Old age is proclaimed via epiphanies, eg, I will never ride a motorbike again.
First, buying a
bike would be gross indulgence. The RRs practise indulgence all days of the
week (Why hold back?) but the bike would not be a shared luxury. No one would
lend me a bike because I lack a helmet; a Shark Vision-R with matt orange top
and rear, for instance, costs £279. I doubt I’d be covered by the bike owner’s
insurance and/or I might be denied my own cover.
I wouldn’t be
tempted by some piddling 125 cc noise-box; I’d want some oomph. The Yamaha VMAX (above) reaches 60 mph in 2.5 sec
(Cf: an object in free fall near the Earth's surface accelerates from
0–60 mph in 2.73 sec.). I am 77. Make your own judgement.
So what will I be missing? Ahhh!
Changing gear manually in a car takes X seconds, on
a bike X/3 seconds. Thus dropping a cog (to overtake) follows hard on the
decision to do so; you’re past that Audi in 200 yards of road.
You’re part of the scenery (as when walking or
cycling) but the scenery is ever-changing.
Cornering is quite different. You don’t steer, you
lean. Quite, quite thrilling. The laws of physics prevent descent.
You’re not chewing sandwiches, listening to
Shostakovich, wondering about the next loo: you’re out there on your own,
concentrating.
Despite being vulnerable you’re feared.
No, this doesn’t sit well with my speed awareness class (See No points but not pointless). But this fantasy belongs to the period when I never drank less than five pints at a sitting. I was a fool, a young fool. But foolishness is often a staging post en route to old age. I forgive myself. Even if no one else does.
No, this doesn’t sit well with my speed awareness class (See No points but not pointless). But this fantasy belongs to the period when I never drank less than five pints at a sitting. I was a fool, a young fool. But foolishness is often a staging post en route to old age. I forgive myself. Even if no one else does.