“Remember what Bilbo used to say: It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to.” – JRR Tolkien
"Are you going to ride again?"
It is a charged question for me.
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| R1150GS on trip to Michigan |
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| Mike covered in ice after riding in freezing rain.
Towards the end of the summer of 2014 I had a motorcycle wreck. I set my BMW GS down on its side and skimmed over the pavement at 65mph. The bike came out virtually unscathed, but I didn't fare so well. I came off the bike, hit the ground, slid into traffic, collided with a truck and ended up with a partially collapsed lung, bruised liver, broken ribs, separated ribs, damaged shoulder, and a badly broken lower leg.
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| Those rods are in the bone. |
"You aren't going to ride again, are you?"
When I ride a motorcycle, I know that a collision between me and a car will end with me on the losing side. No doubt. When I complete a ride, I know that I have entered the arena as the underdog, but I made it. When I complete a ride, I have felt the air, smelled the smells and felt the road along every foot of the path I choose. I felt the tilt of the bike in every turn. I traveled the road and I know it. Not so in a car.
Will I ride again? Yes, because the physical challenge moves me. Yes, because the experience of hovering at the brink of danger moves me. Yes, because of the solitude and peace it brings me. Yes, because of the challenge of how to move from place to place in the limited space of a bike. Yes, because riding a bike has taken a part of my soul and,even if I were to try to take it back, I don't think the bike would give it back.
"Well, that is the most selfish thing I've heard."
When people say that, I know it's well intentioned and not at all mean. I know that. People who say that are speaking from what they cherish and hold dear. They are concerned, but they also make me wonder, do they take any risks? Do they step out into the world and put themselves up against odds that are not stacked in their favor? I know for a fact that some who have said I was selfish are risk-taking, courageous people, I think they just don't see a bike as a legitimate risk. That is a valid point.
Then again, I know people who live in fear and worry all their lives. They are constantly concerned that they will be robbed, attacked, or taken advantage of. They may consider me foolish because of the risks I take while I wonder if they are really enjoying life, or are they just saving it for later. The life after this one doesn't care about your 401k, your dental health, or if you have titanium plates holding your lower leg together. Hunter S. Thompson said this:
“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming "Wow! What a Ride!”
Do you have to ride a bike to do this? No, of course not, but you need to risk. You need to place yourself in positions where you are not certain how it will end. We all need to take chances. This the basis for passion. Passion grows in the uncertainty of life... "will she accept me?" "Will he cherish me?" "Will I succeed?" "Will I fail?" The "Will I...?" moments define us.
"Will you ride again?"
I already have. Five months and 26 days after my wreck I finished setting the valve clearances on my bike, I changed the oil, replaced the damaged engine guards and backed the bike out of the garage it was living in. I started the engine, rode the bike around the yard a few times, then took that big 1150cc motor out on the road. I was cautious, but as I rode, a grin I had not worn in 5 months, 26 days seeped out of the recesses of my soul... the bike gave me that part of my soul back.
So, here I find myself. I am holding on to the grips of the handlebar, twisting the throttle back, the bars flexing forward like a recurve bow straining to pull me forward, meanwhile the firm hand of inertia has my heart and is pulling me back. In between these forces, I close my hands in fists as I'm fighting to hold the grips.
"Will you ride again?" asks the Bike...
"I AM the bowstring... Show me the road, I don't care where it goes..."
Yes, I will.
The truth of the matter is that I knew the risks before I rode, and I know them now in an even clearer, more tactile way. Even so, the allure of riding has not died.
The reason people urge me to not ride ever again is the inherent danger. I understand the avoidance of motorcycles because of the danger. I get the fear, but I also understand that spicy edge that the danger gives to riding. It isn't that I have a death wish. I am not intentionally self destructive, although some may say as long as I ride, I am suicidal. No, I don't want to die, but the spice of danger reminds me why I live.
You may say that sounds like idiocy. Let me explain.
