smells and flower-smells and grass-smells flit by like chemical notes in a great plant symphony. Sometimes the smells evoke memories so strongly that it's as though the past hangs invisible in the air around me, wanting only the most casual of rumbling time machines to unlock it. A ride on a summer afternoon can border on the rapturous. The sheer volume and variety of stimuli is like a bath for my nervous system, an electrical massage for my brain, a systems check for my soul. It tears smiles out of me: a minute ago I was dour, depressed, apathetic, numb, but now, on two wheels, big, ragged, windy smiles flap against the side of my face, billowing out of me like air from a decompressing plane.

Transportation is only a secondary function. A motorcycle is a joy machine. It's a machine of wonders, a metal bird, a motorized prosthetic. It's light and dark and shiny and dirty and warm and cold lapping over each other; it's a conduit of grace, it's a catalyst for bonding the gritty and the holy. I still think of myself as a motorcycle amateur, but by now I've had a handful of bikes over half a dozen years and slept under my share of bridges. I wouldn't trade one second of either the good times or the misery. Learning to ride is one of the best things I've done.

Cars lie to us and tell us we're safe, powerful, and in control. The air-conditioning fans murmur empty assurances and whisper, "Sleep, sleep." Motorcycles tell us a more useful truth: we are small and exposed, and probably moving too fast for our own good, but that's no reason not to enjoy every minute of the ride.

Author
Dave Karlotski

Ride Safe
Dick
 

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I 'll second that!!
 

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Thanks Dick, that helps get through these snowy days.
 

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Thats the best read i have seen in a long time and so true.
 

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Dick,
That is one of the most beautiful descriptions of why we ride that I have ever heard. It states exactly the way I feel when I get on the bike and go for a ride. I frequently use the bike as therapy of a sort. If I am feeling low or stressed I get on the bike and roll out and within a mile or so I experience what you described and suddenly all is right with the world again. I have even been known to get on the bike at 2:30 or 3:00 am, not being able to sleep, and go for a ride to the Morning Call in Metarie for coffee. Kudos to you for expressing it so well. :clap2: :clap2:
 

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8)

Purty good ritin' for a guy who rides a motorsicle. 8)

I only wish I could put my thoughts into somethin' even close to that expressive, here, here. :wink:
 

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Fantastic,

I'm printing it now to hand out copies to people when they ask why I ride so much.
 

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That's a great read Dick.
Thanks for posting it.

However, thinking about it,
if you ever catch yourself actually IN a "two wheeled car"
it's going to be extremely exciting....
at least for those few panic filled moments until it crashes. :lol: :lol: :lol:
DC
 

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Only problem with the Wing is that music you start hearing in nature could actually be the 80 watt sound system blasting out some swinging jazz!

Seriously though, this is a great description - really sums up how I feel about my motorcycling hobby! 8)


Cheers,
Brian
 

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Bill, How did I know you would be theone that knew who did that? Your a nut wearing shoes.

That was some great writing. Can I print that off and tell my wife that I have trying to come up with some thoughts on why I ride so much?
 

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COOL

that brightened up my dreary winters morning,OLE YELLER MBG PA
 

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BigD said:
Something to share.....

The difference between driving a car and climbing onto a motorcycle is the difference between watching TV and actually living your life. We spend all our time sealed in boxes, and cars are just the rolling boxes that shuffle us from home-box to work-box to store-box and back, the whole time, entombed in stale air, temperature regulated, sound insulated, and smelling of carpets.

On a motorcycle, I know I am alive. When I ride, even the familiar seems strange and glorious. The air has weight and substance as I push through it, and its touch is as intimate as water to a swimmer. I feel the cool wells of air that pool under trees and the warm spokes of sun that fall through them.

I can see everything in a sweeping 360 degrees, up, down and around, wider than Pan-A-Vision and IMAX and unrestricted by ceiling or dashboard. Sometimes I even hear music. It's like hearing phantom telephones in the shower or false doorbells when vacuuming; the pattern-loving brain, seeking signals in the noise, raises acoustic ghosts out of the wind's roar. But on a motorcycle, I hear whole songs: rock 'n roll, dark orchestras, women's voices, all hidden in the air and released by speed. At 30 miles per hour and up, smells become uncannily vivid. All the individual tree-smells and flower-smells and grass-smells flit by like chemical notes in a great plant symphony. Sometimes the smells evoke memories so strongly that it's as though the past hangs invisible in the air around me, wanting only the most casual of rumbling time machines to unlock it. A ride on a summer afternoon can border on the rapturous. The sheer volume and variety of stimuli is like a bath for my nervous system, an electrical massage for my brain, a systems check for my soul. It tears smiles out of me: a minute ago I was dour, depressed, apathetic, numb, but now, on two wheels, big, ragged, windy smiles flap against the side of my face, billowing out of me like air from a decompressing plane.

Transportation is only a secondary function. A motorcycle is a joy machine. It's a machine of wonders, a metal bird, a motorized prosthetic. It's light and dark and shiny and dirty and warm and cold lapping over each other; it's a conduit of grace, it's a catalyst for bonding the gritty and the holy. I still think of myself as a motorcycle amateur, but by now I've had a handful of bikes over half a dozen years and slept under my share of bridges. I wouldn't trade one second of either the good times or the misery. Learning to ride is one of the best things I've done.

Cars lie to us and tell us we're safe, powerful, and in control. The air-conditioning fans murmur empty assurances and whisper, "Sleep, sleep." Motorcycles tell us a more useful truth: we are small and exposed, and probably moving too fast for our own good, but that's no reason not to enjoy every minute of the ride.

Author unknown...

Ride Safe
Dick
What a wonderful read. :D :D :D :D

The only thing I would add is you drive a car,-you ride a bike. You become part of the experience on a bike. When it it rains you get wet, when it's windy you are blown, when you ride by a trash dump -you smell the stink, when you ride by the ocean you smell the sea. I ride, listen to the music, smell the odors, feel the wind and rain and become part of the ride. I love to ride bikes, I don't want a bluetooth phone ringing in my ear-I use the bike to relax and to get away from work.

When I ride bikes nothing else is going on in my mind but the riding experience.

RIDE SAFE :D
 

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Toyo said:
Bill, How did I know you would be the one that knew who did that?
On account of I is one of three peoples that you knows what can read.

Brilliant piece. There's a visceral grittiness that you can feel everywhere in your body and the images pop into your mind's eye.
 

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I enjoyed that but...
if your dashboard blocks your view you got problems and if you don't think you can have many of the same feelings in a car then hang it up you probably cannot enjoy your motorcycle either :lol:
 

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BrianGorrell said:
Only problem with the Wing is that music you start hearing in nature could actually be the 80 watt sound system
Make that 40 Watts for us pre-2006-ers. :mrgreen: (that is green with envy)

I watch a lot of TV, so I am glad my motorcyles balance me out. :D

Herb
 
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