I recently decided that I was going to do what I’ve wanted to do forever*: buy a motorcycle. Took a MSF starter class, got the endorsement, and started shopping. Finally brought home a shiny little Ninja 300, because cruisers and dirt bikes just aren’t my thing. So far, I’ve basically been riding it around my neighborhood and along the five mile commute to work, doing my best to avoid any overly-stressful situations (multiple lanes, speed limits over 40 mph, heavy traffic, etc.), and I’m loving it. The bike is big enough to handle freeways, but I won’t be getting it much into triple digits, even if I wanted to (and I really don’t).
Am I nuts for giggling like a little kid riding down the road at 35 mph?
I suspect motorcycles are cheaper, safer, and certainly in the long run, more fun than getting a mistress. I wouldn’t mind getting one (the bike), but money and parking space prevent that. I’m still jealous, though.
Finding a parking space for the mistress can be challenging too. Just make sure to pick one with the same first name as your wife. Avoids embarrassing faux pax.
If she gives you too much flak, just buy a fat life insurance policy on you payable to her and tell her you refuse to ride with a helmet. I’m told that hushes up a lot of complainers. Might work for yours.
I’ve wanted a motorcycle for years, too. First my wife said I had to get a good life insurance policy, which I did. I’m worth more dead than alive at this point. (Not really, but close.)
Then she moved the goalposts and said I still couldn’t get one, threatening divorce if I did. I don’t usually believe her when she says this, but she seems pretty serious in this instance. Did I mention that she’s a registered nurse? Every time I bring up motorcycles she tells me about the brain-damaged kid she kept alive with his head covered so that they could harvest his organs for donation.
My mother is a physical therapist who used to treat burn victims—including ones from motorcycle accidents—so she chimes in on my wife’s side as well.
If I ever do get divorced, the first thing I’m going to do is to get a motorcycle.
P.S. What I did instead for my mid-life crisis was to take up downhill skiing, starting in my mid- to late-40s. I went from the bunny hill on beginner skis at the local family mountain to black diamonds (and even a few double-blacks) at the big ski resorts over the course of the last five years. Last season I skied 28 days before the slopes shut down due to COVID, at a dozen or so ski resorts in Vermont, New Hampshire, Maine, Utah and British Columbia.
P.P.S. I also took up scuba diving at about the same time five years ago, diving all over the Caribbean and Hawaii. I’d do this more if I could, but have no desire to dive in non-tropical waters.
It makes me think of the Dope’s own Santo Rugger. Good poster. Miss the guy. He took a very long time to die.
Life’s not meant to be lived huddled in your basement bunker. Take care, be cognizant of the risks, try to ameliorate the ones you can, and have fun. I’ve wanted a private pilot’s license as long as I can remember, and an IFR rating not long after that. Risk per hour is ballpark comparable. Soon.
I understand why your wife is reticent. The road rash cases strike me as really visceral, and more horrifying than the head injuries. Which is silly, but that’s how horror works.
Anyone in mid-life crisis and needing a new adventure might also take up soaring. Just search YouTube for videos of “soaring”, “gliders”, or “sailplanes” and you’ll find plenty, even including some videos of glider aerobatics! You might even find the one starring me!
(ETA: There are no guarantees in life, or to life. Even soaring has its occasional boo-boos. Three glider pilots I’ve known have died in crashes, one of them a fiery crash while flying the towplane. :shudder:)
I’m in Sooper-Dooper Quarantine, so I’m assuaging my Mid-Life Crises by reading (and watching videos) about sports cars, motorcycles, and those “Flying Squirrel” wing suits (I’m mentally gliding from Mürren down to Lauterbrunnen, Switzerland tonight…).
Oh, and tomorrow I’m trying out Peugeot’s new cycle built by Mahindra, then test driving the new Toyota Supra, comparing it to a vintage MR2 on the test track in Nürburgring, Germany.
As an update, my baby got dropped for the first time tonight. Stopped. At a stop sign. In front of my house. Just a plain oops, a quick “Yep, it’s going down”, and an easy guide down to the pavement. No injuries to myself, but bent the shift lever over the linkage. Had to walk it half a block to my garage, take the offending part off, and beat it back into submission/shape. It will work for now, but I’ll probably pick up a new one in the coming days.
Also took myself far out of my comfort zone for my first real highway ride. Oh, and the highways in the surrounding countryside generally have a 65 mph speed limit, so that was a thing. Got to experience higher speeds, some wet pavement, and getting completely lost multiple times - including an interesting detour all around a new housing development. That was fun, but the wind at those speeds is a completely different animal. Had to do it sooner or later, and I’d rather my first ride in those conditions were voluntary versus some freak emergency.
Transcript of actual conversation a few years ago, at the marina.
Guy: “Pullin, how in hell did you get your wife to agree to that boat?”
Me; “I told her I wanted an airplane. Scaling back to a boat was easy after that.”
(Not really, but close.)