We are wired to overcome obstacles and solve problems. It is our nature. We approach each problem with only our history to indicate what our chances are for success. We are not content with unsolved problems. The greater the problem the more excited we are when we solve the problem. For example, the most watched sports games are ones where we aren't sure who the winner will be. Our most cherished wins are against equals or superiors. Our most recognized achievements are the ones we were not expected to gain. We revel in overcoming the odds.
The reason people urge me to not ride ever again is the inherent danger. I understand the avoidance of motorcycles because of the danger. I get the fear, but I also understand that spicy edge that the danger gives to riding. It isn't that I have a death wish. I am not intentionally self destructive, although some may say as long as I ride, I am suicidal. No, I don't want to die, but the spice of danger reminds me why I live.
You may say that sounds like idiocy. Let me explain.
We are wired to overcome obstacles and solve problems. It is our nature. We approach each problem with only our history to indicate what our chances are for success. We are not content with unsolved problems. The greater the problem the more excited we are when we solve the problem. For example, the most watched sports games are ones where we aren't sure who the winner will be. Our most cherished wins are against equals or superiors. Our most recognized achievements are the ones we were not expected to gain. We revel in overcoming the odds.
When I ride a motorcycle, I know that a collision between me and a car will end with me on the losing side. No doubt. When I complete a ride, I know that I have entered the arena as the underdog, but I made it. When I complete a ride, I have felt the air, smelled the smells and felt the road along every foot of the path I choose. I felt the tilt of the bike in every turn. I traveled the road and I know it. Not so in a car.
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| The only damage to the bike. Amazing it survived. |
Perhaps the most alluring part of riding is accelerating. Enter the voice of the concerned, but I am talking about speeding up, not breaking the limits. That change in speed is special. It is a paradox you are caught in when you rotate that throttle back: there is the sensation of leaping forward as the road rushes faster toward you, but at the same time there is an invisible hand which grabs your core and pulls you back.
It's like I am the bowstring, the bow arms are pulling me forward, but there is a will pulling me back with an unwavering resolve. I am caught in the balance of physics between the energy of moving ahead and that force which demands a reckoning and holds me back. There, on that knife's edge, I find myself on top of an engine as some kind of weird spectator. As I hang there, the world and slides by and I have become a singularity. I have become a point, occupying no space but residing at a coordinate that defines my place. From that vantage, I see the world as a fascinated witness.
It's pretty cool.
"Are you going to ride again?"
Are you really asking? Of course I will.
"But you might die."
Actually, I am most assuredly going to die, unless Jesus comes back before my life is reckoned. The question most people want to know is when will they die. I think it's better to ask when they will live. Allow me to illustrate what I mean with a story.
There was a girl who went through a Tres Dias I was serving on. If you looked at her, you could see the intelligence, the drive, and the ability to fit in with the jet set crowd of the aggressive women who prowl the who's, who in Atlanta, Georgia. She is well educated, beautiful, mature, energetic, and aggressive. She went to Peru for a mission trip and, although I met her in Birmingham, Alabama, she was only partly in Alabama. Whether she is in the United States, or in Indonesia, or Madagascar, she will never really leave Peru. A part of her soul stayed there in those mountains. Her mother was disappointed. "She could have had it all" she said, "but she wasted all that potential."
What a poor pathetic woman. She missed all life had to offer. I don't mean the daughter, I mean the mother. The girl lived life without reserve or fear. Did she worry? Sure. Did she doubt? Yep. Was she in danger? Of course she was, but she was alive! Her mom was worried about what she lost, but her daughter will live five or ten lifetimes worth of experiences over most of the people in the world. She understands danger. She understands life.
I am not saying that riding a motorcycle and ministering in Peru are the same, but I am saying that there are things in our life that speak to our soul. What do we do with them? We should test them to make sure they aren't against God and then, if they are not, pursue them. We should put ourselves out in the world to find those things that motivate us, that move us to rise up and do something. This is what life is about.
It's like I am the bowstring, the bow arms are pulling me forward, but there is a will pulling me back with an unwavering resolve. I am caught in the balance of physics between the energy of moving ahead and that force which demands a reckoning and holds me back. There, on that knife's edge, I find myself on top of an engine as some kind of weird spectator. As I hang there, the world and slides by and I have become a singularity. I have become a point, occupying no space but residing at a coordinate that defines my place. From that vantage, I see the world as a fascinated witness.
