#motorcycles
A basic idea.
You have the right to wave your arms as much as you would like until
your arms interfere with me.
Until you strike me or you're causing a disturbance in my space. Which
exceeds your right to waive your arms.
Simple principle, or so it sounds.
This whole idea in modern times, how we look at individual rights.
(We've tried to reduce everything into group thinking, into group projects and team effort, and erase the individual as much as possible. )
I believe that a person has the right to do what they would like with their body, but I also believe that that right stops when you start Infringing on the rights of others.
( No one wants to talk about Thomas Hobbes and his contributions to the theory of individual rights. )
A basic idea
More specifically is this whole thing about motorcycles..
“Shared public roads where ordinary people are just trying to get around safely are different from voluntary extreme sports or contained risk environments that 2 wheeled vehicle swere developed for and should be restricted to.”
We outlawed 3 wheelers for a reason but we won’t do anything about a vehicle with even less wheels … ?
Now if you want to smoke, that's one thing. If you want to get a tattoo, that's one thing. If you want to live a wildlife and put all kinds of chemicals in your body, as long as you're not going out putting other people in danger. OK, I'm all for it
Be as free as you want.
Be as punk rock as you want. Be as rebellious as you want.
Whatever label you choose to associate with, I'm OK with all that, and I'll defend you.
I stood up to take a bullet for the countries that gave the world these .
Sign the papers, volunteered for the service because I believe in these ideas.
Motorcycles though.
That's a whole nother story.
You don't have the right to just weave in and out of traffic, regardless of what the traffic laws say. In England, it may be legal here in the United States,
I see you doing that, I'm gonna open my door, smack you, knock you down.
I don't care what the damage is.
I don't care. I'll run you over with my SUV / I'll slam on my brakes and let your rear end me. I don't care.
Now, this comes from a person who my own family members. In particular, many whom I love died on a motorcycle. Now does that make me more bitter? It's beside the point, it really is.
But yes, I also take it personally.
A person is 38%. More likely to die on a stupid motorcylce .
They cause more traffic accidents and are the reason more people go to the hospital for Vehicle related incidents, than all the others put together.
If you're on one and you think that makes you cool, you're automatically, in my book, an idiot.
Automatically owning a toy or a machine and thinking that it does something for your status because of the number of wheels that it has ?? , it's completely ridiculous
and equating it with freedom or some personal right ?
You have additional rights now ? - that you have to put yourself and other people in danger.
You put other people in danger because WHEN you go down, ys when , not if. ... everybody around you slams on their brakes and we're all weaving and swerving and trying not to run over you.
And you got nowhere else to go except for the ground.
And I don't care how bad you are, you hit the ground at 50-60 miles an hour. You're going to destroy your internal organs.
You're going to die.
That helmet isn't going to do a thing to save you
And do you deserve to die? Yeah, more than likely.
Because
1; you were stupid enough to buy the thing.
2 ;you were stupid enough to think that somehow it makes you cool.
3; you were stupid enough to think that somehow it equates to personal freedom.
And 4; you're out there breaking all kinds of laws and ******* your fellow motorists off
and not doing a responsible job sharing the road.
Just because your vehicle can do things that other vehicles can't does not give you the right to do them.
People want predictability out of the other driver.
They want to understand clearly what it is that you are doing.
That way they can go from point A to point B safely, which should be the goal of everyone.
The motorcycle is not a safe vehicle.
It never has been and it never will be.
There's no way to clear your body from the thing at velocity in a safe manner.
It is a death trap.
If you ride , you will eventually be either critically injured or killed. Your bones will be severely broken. If not, you will die. And I'm telling you that I'm a member of a club with millions of members that are not looking out for you. We're doing quite the Opposite
We are wishing you harm.
We're tired of wanting you to park the stupid thing.
Stop buying the thing and denounce those who sell the stupid thing.
Not only that, but if you want to ride it,
go get a motocross bike and jump it on a closed circuit with other idiots that you can run into all you want
because there's no cars on the track.
