I haven’t been on my motorcycle in ages – even before the weather turned. I’m not sure why that is. I think part of it is Portland traffic – we’ve had a huge influx of out-of-state folks moving here in the last few years, and our infrastructure is in no way prepared to handle it. You’d figure that wouldn’t affect me, since I learned to, and started, riding in LA. But lane-splitting and the weather down there made all the difference.
Now I don’t feel nearly as safe on the roads, and the thought of fighting all that traffic just to get somewhere fun kinda drains me. By the time I actually manage it, I’m usually too tired to even enjoy the ride for very long, and then it’s fight, fight, fight all the way back.
Or maybe I’m out of love with my specific bike, and a new one will rekindle. Or maybe I’m just sorta over the whole thing, as happens with hobbies. Or maybe I’m being possessed by a safety conscious ghost, and need a danger-exorcism.
Regardless, I’ve been lusting after classic muscle cars lately. Always wanted one. I’m considering selling the bike and buying myself some antique American muscle. I mean, it’s just as stupid and impractical, and says all the same things about my dick, right? It should be an even trade.