Should I buy a motorcycle?

Posted by on Oct 6, 2017 in Automobile Acidents | 0 comments

Am I the kind of guy who could pull off riding a motorcycle?
That’s the question I’m asking myself these days. Do I have it in me to be a rugged road warrior? Can I look good in black leather? Would I be willing to grow a paunch, get a Mom tattoo, grow an unreasonable beard and snarl at my fellow roadsters?

I’m looking to make a change in my life right now, something big. To date, nothing about me even whispers (let alone screams) “rebel.” I’ve never been a “take life by the haunches” sort of person. In fact, I’m the opposite. I’m careful. I got a good degree in school, and I worked almost full-time and put all my money towards my degree, so while m friends complain about the weight of student loan debts, I am debt free, because I’m careful.

Of course, those debt-ridden friends also spent time at parties and abroad and have low-paying put interesting jobs while I’m an accountant in a job I don’t despise, per se, but one which I have little actual interest in.

So, who made the better life choices here? I think the traditional choice would be me, the careful guy over here. I could be on a poster for mature life decisions at an early age. Now I’m approaching my mid-thirties, sometime in which I will official reach my middle expected age, I begin to question whether all that’s true.

Would I rather have my comfortable house and my comfortable car and my well-rated mortgage with little other debt to keep me up at night? Or would I rather have spent my twenties traveling, “finding myself,” and become a ballet dancer or joined a circus or something? What I’m missing in my well-ordered life is that spark of something crazy and daring, that moment when you run away from yourself just to turn around and take a good and proper look at what you left behind and what’s worth going back to and what’s best to leave forever.

I never did that. I wish I had.

Unfortunately, I’m not sure I have it in me. I certainly don’t have it in me to drop everything I have now and really change my life. I am as much a prisoner as an architect of my comfort now. I like it too much to risk it. I won’t quit my job. I won’t fly off for six months to Europe. (My God, the expense, I think to myself, and all those languages you don’t know! Then I faint.)

So, I’ve settled on the motorcycle. It’s like buying rebellion on the cheap. Just a leather jacket and a hog (are they all hogs? are some of them piglets?), and I’m transformed into someone with a more tolerable threshold for the carefree.

But then, I start thinking of the risk. The high number of accidents. The chance for injury at every turn.

Do I really have it in me? And even if I could get myself to buy one, won’t I just look like a fraud?

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