Beantown Baggers

Motorcycles are like Pizza and Sex

Have you ever taken a girl home and been less than proud in the morning? Of course you have but you probably had more fun that night than you would’ve had sitting with your douchebag friends at the South Street diner talking about all the “game” you had at the bars that night.

Have you ever had a piece of pizza at an ice skating rink. It’s no Santarpio’s but it definitely hits the spot more than a nature’s valley granola bar (your normal alternative at the MDC rink).

Have you ever been on a bad motorcycle ride but then realized that it’s better than the alternative of sitting in a cubicle or working a thankless job for a thankless boss? It sort of puts the ride into perspective.

A bad day on a motorcycle, below average slice of pizza or preamble to a walk of SHAME are still better than the alternatives.

I often think about this when I’m on a long ride and headed home. It’s cold, it’s raining and my goal just seems to be “get ‘er done”.

A few years ago I left for North Conway from East Boston with two buddies on a mild but chilly Saturday morning in October. By the time we hit the makeshift Harley Davidson shop in Conway (the one that doesn’t sell bikes) the temprature was 30 degrees and all feeling in my extremities was a distant memory. I was wearing a light leather and it was so bad that I bought another HD jacket from the shop. After that day we are all much smarter about our riding attire and plan for ice-age conditions no matter the month.

After stopping for grub in North Conway we had a few hundred dark and frigid miles to conquer before we could thaw out in Boston. I remember that on one of our our gas station/coffee stops, we saw small felt black gloves likely made for a 12 year old girl for sale. We each paid the $3.99 for the gloves in the hopes that a layer under our normal gloves would make a meaningful difference. It didn’t.

We pushed on, hating every last minute the the ride – just trying to get home and warm up.

A few years have passed since that bitter night in NH and the riding buddies on my flank have relocated across the country for work. As a result, it is a rarity that we ever get to ride together… and I miss it.

These days I’m a bit older and a lot more inclined to wish that I had better perspective that night. Perspective to enjoy the time we had on that ride instead of just wishing it would end.

Even a bad day riding is better than… Well it’s better than just about anything.


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