I should preface this column by saying that I don’t actually own a motorbike of my own. Ever since my Dad lost a game of chicken with a lorry and came off his bike, ending up mangled round a signpost in 1983, no-one in our house has been allowed to get one. However, that hasn’t stopped me from loving everything to do with motorbikes and attending race meetings when I get the opportunity (and occasionally riding on my friend’s bikes, but don’t tell my Dad that).
As of 2007, the last time the number was collated, there were 37,147 motorbike licences in Ireland. The statistics are frightening (which is why I don’t read them) – motorbikes make up 12-15% of accidents on the road and 10% of road injuries. I work with a lot of paramedics and EMT’s, and they always say that incidents involving bikes make up a large part of the calls that they take – on account of bike users being less visible and bikes being less stable than much of the other traffic on the roads. All of which seems to make the idea of riding a bike like a very bad idea.
People who drive cars always seem to sneer when motorbikes are mentioned; cars are more weather-resilient, they can transport more than one person, there’s so much more room in a car… They never seem to understand the attraction of a two-wheeler – you, dear reader, might not understand it, but don’t worry; I’m going to explain.
Life on the road on a bike is not like any other vehicle experience. It’s just you and the open road, with the freedom to chose where to go and when, dependant only on the amount of fuel in your tank and the state of the road in front of you – which in some places in Ireland is a whole pause for consideration all by itself. It’s a life fuelled by the idea that nothing and no-one can stop you, once you’re on that bike.
The brilliant documentary ‘Closer to the Edge’ (reviewed by the lovely miniwaffler here) perfectly captured what it’s like to ride a bike in the pursuit of glory, in this case the Isle of Man TT, a race where riders have risked all – in some cases, died – to be the best there is, and the sense of freedom that only riding a bike can bring. It’s the best case I have ever seen for why anyone would take up motorbike riding.
The one problem that I personally have with motorbikes is not the actual bikes, but the fact that as a girl, I instantly get dumped into a box, a stereotype, from which I can never escape. If I’m not a butch, short-haired, burly woman who gives most men a run for their money in terms of size and gruffness of voice, I must automatically be one of those girls who likes bikes for reasons that rhyme with ‘sex’ and run round garages whipping off bike leathers to reveal a scantily clad figure, whipping my hair back and forth for effect.
Once I tried to buy a motorbike magazine in a large retail chain, and stood in the queue feeling like the ground couldn’t open up and swallow me quick enough; the cover of said magazine featured a lovely Kawaski W800 that made me drool (look at the image above and see how lovely it is!) – however, the cover also featured a girl in a state of almost complete undress, draped over the bike as though she was trying to mould herself to it. When I got to the till, I was met with instant judgement, as the person behind the till assumed I was either a) a lesbian, b) a doting girlfriend buying something for a lout of a boyfriend, or c) confused. It was a lot like that time I bought GQ magazine because Michael Fassbender was on the front cover.
Having said (ranted) all that, I should point out that, as with most stereotypes, they’re wrong. I’m neither a butch woman nor a scantily-clad nymphomaniac (for one thing, I live in one of the coldest countries in the world that’s not circling the North Pole); rather, bikes are what I enjoy because once I’m on one, it’s me and the bike against the elements, against the world.
No other experience can match it, in my opinion. There’s nothing quite like the exhilaration of leaving everything else behind and going out to meet the future.