If you want to use it in that capacity, go ahead, but you shouldn't be allowed to drive it anywhere else. You shouldn't be allowed to drive it down a sidewalk for sure. It's not a bicycle. You shouldn't be allowed special privileges for parking anywhere. Just because you're a ****** bag.
The message of the motorcycle is as bad as marketing and advertising can possibly get. If you watch movies like Top Gun or any of these other stupid shows that glamorize the ownership or the use of such a vehicle, and you believe that that's somehow going to affect you. And your private or personal life?
OK, it's a miserable experience. You get on the thing. Your knees are cold, your thighs are cold, your face is getting hit by bugs. You got to wear the stupid helmet. Then your hair's all ******* up. You're all sweaty. You got to put on the same sweaty, ***** gross helmet over and over again. Fingers are chapped. Your knuckles are chapped. Your back is screaming. Your lower back is hurt. You're in a cramped, weird, stupid, awkward position. ... it's a horrible experience . Anyone around your cheap toy plastic death trap can’t hear most of the time. And you burn yourself by touching any of the sides of it.
and it can fall over on you or a child
and you can't really put it in reverse or manipulate it at way too many angles
and on way too many type s of incline or surfaces it falls over.
And you're expecting all the rest of the world to capitulate to you and your desires and wait as you struggle with it. .
And then you're trying to convince a chick that it's cool for her to get on the back of it
so that you can not only put your life in danger,
other driver's life's in danger
but her life in danger too.
The safety of motorcycles compared to other forms of transportation is nowhere near equitable. The amount of people that die on motorcycles every single day and do not survive any type of collision or crash compared to the amount of survivor car crashes.
To deny that argument would be like saying that it's OK to walk around with lions on leashes, or for every idiot to just have a loaded firearm in public.
The road is a shared public space. When something that causes that amount of harm on a daily and continual basis. . It's not just the harm, it's the cost. Not just the emotional cost, but the cost for everyone else's insurance. And the cost of health care.
I mean, we're talking about a day and age that we live in where people have said we're not going to do Plastic bags anymore. We're not going to allow people to be around smokers anymore.
We can and do have a responsibility to protect our shared public spaces and to make them safe for everyone.
Saying that a person rides a motorcycle and “ oh , he hasn't died yet is idiotic. It's only a matter of time.”
And yes, I'm going beyond that and saying, oh, you think it's so safe and you use it all the time with no problems ..? Well Wait till I come up beside you and give you a little nudge. Then we'll see how safe you think it is and how “ cool “ you are.
Apr 12
Apr 12, 2026 at 12:32 AM UTC
Sun tracks high through
a Carolina blue sky.
Down twisting turning roads I fly.
Nothing quite like a Carolina morning,
Sweet Baby James rings in my ears.
Clouds mingle with the mountains
water flows from the rocks like fountains
My God I wish that you were here.
I wish you were here,
Whispering sweet love songs in my ear,
as we while away the miles on the road.
As much as I love to wander,
I'll never stray for long,
Your voice, it always calls me home.
For a Carolina Morning
no matter how beautiful,
Is never quite as beautiful alone.
May 8, 2025
May 8, 2025 at 3:28 PM UTC
The open road possesses my soul
leaning to and fro,
into and through the curves of the road.
The curves life throws.
I glide, I fly, down these thoroughfares,
these desolate highways,
back roads, and byways.
Adrift on the wind that surrounds me.
Pounds me,
fills my bones,
with its heat,
with its cold.
With a satisfaction of freedom
I've only ever known,
on two wheels.
My motorcycle is a time machine
that transports me to years long ago.
I am ageless as I hurdle forward.
A faceless, genderless soul,
behind a visor of golden sun,
obscuring the time traveler within.
But even though you can't see me,
I can assure you I am smiling.
And I will be until
my ride reaches its end.
Apr 16, 2025
Apr 16, 2025 at 1:19 PM UTC
The wind buffets against me and I feel free
drying the sweat from the blazing sun.
