It’s not so much the money that’s the problem, you can save. It’s the predictable and emotion fuelled conversations and arguments that go with it.
It’s the girlfriends, the parents, the girlfriend’s parents and the wankers at parties that have watched one too many moral panic stories on A Current Affair.
“So…do you have a death wish?” No, I don’t have a death wish.
“Have you heard that ambulance drivers refer to motorcyclists as temporary citizens?” Yes, I am aware of that.
“Are you going to get a tattoo now?” Not sure, but the two aren’t really related. The act of motorcycling isn’t really the poster boy for the anarchy movement, and ‘tattoos’ didn’t make it onto the agenda at the last ‘rebel club’ meeting I attended.
The problem with telling people you’re getting into motorcycling is that: a) it’s misunderstood, and b) there’s a higher percentage of dickheads that get involved than other pursuits.
If you were to walk into motorcycle shop on a busy day I’m willing to say that out of 100 customers, at least 30 will be complete dickheads. Idiots that are desperate to get hectic and impress chicks, they’re the guys everyone sees on the news doing 200 kph down Lygon street.
Whereas if you were to walk into a surf shop on a busy day, out of 100 people probably only ten would be dickheads. And when surfers talk to people at parties, even though they risk being washed up on a beach as a soggy shark stool, they don’t seem to cop too many curly questions about their pursuit.
As most people in this country have driven at some point in there life, there’s a pretty good chance they’ve encountered a dickhead motorcyclist in action, and they remember them.
The moment that the consequences of misunderstanding and dickhead really collides, as I’ve noticed in my short motorcycling life, is at the traffic lights. It’s a loop of irony that’s almost beautiful.
When you’re up the front of the traffic light queue you need to take off quick, and you need to do it for two very good reasons.
Firstly, you want to break away from the traffic. Every car around you on the road is another car that probably hasn’t seen you, and will probably want to change lanes on top of you.
The other reason is that motorcyclists have been powering away at the lights since the dawn of man, both for safety and dickhead reasons, and everyone knows and expects this.
When I’m at the lights on my postie bike, the bloke in the gas guzzling four wheeler behind me is sure I’m going to zip away because I’m a motorcycling dickhead. He’s so sure that he’s already planning to floor it as soon as the light goes green, and if I DON’T take off like a maniac he’s probably going to flatten me.
If my mum happens to be waiting at the lights in the beside me and sees me taking off hell for leather, she’s probably going to punch me in the face for riding dangerously while screaming moral panic catch phrases she’s seen on A Current Affair from the night before.
The solution? I don’t know, you tell me.
Have you had a hard time convincing people that buying a motorcycle was a good idea? Comment below:
I’ve found this great place to ride, an oasis of quiet loopy roads amidst the inner urban sprawl, and stumbled across a bunch of other motorcyclists who are doing the same thing. 
