HOW TO RIDE A MOTORCYCLE

I feel it’s well past the time this was written. And I know there will be some brow-furrowing. The mouth-breathers will immediately start to drool their outrage, and you know what?

I do not give the smallest of fucks. The field where such things might be grown is utterly fallow. I salted it a long time ago. Nothing grows there. How fallow, you ask? Imagine a uterus hanging on a branch and drying the sun.

Nonetheless, some people simply need to be told. If their brains explode and their tiddly little feelings are hurt, then that is a matter for them, is it not? You pieces of shit have been polluting my beloved motorcycling for too long without consequences. And that is my fault. I have told you before, but I have clearly not told you often enough. See? I am not blameless in this. My shame in this regard is real. And it’s not you, it’s my personal shame I give a fuck about, and these are your consequences, which is what you get for being a clueless fuck.

So, there are three types of motorcycle riders in this paradigm.

There are the ones who know how to ride. I have nothing for you kings. It would be presumptuous of me to tell you what you already know. Still, because you are decent person, you may wish to share the wisdom I will shortly offer with the other two types of motorcyclists. Or you may decide “Fuck them. Let them bleed and die, for they deserve nothing better.” I am good with it either way.

Then there are the motorcyclists who genuinely do not know how to ride. I make the assumption they wish to learn, and that is a fair assumption to make. Like, why would you go and buy a fucken motorcycle and NOT wish to know how to ride it?

There are two sub-sets in this group. The young and ignorant, and the old and ignorant. The old ones will tend to absorb the wisdom I wish to impart better than the young ones because their age provides them with a perspective the young ones do not yet have. The old ones will acknowledge they may actually NOT know how to ride a bike, but they want to very badly, and will make concrete steps in that direction. They wish to be les ignorant, and that is admirable.

This does not apply to the young ones. They take pride in their ignorance. They are of the firm view old people can get righteously fucked, primarily because they are old and are unable to relate to the struggles of youth. They also feel they are entitled to a bunch of shit – like respect, an opinion, emotional and spiritual fulfilment, and an assortment of hokey bullfuckery they picked up in school.

And they were likely raised by women in an environment that catered to their feelings, awarded them prizes for simply existing, and fostered in them, via their addiction to the echo chamber of social media, the belief they can safely do whatever they please.

They think this because they have been raised eagerly slurping the Mighty Cock of Safety while another Mighty Cock of Safety is jackhammering their anuses unto lung-depth. So, they are filled with cock, they know everything and nothing can go wrong, and shut-up, old man.

And then there’s the third group of motorcyclists. This is the worst group in the whole world. I would poison the fuckers. They’re unworthy of an honourable death. And I would hope, as their organs melt and they writhe in splendid agony, some last-minute clarity would find its way into their liquifying brains. I’m all about, hope, me.

So, this group THINKS they know how to ride. It actually believes this as an article of faith. They have ridden a lot, or what they imagine is a lot, they have not really had an oopsie – or if they did have an oopsie, it wasn’t a bad one. These are the shit-gibbons who think their passive safety gear will protect them – which is just another article of their faith. And we all know faith is just a belief not based on any proof. Yes, just exactly like the whole Jesus thing.

So armed with that faith, and nothing but that faith, these shit-gibbons venture onto our roads astride motorcycles they think they can ride. They speak loud and often about “safety” and so enjoy the taste of the previously mentioned Mighty Cock of Safety, and they demand everyone else puts at least one in their mouth as well. Yes, these are the very fuckers that tell other motorcyclists to “Ride safe!”

They have all the gear. They have all the faith. But what they do not have is skill. And the former two do not at all make up for the latter.

Now that we have established who is who in this zoo, we come to the part where some very basic wisdom needs to be rammed, entirely unlubed and spiky, into the very holes where the Mighty Cocks of Safety have abided for too long.

So how is a motorcycle to be ridden?

There is only one way a motorcycle should be ridden, and that is well. It is to be ridden well. It must be ridden well, or it should not be fucken ridden at all. You are never safer on a bike than when you are riding it well. You are never having a better time on a bike than when you are riding well.

See also

Esoterica

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TALES FROM THE GREEN HOUSE – DAY OF EVIL –  PART ONE

4 December 20212

You must ride well all the time or you will die. If you’re lucky. If you’re unlucky, you get to be maimed. And when you’re asking yourself why you now have to shit in a bag, paint with your mouth, or just lay on a bed staring emptily at a ceiling until a relative takes pity on you and puts a pillow over your expressionless idiot face, you will know the answer to that is: “I did not ride well…”

It was not the car, or the road, or the corner, you fucken dumb mutt. It was you not riding well. If you’re nervous, or frightened, or hesitant, or stupid, or a combination of any of those things when you’re riding a bike, you need to fuck off, or you need to deal with those issues.

“But how does one ride well?” you ask. Good question. The fact you’ve asked it demonstrates a desire to learn and to know, and to grow as a motorcyclist. I get it. Being a clueless piece of shit is tiresome. I know this because I was once just that. But I made it my business, because I loved riding motorcycles more than anything, to accumulate all the clues I could get. I am still acquiring them. It is an ongoing thing.

One rides well by burning with the desire to ride well. To the exclusion of all else. You will never ride well if all riding is for you is a hobby, or something you do now and again. Yes, there is a science to it, and you should do all the courses that can be done. And you should do them even if you’ve already done them. Done road courses? Go do some dirt courses.

Ride, ride, and fucken ride some more. Ride in all weathers and on all kinds of surfaces. Ride by yourself, ride with others, just fucken ride, and when you ride, push yourself to ride better. Do not be a bitch and stop thinking about the Mighty Cock of Safety, and how it tastes and feels. And how used to it you are.

Motorcycling is dangerous. It is meant to be dangerous. Who the fuck does it because it’s safe? Who took it up because it was safe? Did your mother’s anguished tears mean nothing to you?

Dangerous shit has consequences when you fuck it up. Bad ones. But if you’re doing dangerous shit well (because you love doing dangerous shit and you take pride in doing it well), then dangerous shit is the greatest shit you can ever be doing. That is its nature.

And that is the nature of motorcycling – and that is how motorcycles should and must be ridden. Stop doing it wrong and do it well. Or just fuck off.