This is one of my favorite pictures of myself. It is not a particularly good (or crisp) shot, but it epitomizes something I am really glad I did. I took this picture myself during my motorcycle journey from Nashville to DC and back last October. This picture was taken at a pull off spot on a famously curvy road in the Smokey Mountains.
There is nothing like the feeling of the open road on a motorcycle. Truth be told, a large part of that feeling is the danger involved. As I was cruising through mountain roads with everything I needed strapped to my bike, I felt like an original bad ass. Camping instead of staying in hotels felt old school and authentic. Waking up freezing cold in the mountains and lighting a fire to brew some coffee is an amazing feeling with or without leather chaps. All in all, it was a phenomenal experience and I am really grateful I have this lone picture as a memento.
The thing is, I was also scared shitless most of the time. The thrill of the open road has everything to do with the fear of hitting the open pavement with your face. I am not a big guy and I was not a particularly experienced rider, but I was on some of the most challenging roads in the country on a 700 pound motorcycle that was laden down with top heavy gear. There is safety in numbers and I was riding alone. I was coping with a quarter-life crisis by pretending to be the fictionalized James Dean. And it felt great.
Luckily, I survived. Many people don’t. I just read an article on CNN about how motorcycles have killed more Marines in 2008 than the war in Iraq. Many people reading this probably also know that a prominent member of the Nashville Geek community was injured in a motorcycle wreck last week. He is lucky to be alive!
As much as I find motorcycles thrilling and cool, it is just not worth it. I have hung up the motorcycle boots and resigned to the fact that I will never ride a motorcycle again. It is something I have known for a while, but not quite wanted to admit to myself. The thing is, it is just not worth the risk; it never was.
I didn’t ride much after that trip last year. Partially because winter came, but it was also because those mountain roads helped me understand more clearly the risks I was taking. I knew the mountain roads were dangerous, but once I got back home to the city I started to realize that Gallatin Road is much more dangerous than The Tail of the Dragon.
In January of this year I traded in my bike and bought a used truck. On a cool weekend evening I rode my 2003 Anniversary Edition Harley Davidson Fat Boy one last time. As I was riding to the dealer on a trafficless night I was struck with the irony of Jean-Paul Sarté and how that 2 mile ride was the most risky one I had ever taken. It seemed like I had beaten the odds long enough and that it was almost certain that I would crash and burn. Luckily I didn’t.
As I signed over the title I knew I should never get on a motorcycle again, but I was not ready to make that commitment. It has taken 10 months, but the internal conflict has been resolved.
I am not afraid of risk, but the risk / reward ratio must be worth it. Motorcycles are not worth the risk.
