life

Dear Motorcyclist

shutterstock_550817An open letter to motorcyclists everywere. Feel free to cut, paste, share, whatever.

I realize that the vast majority of you truly and absolutely value your lives, I really do. The feel of the wind in your hair, the squeak of the leather, the freedom, the joy of the road trip: I totally get it. When I was in college and before children arrived, the boyfriend who has been my husband these past 30 years rode one, leather, beard, cool sunglasses and all. How I loved wrapping my legs around my honey and taking the 15 mile journey to Uni every day… honestly, I’m on your side.

However. Today, as I was coming into town slowing for the 30 mph speed limit and one of you was coming out town popping an uber-cool wheelie on your bike straight down the hash lines doing nothing less than 60, passing your line of traffic and coming within mere millimeters of taking both my life and yours, I must object. Between oncoming traffic and you coming straight at me, and the line of parked cars on my side of the road, I literally had nowhere to go but dead.

I thank a generous angel for sparing both our lives today, and am also grateful I was doing the speed limit, which you obviously were not. You did look really cool, though, coming at me with your wheel in the air, and I couldn’t help but be super impressed at your gorgeous leathers and your shiny bike. Our minds seem to develop photographic recall in near-death situations, so you can be sure I will never forget the look of you. Very impressive!

One of these days, when you manage to kill yourself, I’m sure the local motorcycle clubs will organize a ride in your honour and place flowers on the roadside at the spot where you died, just like they did the last motorcyclist who took the life of a pedestrian and himself in this exact location some years back. Yes, my leather-clad friend, you will be hailed as a true hero of all motorcycle-hood, and we villainous car drivers doing the speed limit and hapless pedestrians daring to cross the road on the other side of a blind hill are all to blame for your death.

Poor thing. If only we would think… if only we would look and show consideration.

You may be interested to know I have two grown children, two grandchildren, a husband who loves me, 7 sibllings and parents who would have mourned my death, not to mention hundreds of friends I have gained through my religious affiliation. My death would have caused something of a splash for the many, many people who know and love me. There would have been no fun ride, and likely no flowers at the roadside. But thank you kindly for reminding me of the value I place on my own life.

But, well, you were Born to be Wild, I guess, and you can’t really help it. But you will be amazed at how tame you will be in death…

Mother Hen

© motherhendiaries 2015, all rights reserved

26 replies »

  1. Totally agree with you. In the town we live in now there is actually a bike week and a Fall version of it as well. Many of our retirees are riders as well. It stays under control but there is a lot of prep and advisory. And still when hot shots roll in it can get dicey.

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