Today, I was pushed just one time too many on this issue. I’m normally an even-keeled person; difficult to frustrate. But I grow weary of having to hear story after story of motorcycle crashes seen or experienced, of worst-case scenarios, of things folks have heard. I do my best to be a responsible rider. So to those of you who must make it your mission in life to continually harrass me about my motorcycle and to tell me to stop riding now, I dedicate this post.
I jump out of planes.
I bungee off of bridges.
I travel abroad and intend to do so more often.
I plan to zipline.
I ride rollercoasters.
I drive my car and ride the bus and walk home down dark streets alone after dark in my crappy neighborhood. Sometimes even through utterly unfamiliar neighborhoods — I recently found myself walking alone lost near pioneer square through quite the gaggle of homeless looking for a bus.
I do dangerous things.
I might die.
I might crash my motorcycle and be killed tonight when I finish changing the oil and putting the newly charged battery back in. Or I might not. I really think that I probably won’t. But, frankly, I don’t care.
I don’t care.
It is my risk.
And I choose to live — really live.
And I won’t be bullied into living half a life. I’ve lived safe. I’ve lived sheltered. I’ve lived under an overbearing patriarch making my decisions for me. I’m done with that. Done.
Fuck “safe” and give me the whole risk and the chance to fully live (or die) every single time.
People, I love you all dearly and I try to take that into account in the decisions I make. I try to live as a priestess first, family-person second, responsible job-holder and mortgage payer third and adreneline junkie fouth. As an example, I’ve recently been so frustrated that I’ve wanted to wash my hands of my entire life, take a job in Denver and just start over there. But I take my relationships into account first. I take my responsibilities into account first. I do care. Really. Quite a lot.
That said, there is no-one in this world who really needs me. No-one who counts on me for their well being or depends on me to be there every day. I’m not looking for any comments or reassurance on this — it’s a simple fact.
If I had a child, I might not ride a motorcycle or jump out of planes. I’d probably reconsider a lot of things that I do. Hell, if I had a husband counting on me I’d probably reconsider a lot of things that I do. But I don’t. And it’s been well-proven time and again that there is nothing that I do that can’t be replaced by someone better, younger, stronger, cheaper, whatever.
I have a lot of pressure in my world, and I try to be there for a lot of people. Going fast, falling from heights, trying new things and generally being adventurous helps me to focus on feelings of joy – if only for a moment. It is a huge stress reliever.
So let me have my motorcycle. Let me have my skydiving. Let me have my sparring matches.
And know this this truth, and never forget it – whatever happens:
If I die, it was not on purpose, and I am truly sorry for what I leave behind and for those who sorrow.
But that said: If I die taking a risk, It was worth it.
Howling at the Moon 