Across the desert I run, the rumble of the road
radiates up through my soul and lifts me,
somewhere above myself.
Looking down at the lone rider, the sole survivor
at least it feels that way to me.
I roll the power on, faster and faster I run
barren landscapes all around.
But you can't outrun the desert son,
It seems god speaks to me so I smile
and slow down.
Nov 15, 2024
Nov 15, 2024 at 2:19 PM UTC
Your ******* remind me of S-curves
on a mountain highway.
Like the curve of the windshield of a Lamborghini.
Like the stick shift of a new Corvette.
Your shoulders remind me of the breaking
of a newly frozen ice cube tray.
They are the tops of the pillars
of your skinny arms.
The flash of your blue bikini
takes my mind away from
your secret face.
Its temperature tells of a moist nose
making a puckered upper lip.
I'm reminded of Cranberries songs.
We should've met with your shirt on.
The rim of your head tells of
a hundred men who would swoon.
No fat on you at all.
Would you even care to look at me
for one more moment?
The roses of your eyes are not yet
in full bloom.
Your blonde highlight tips are like
needles on my skin.
Could I even give a hug
that didn't give away my devotion?
blood rush to my inner thighs
tip brushes
light blue sky behind you
deep blue ocean behind you
three curves tell of your waist
and your navel.
as you stand in this shade
eyes like gray clouds
masking their brown color.
"I don't really want you" she says with a sigh.
"You cannot handle me, why tell a lie."
"Most men only dream of me," with
a Kawasaki Ninja in her eye.
To press against her would sooth my nerves.
Hard or soft its all just fantasy.
Her body's arteries and veins so tightly coiled by her skin.
I'm still here after ******
untouched and unfelt.
I will always be that picture
written in the story of your life.
She will not let me love her.
She just makes me stare.
Sep 28, 2020
Sep 28, 2020 at 10:05 PM UTC
Enfield punches the ground, wheels throw up muddy rainbows
from where they sank with the rain. The rider, some fresh young college thing,
flinches as it ricochets off his goggles, then unsteadily pulls away
wrestling with this strange machine. The old blokes laugh
with their propane cookers and badger-stripe beards, slick
with bacon grease and spit. Outside the beer tent
a kid fingers an old blues tune on a scarred and beaten acoustic.
Coins thrown into an old railway cap, her grandfather’s
smile golden in the sunrise.
Mar 26, 2019
Mar 26, 2019 at 6:07 AM UTC
Yes, I am prolly the only fan of old, cold, coffee. Over antique sonnets, too.
(sonnet #MMMMMMMCLXXX)
Soft blue heavn's arid eye ne clouds 'non fence
Though ah, how ghostly shadows haunt and trail
Across the rippling fields of grass detail
Below! look sweetly as in years gone--sense
Of all we'd known within their cast, til hence
The soul yields to is't childhood's carefree scale
As twere of hope? vain dreams' perspective hale
If we'd but 'llow ourselves to breathe, fr'intents.
And Maples' shaggy boughs nod; leaves astir
To aerie whispers, as the voice of who?
Some distant motorcyclist passing through
Upon these emptyer country roads in tour,
Lends 'scuse for placid calm, where Sunday fer
All that's excuse, the hol'day 'pon us too.
27May18b
May 27, 2018
May 27, 2018 at 8:38 PM UTC
If I had a car
I would want a’68 Ford Country Sedan
Big, huge, beastly
A masculine power fantasy
If I had a motorcycle
My fishnet legs would look so hot
Draped either side of its seat
And a highway to myself
If I had boat
I could go out
And I could float
On the water, on the lake
If I had a car,
If I had a motorcycle,
If I had a boat,
I would have a lot and lot and lot of debt
Feb 22, 2018
Feb 22, 2018 at 4:03 AM UTC
I killed a bee today,
It reminded me of a classmate
Lost years ago.
I saw him leave with a smile,
A car ate his chest.
