The Process of Motorcycle Acceptance

In order to mentally accept the risks involved in riding a motorcycle, you must first accept that there is something wrong with your life as it is. It could be any number of things; you are weary from your daily commute. You don't get out much. Your life seems constrained and lacks a sense of freedom.

The reason for this necessary step is that, unless you are pre-disposed to be a motorcycle jockey from a young age, you have to talk yourself into it. When I first told a few people that I was going to buy a bike and learn to ride (hopefully not in that order), many of them assumed that I was having some sort of mid-life crisis about fifteen years early and discounted whatever I said by way of explanation as the raving of a crazy person. There may be some truth to this, but it is also true that there is a kind of internal sales pitch required for some of us. At my stage of Motorcycle Acceptance, where I have spent a combined total of a couple days practicing under supervision and am about to take a three-day safety course (more on this later), this is the thought process as I sit on a motorcycle:

I feel really cool right now!

followed by

This is a Very Bad idea.

Anyone with an average sense of self-preservation needs to regard motorcycles as a means to an end and that end has to be of significant value. Otherwise it's just an avenue for thrill-seekers, which is fine, but not me. Some people I've talked to get very philosophical when describing their motivation.

In my case, it is far less profound: I hate public transportation. I'm not talking about subways and busses to get across town. I'm talking about leaving New York. I have to give New Jersey credit for NJ Transit, because as a New Yorker, any trip I could possibly want to take to any desireable part of New Jersey is accessible and affordable thanks to NJ Transit.

The problem with this arrangement is that it inevitably deposits you in New Jersey.

I could dedicate several pages to why I find New Jersey to be such a perplexing place, but I will save us both from a half-hour of our lives we would never get back and simply observe that I rarely meet anyone from New Jersey who will proudly stand up and say "I love New Jersey!" (Bergen County not included.)

The only other option for public transportation around here is Amtrak, a giant government-funded organization which annually declares its surprise and befuddlement at the discovery of all these trains it seems to have and then proceeds to ask, like your neighbor with a broken-down car, if it can borrow your ride to work.

If you are willing to put up with Amtrak, you can go to Boston, Philadelphia, or Washington D.C. and several suburban points between. The cheapest round-trip ticket to from New York to Boston is about $160. For your $160, you get to go to Penn Station, an experience like no other, and arrive at your destination about fifteen minutes sooner than if you'd taken a car.

If you haven't experienced any of these things, a motorcycle might seem to you an inane solution to a non-existent problem in a place like New York. After all, motorcycles are for the wide-open road, which is a concept that doesn't exist within a fifty mile radius of this place. This is not an insignificant consideration.

All of the fun things to do on a motorcycle cannot be done in New York City.

There are no deserted parking lots in which to practice.

There are no twisty roads with no traffic.

Parts of the Henry Hudson Parkway and the FDR Drive could be described as scenic, but only by comparison to the rest of the grid. "Scenic" around here means that you can look at some water and either Queens or New Jersey while you sit in traffic.

I should emphasize that, when I say "New York City" I am referring specifically to Manhattan, where I live. It could be that there is some dark corner of Brooklyn or Queens where the above is not true, but it takes, on average, only slightly less time to get to anywhere other than the edge of another borough as it does to get to Philadelphia (via public transit). For all practical purposes, the inner parts of Queens and Brooklyn are in other states, and Staten Island is another country.

The first question of Motorcycle Acceptance is: "Is it worth it?" I've tried to answer that in this entry.

The next question is "Can I do it?" This is a question that a lot of people seem unconcerned with. Some un-scientific facts whose sources may be the Hurt Report (an early 1980s study of Motorcycle accident statistics), The Internet (always reliable), Some Guy, or Made Up:

- Riding a motorcycle is between 16 and 40 times more dangerous than driving a car, depending on how you measure "more dangerous," but:
- In over half of all motorcycle fatalities, the blood alcohol content of the rider was above the legal limit
- In only a small percentage of motorcycle fatalities did the rider have any formal training (such as the course offered nationwide by the Motorcycle Safety Foundation
- A large percentage of riders killed do not actually have a motorcycle license
- Protective gear is rarely required by law (helmets are in many states, but not armored jackets/leathers or pants) and rarely worn

Let's be brutally honest about it for a moment: it's okay if you don't want to ride a motorcycle, but if you try and can't, that's somehow worse than not trying at all. Admitting that you may just not be cut out for it takes enormous presence of mind and lack of regard for what cool biker dudes will think about you. Nonetheless, it seems to me that, statistically, some of those cool biker dudes belong to this group but don't know it.

Over the next few days, I will be taking what the MSF calls their "Basic RiderCourse" at the Motorcycle Safety School in the Bronx. This is two and a half days of classroom and course work in which you learn how not to kill yourself or others.

There are plenty of riders out there with a low regard for the MSF, for a wardrobe full of safety gear, and for anything other than throwing caution into the wind in a no-holds-barred embrace of biker culture and freedom.

I am willing to bet that they aren't in musical theatre.

Even if I were a biker dude with intimidating leathers and knives and I rode a gigantic Harley with nothing but tattoos for protection, whatever street cred this might buy me would go down the toilet the minute I produced my Actor's Equity card. You can't play Schroeder in You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown and really belong to badass biker subculture.

I'm hoping that there's a pseudointellectual dramatic nerd biker subculture. In that country, I am King.