It's pretty cool.
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| R1200C in Yosemite, 2011 trip across U.S. |
"Are you going to ride again?"
Are you really asking? Of course I will.
"But you might die."
Actually, I am most assuredly going to die, unless Jesus comes back before my life is reckoned. The question most people want to know is when will they die. I think it's better to ask when they will live. Allow me to illustrate what I mean with a story.
There was a girl who went through a Tres Dias I was serving on. If you looked at her, you could see the intelligence, the drive, and the ability to fit in with the jet set crowd of the aggressive women who prowl the who's, who in Atlanta, Georgia. She is well educated, beautiful, mature, energetic, and aggressive. She went to Peru for a mission trip and, although I met her in Birmingham, Alabama, she was only partly in Alabama. Whether she is in the United States, or in Indonesia, or Madagascar, she will never really leave Peru. A part of her soul stayed there in those mountains. Her mother was disappointed. "She could have had it all" she said, "but she wasted all that potential."
What a poor pathetic woman. She missed all life had to offer. I don't mean the daughter, I mean the mother. The girl lived life without reserve or fear. Did she worry? Sure. Did she doubt? Yep. Was she in danger? Of course she was, but she was alive! Her mom was worried about what she lost, but her daughter will live five or ten lifetimes worth of experiences over most of the people in the world. She understands danger. She understands life.
I am not saying that riding a motorcycle and ministering in Peru are the same, but I am saying that there are things in our life that speak to our soul. What do we do with them? We should test them to make sure they aren't against God and then, if they are not, pursue them. We should put ourselves out in the world to find those things that motivate us, that move us to rise up and do something. This is what life is about.
Will I ride again? Yes, because the physical challenge moves me. Yes, because the experience of hovering at the brink of danger moves me. Yes, because of the solitude and peace it brings me. Yes, because of the challenge of how to move from place to place in the limited space of a bike. Yes, because riding a bike has taken a part of my soul and,even if I were to try to take it back, I don't think the bike would give it back.
"Well, that is the most selfish thing I've heard."
When people say that, I know it's well intentioned and not at all mean. I know that. People who say that are speaking from what they cherish and hold dear. They are concerned, but they also make me wonder, do they take any risks? Do they step out into the world and put themselves up against odds that are not stacked in their favor? I know for a fact that some who have said I was selfish are risk-taking, courageous people, I think they just don't see a bike as a legitimate risk. That is a valid point.
Then again, I know people who live in fear and worry all their lives. They are constantly concerned that they will be robbed, attacked, or taken advantage of. They may consider me foolish because of the risks I take while I wonder if they are really enjoying life, or are they just saving it for later. The life after this one doesn't care about your 401k, your dental health, or if you have titanium plates holding your lower leg together. Hunter S. Thompson said this:
“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming "Wow! What a Ride!”
Do you have to ride a bike to do this? No, of course not, but you need to risk. You need to place yourself in positions where you are not certain how it will end. We all need to take chances. This the basis for passion. Passion grows in the uncertainty of life... "will she accept me?" "Will he cherish me?" "Will I succeed?" "Will I fail?" The "Will I...?" moments define us.
"Will you ride again?"
 |
| Adjusting the valve clearances and end-play. |
I already have. Five months and 26 days after my wreck I finished setting the valve clearances on my bike, I changed the oil, replaced the damaged engine guards and backed the bike out of the garage it was living in. I started the engine, rode the bike around the yard a few times, then took that big 1150cc motor out on the road. I was cautious, but as I rode, a grin I had not worn in 5 months, 26 days seeped out of the recesses of my soul... the bike gave me that part of my soul back.
So, here I find myself. I am holding on to the grips of the handlebar, twisting the throttle back, the bars flexing forward like a recurve bow straining to pull me forward, meanwhile the firm hand of inertia has my heart and is pulling me back. In between these forces, I close my hands in fists as I'm fighting to hold the grips.
"Will you ride again?" asks the Bike...
"I AM the bowstring... Show me the road, I don't care where it goes..."
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