April 26, 2012

Riding Popularity

Driving to work the other day, jammed into the heart of a metal mass called rush hour, I glared at the idiot sheeple around me who were either driving too fast and recklessly or not driving fast enough and recklessly. Stay off the bleeping cell phone, will ya?!

This was when I realized that I really wanted nothing more than to go the other way. Any other way! I wanted to break free of the mindset that a 9-5 job is expected, acceptable, and satisfying. I wanted to escape the herd mentality that so often dictates what we do or how we act even when we’re not aware of it, like cramming together on a freeway exit ramp in a noxious queue as we funnel to our various employment prisons downtown.

I wanted to stop being just another sheeple, even if I consider myself to be a fringe sheeple, hanging by myself out on the edge. I’m still just another member of the herd.

This is when I had the epiphany that crowds, the masses, the majority, are not always wisest nor correct. Sure, they may get some things right from time to time, but it’s usually for the wrong reasons.

Take motorcycles, for instance.

A few weekends ago I officially joined the millions of motorcyclists who ride cruisers. I am now the proud owner of a big, shiny, loud, and very comfortable cruiser. No more crotch rockets for me; my new bike is a joy to ride without cramming into a fetal crouch like all the sportbikes haunting my past. And now I get why people ride cruisers. Now I understand why these things are so popular.

Well, in reality they’re popular because they’re popular, kinda like how the Kardashians continue to exist in their slim sliver of self-promoting presence despite adding no perceived value to society. These motorcycles – most people think they’re all Harleys and Harley-Davidson would love it if they all were – are popular because everyone thinks they’re cool. And they are, but the reality of the situation is that they’re also good as basic motorcycles. And this adeptness is the real secret, the real foundation to their popularity.

At some moment a tipping point came around and a critical mass of people figured out that these motorcycles were comfortable and fun to ride. The movement began to build like a snowball rolling downhill, and then it steamrolled into a “thing”. Popularity, the gravity and snow pack that helped build the snowball’s size, created a movement, if you will. And now everyone rides big, comfortable cruisers.

Or maybe that’s just how it happened for me.

Regardless, I’ve opened a new chapter in my motorcycling life. I’ve turned a corner and become a slightly different person. I’ve matured as a motorcyclist. I’ve been slowing down for years, which if you’re not racing motorcycles professionally is a good thing. At some point I realized that I was no longer suited for sportbikes. Or perhaps it was more that they were not suited for me, with their tortuous riding positions that required regular chiropractic visits in order to resume walking upright once the ride was done. All this self-induced suffering was done in the name of streamlined, speed-focused, aerodynamic performance coolness.

I’ve always ridden bikes of this ilk, seduced by their standing-still illusions of speed, although I usually – as is my personality – tended towards bikes outside the mass-focused middle, bikes better suited on the fringes with slightly obtuse designs and marginally better seats, bikes that weren’t mass produced to replicate the racing bikes tearing up the tracks.

Regardless, I still called myself a sportbike guy, not a cruiser guy. I practically scoffed at the slovenly performance of all cruisers. What were they good for? They were infinitely soft and slow, loaded down with shininess and chrome that demanded to be kept sparkling and clean at the expense of time spent rolling along the highway. What a pain in the ass! Where was the lung crushing performance? Where was the blinding, eye watering speed? Where was the razor sharp, adrenaline-charged handling? Cruisers were merely rolling couches! What was the point?!

And then I turned forty.

Sportbikes suddenly seemed like a younger man’s ride. Immature, even. And although forty no longer felt young, and it certainly wasn’t old, it wasn't like being eighteen again, with full flexibility in all joints and muscle groups. I soon realized was no longer a younger man. My back constantly reminded me of this fact every time I exited my own sportbike. And all those years spent carving up corners and blasting down back roads and stampeding along straightaways, trying to attack the road like it was a wild animal to be tamed with the technological tool I rode like a brazen, snorting, ferocious cavalry charger, were suddenly behind me now.

It was like I woke up and suddenly fell back in love with the pure joy in the simplicity of a ride. The focus shifted from technical racing prowess to just cruising along, going from point A to point X in no particular hurry. I once again learned to enjoy the travel along the way. It was a very zen-like activity and it became one of the few joys in my life that wasn’t also a generally frowned upon vice, like smoking or drinking or gambling or prostitutes.

So I finally bought a bike to match my new temperament. And I appreciate the bike I chose for reasons beyond mere popularity. The masses choose things for popularity’s sake, and many times these are NOT the best ideas. Take high heeled shoes, for example. But I chose this bike because of it’s general simplicity, comfort, and – yes – for it’s good looks. Yes, beauty will always be a factor in the choosing any motorcycle.

So I’ve joined the Harley-esque cruiser herd, but I don’t consider myself to be a leather-clad biker sheeple. I haven’t yet bought any leather chaps or a chained wallet.

Yet.


Wondering how my ass would look in a pair of ass-less leather chaps!