8 May 2013
I've liked all the bikes I've had, but this is the one I look at when it's sitting in the parking lot wherever I am and I can see out the window.
The only thing my brain ever imagined different is the paint; I'd always pictured it with metallic purple, but I have no complaints about this absolutely beautiful paint job. There's not another one like it, anywhere. It's custom, right down to the hand drawn and painted pinstripes and Triumph logo.
But then last November I went and clicked on a link at reddit, and watched a video clip of a biker getting run over by a semi truck, and for a long time I couldn't get the image of the poor guy being ripped apart out of my head.
I didn't get on the bike for weeks after that.
Since then, I've ridden it maybe 150 miles, 90 of that when I had to take it up to Sacramento and back for some routine maintenance. Since then, I've unintentionally stumbled onto more unfortunately clips online, I've read the news of one biker after another dying in accidents, I've watched riders go past me wearing shorts and flip-flops and nothing else.
When presented with a choice, most of the time I take the car. Or the Trikke. I might intend to run an errand or two on the bike, but I always talk myself out of it.
I'm losing my nerve.
Anytime you get on a bike, you should be cautious. Hyper-aware. But being afraid? Not a good way to ride. Not a smart way to ride. I haven't hit the point of fear yet, but I can feel it looming. I have no issues riding around town, but I don't look forward to rides anymore. I don't itch to take the bike out. I'm not ready to give it up...but that's coming, and sooner rather than later.
When you're ready to sell the dream...it might be time to let it go.