I’ve never been on a motorcycle. Why? Well, in answering that, Im reminded of a line from Spaceballs: “It’s not that we’re afraid, far from it, it’s just that we’ve got this thing about death… It’s not us!” Except… I am afraid. I am afraid of motorcycles because they are death machines. I’ve been reading about sports a pretty long time now, and I’m pretty sure every time an athlete has ever stepped on one, they’ve suffered some sort of horrible injury that they’ve needed to invent a lie to cover up, because their teams didn’t want them riding motorcycles either. (Again: death machines.)
And if I’ve never so much as been on a motorcycle, you can be damn sure I’ve never raced one. One metallic above-ground coffin is enough. A bunch of them in one place? You’re asking for trouble. And at one recent race, trouble was found:
How that wasn’t even worse trouble, I might never know. But I’m glad it wasn’t, because did you SEE that?! Maybe it was pure luck, maybe the driver decelerating very quickly (and not just because he was slowed down by hitting another human) saved the day, but at least in this case, a motorcycle didn’t lead to the creation of an accidental snuff film. It’s almost enough to wonder: if that can happen and the guy is okay, are motorcycles less dangerous than they look?
And when you have that thought, you must RESIST. This is exactly what the motorcycles want you to think. Oh, you didn’t think they had minds of their own? Go right on thinking that. You’ll regret it one day.