Riding Motorcycles


Summer 2012

I was obsessed with the ideas of motorcycles. In my mind they were no longer crazy bikes for badasses, but the ultimate expression of freedom. It was a time in my life when more than ever I wanted to be free, in whatever capacity, no matter how dangerous. And so began my mission ride a motorcycle.

The first problem I encountered was that none of my friends rode motorcycles. And so a logical solution presented itself. I would go up to people with helmets and ask for a ride.

The first two times were busts. The men I asked told me they’d been drinking, and that they didn’t want to kill me on my first ride. So I continued to search, over a matter of a month or so, for a sober motorcyclist. Finally I found him. His name was Mike, and he worked at a Mexican restaurant where Ellen and I were enjoying a margarita on a Thursday night. When he got off work he gave me his helmet and told me to hop on.

And it was fucking terrifying. Never had I prayed so hard than that night, while Mike rode down the streets of Boulder at breakneck speed. He took on corners with no fear as I repeated my silent pleas to God “don’t let me die, don’t let me lose my legs.” When I got off the bike (after taking the above photograph) my legs were shaking and my pulse was throbbing throughout my body.

Now I (for some odd reason), have three friends with motorcycles, and they’ve all offered me a ride. Every time I politely decline. There’s a fine line between freedom and danger, and its one I’ve learned to recognize. Because as much as I want to feel free, I want to do it with my limbs intact.



2 responses to “Riding Motorcycles

  1. Haha, sounds like me at first! Then I got so it was just THE way to travel! I used to even go to sleep on the back of our bike! Best way in the world to experience the scenery, the scents of the countryside and the absolute freedom of just being one with the machine and the land!

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