I have a unhealthy love for motorcycles, which is pretty well documented. We can probably blame it on my dad, who bought me my first motorcycle when I was just a kid. A beat up 125cc Yamaha that was easily my most treasured possession until it was replaced by the next dirt bike. Dirt biking was probably my first real hobby, and while I never became a professional on them, I would venture to say just being able to keep up with my dad, uncle, and the rest of that ragtag group meant I was pretty decent on them. That dirt bike brought my dad and I closer than practically any other form of communication we had tried. After that I got my first road-bike, a 883cc Harley Sportster Custom that I rode so often that I sold my only car and survived on that bike alone. Every day I was happy to not be locked in a car. Bad day at the armory? Didn't matter because I had a 30 minute ride home on my bike. Hard to get home still angry about work when you are riding through Southern California. Perfect weather almost every day, the Pacific stretching off into the distance, and beautiful women crossing at nearly every stop light. Can't even complain about hitting a red light in that situation.
I dumped probably around $10k into that bike, converting her to a 1200cc motor with a hot cam, racing clutch, top of the line carburetor, beautiful performance exhaust, and just about every other suggestion my bike shop had (Ghetto Choppers if anyone in the area is looking for a great shop) to make her go faster. Did that make me treat her delicately? Not even a little bit. Every stop light was a test to see how fast I could get to (maybe a little over) the speed limit. Every turn was a test to see how hard and fast I could take it, at the expense of bending my fancy new exhaust and tearing up my footpegs. When I was instructed to bring machine gun parts out to a desert training event, there was 50cal bolts strapped to the back of that little Sportster and we were slipping and sliding through the sand. I slept next to her for the rest of that event as we both got covered in dirt and sand.
Now I have Sofia which is well above my price range. A $20k+ bike for a broke college student is an exceptionally bad decision, but I don't care if I am reduced to selling plasma and my own tears, I'll make it work.
On to the point of this topic When I was younger, I tried to get everyone on a motorcycle. I wanted everyone to experience what I was feeling. But now that I am older, and have lost some friends along the way, I do my best to avoid doing that. That is because no matter what precautions you are taking, and how good of a rider you are, it is an extremely dangerous sport. Back when I was in the USMC, motorcycles were easily killing more Marines than the wars were. They ended up restricting us in various ways which pissed a lot of people off (me included), but what choice did they really have? They were losing men and women they needed, in the prime of their lives, to motorcycles.
Part of that can be attributed to Marine mentality. We are bulletproof and unbreakable, and we believe that until we get broken. But even Marines who absolutely knew the risks were going down. We had a Staff Sergeant that it hurts me to not remember his name, but he was an exceptionally skilled rider. He was an instructor in our safety course, spent almost every day teaching Marines about the risks of riding. He had numerous motorcycle safety certifications, and years and years of riding under his belt. During a Mess Night for our battalion, we were all having fun and drinking and smoking cigars and wondering when he was going to show, and we finally got the report in that he was on his way, and got broadsided by someone running a red light and died at the scene.
It isn't limited to Marines of course. Dan Horner was one of the nicest, most giving men I have ever known. He practically raised us misfit idiots working with him at the shop we were at. Cooled down the hot heads, smacked around the jackasses (I was in this group), and taught us what it was to be a man. His funeral was the only leave I ever requested from the USMC, after he was hit on his motorcycle late at night. I remember us sitting outside with his Harley. Him telling me that a man needs at least one refuge in his life, and his bike was his. There isn't a day I get on a motorcycle and don't think back to him.
So now I don't try and convince people into riding. I don't want to bear that responsibility, and I think it is a decision that should be thought of carefully. Not with someone else who isn't going to be affected by your risks. There is benefits to riding. A lot of free parking you wouldn't get otherwise. Gas mileage is almost unmatched by other vehicles. I am practically the only one who gets assigned parking where I live because no car can fit in the spot I use. But these little consultation prizes do not make up for the risk you are taking. I don't have the hard numbers to back it up, but I am pretty sure I could smoke 2 packs of cigarettes a day, eat nothing but fast food, and take up amateur sword swallowing/break-dancing, and my motorcycle will still have the best odds of killing me first.
Of course, considering I still ride I am not campaigning against motorcycles. But the decision needs to be made with an honest assessment of the facts. If you have a family or other people who rely on you, they should be part of that decision too. And really, you probably won't like it. Of all the people I know who started riding, probably at least 2/3rds of them quit at some point because they weren't getting out of it the risk they were putting in. There is a lot of crappy parts about riding that gets glossed over. Getting caught out in the rain, or worse weather. Getting to huff exhaust. Riding behind a work truck and getting showered with sand going 70mph. Tasting the windshield washing fluid from the car in front of you that just activated it. Your gear being too heavy and showing up to your destination covered in sweat. Your gear being too light and not being able to feel your hands or feet due to the cold. Being tired from leg day and almost dropping your bike at a stoplight because it leaned just a degree too far.
It may be worth it to you. Sometimes, taking that turn hard, feeling the bike just drop into it like a banking airplane, and coming out of it at the perfect angle/speed makes all that other stuff alright. But more often than not, you have stuff more important in your life to be risking it all on that fleeting sensation. I don't fault you for passing it by at all.