As mine
Killed a bee.
That's the problem with motorcycles
On the road;
In a car
Nobody notices,
Dragonflies,
Fireflies,
Regular flies,
Some misfortune cats
Tired of having so many lives.
I wiped a bee off my jacket,
Like I change the channel.
Oct 28, 2017
Oct 28, 2017 at 12:27 AM UTC
There's a rumor says that Harley Davidson's always leak oil.
Well, -all warriors bleed on the battlefield...don't they?
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 10:39 AM UTC
Everyday I'm trying so hard to like my favorite things for reasons having nothing to do with you.
Today when I decided to drive on the meandering border of Walloon Lake,
Wildwood Harbor rd,
The canopied trees
flashing shadows of squirrels peaking through paws
reminded me of every motorcycle ride I accompanied you on.
Holding tight to your chiseled stomach,
hands cupping your belly button through your sweatshirt pockets,
you would maneuver your mobile machinery through every dip and dive,
garnishing curves with streamline, flawless breaking and acceleration.
I would lean into your spine,
imagining the path of your lower back as the map of our road ahead,
each bump and curvature a flawless representation of reality,
the living moment.
Something sensual existed about the way you and I forged a relationship on pavement,
riding the asphalt the same way your bending fingers rode my thighs.
And every time I choose to drive our road with my less than aerodynamic Marquis,
each stomach flip from the unsuspected slopes
transports me to lazy mornings-
Naked and alone in any way imaginable.
Purity and solitude,
truth, the end of it.
So I turned onto M-75
trying to forget every reason that I love Wildwood Harbor for you,
and only remember the reasons I love it for me,
but couldn't find any worthy of space.
You made everything so memorable.
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 4:37 PM UTC
My Mother has always been attracted to violent, cowardly men
So one night she went to a local, seedy bar located in the bad side of town
She was barely 19 but had a fake ID bought from a clever counterfeiter
As she sipped her third Black Russian in walked an attractive man
He wore far too much black leather; leather pants, jacket and vest and biker boots
When he took off his helmet his Grecian looks were extremely apparent
He noticed my Mother right away... She was the most beautiful of the woman there
Her blonde hair fell around her shoulders, her blue eyes flashed
And sparkled in the light of the dimly lite bar
Their eyes made contact and she brought her drink to her mouth
Her light pink tongue ran around the rim of the glass
The dark man raised an eye brow at her and made his way to the
Bar stool my mother had her legs propped upon, her incredible long white legs
He looked at them and touched her ankle without a word
He ran his thumb over her pale and soft skin, with just one touch
He had my Mother completely under his spell
Finally after seconds that felt like centuries he lifted his hand from her ankle
He asked if he could buy her a drink and sit by her
Breathless she nodded her head and moved her legs to allow him to sit
He bought her another drink and they sat and talked for awhile
The ****** tension was almost tangible between them
He loved how brass she was, how she argued with his beliefs and how she flirted to get her way
She asked about his motorcycle and he offered to take her for a ride
She responded with a puzzled "Now???"
And he laughed a deep laugh and responded with an accented "If you would like"
She got up and whispered in his ear "I'd like to very much get a ride"
My Mothers heart raced for she had never done anything like this before
But she had to have this man, this man that she had just met
With a smile that nearly blinded her he got up and placed his hand
Dangerously low on her back, exactly where her shirt ended and the small line of skin was
He had kept his hands on her the entire night but this touch almost burned
My mother let him herd her out of the bar and once they were outside
He walked over to the meanest looking machine she had ever seen
With concern she looked at her mini skirt knowing a lot of leg would show if she got on that bike
He laughed at her face and climbed onto the bike
He tossed the extra helmet he had to her and beckoned for her to climb on
When she did he ran his right hand down her each of her legs making sure they were pressed against his
My mother was in for the ride of her life...
For this man was not a man at all but a God...
Apr 18, 2015
Apr 18, 2015 at 10:02 PM UTC