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That Hunted Feeling
by Gary Charpentier |
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They
are all trying to kill me, those anonymous people in their
ubiquitous cages droning along until their trance is
shattered by the color and violence of my passing. They HATE
to be awakened like that. It makes them ANGRY. They think,
"How dare that man show me how different my life could be.
How dare he wantonly exhibit his freedom like this. The
Public Highway is no place to be having fun! Officer, arrest
that man." Ah, the visceral
appeal of a motorcycle at speed, scything through traffic
like a Messerschmitt through a lumbering formation of
bombers. Who can resist it? Oh, I see some two-wheeled
commuters of the "milk-crate-bungied-to-chrome-sissy-bar"
variety sitting meekly between the seething behemoths.
What's the point? You can get nowhere just as fast in a car
as you can riding a bike in that manner. We are light,
agile, quick and fast. We must use this to our advantage and
strike when the time is right. I see all these bumper
stickers that beseech us to "Start SEEING Motorcycles," but
I would rather remain invisible, then blast past them before
they can even think about messing with me. Consider this.
When are you safer? When you travel at approximately the
same speed as traffic, so other vehicles present a collision
hazard from both front and rear? Or when you control both
the rate of closure and the direction of your obstacles by
maintaining a slightly higher speed than all other traffic?
With speed, anything you are likely to hit is coming from in
front of you, within your field of vision of the road ahead.
One of the worst obstructions is when traffic becomes moving
pylons. If you are riding co-speed with Goober in his
Pick-em-up, you are depending on his (probably alcohol
influenced) reflexes and (lack of) judgment to keep him from
using you as another hideous hood ornament. Why not reduce
your exposure to hazards like these with a little judicious
use of the throttle? Besides, you are much less annoying to
them when you pass in and out of their lives in the shortest
amount of time. Now, I admit that
I write this under the influence of caffeine and adrenaline.
It just seems more natural and, indeed, safer to treat the
freeway and city streets as a hostile environment with
motorcycles near the bottom of the food chain. In such
circumstances, to use an old fighter pilot axiom, "speed is
life." Instead of the slothful indifference of the elephant,
we must maintain the vigilance and quick movements of the
gazelle. Of course, some
examples of our species reject this philosophy as far too
strenuous. They elect instead to festoon their mounts with
all sorts of shiny chrome and glittering lights, much like
the peacock fans it's tail feathers to attract mates or
scare off enemies. But when confronted by an 18-wheeler with
an exhausted driver "hammer down" to make it to his next
stop on time, the full dress FL-ABCDEFG or Wingabago fares
about as well as the peacock under the feet of the
inattentive pachyderm. "Oops! Well, whatever that was, it
sure was pretty!" The point I am
trying so hard to make here isn't pretty, however. It isn't
politically correct either, but you can't deny that it is
practical. "Safety First, Ride Fast." Last Monday, I was
riding to work in my usual fashion, meaning I had a wicked
caffeine buzz and didn't spare the horses as I sliced
through rush-hour traffic with the skill and precision of a
world-class surgeon wielding a chain saw. Little did I know,
as I focused on the portions of the freeway where cars were
not and where I intended to be very shortly, that someone I
work with occupied one of those "moving pylons" I referred
to earlier. This guy is an engineer and has had some gear
head experience in his time. I had a chance to talk with him
about my riding style, or lack thereof. Let's call him
Rex...because that's his name. Though I won't quote the
entire conversation to you, I will paraphrase the high
points. Me: It has
come to my attention that I may owe you an apology. Did I
cut you off in traffic the other day? Rex: Well,
no, you didn't cut me off, but do you normally change lanes
three at a time? Me:
Honestly, when I see an open lane on the other side of the
freeway and a clear path to that lane, then, yeah, I do.
Rex: Well,
do you realize how that makes car-drivers feel? First of
all, it's illegal, and second, it is not exactly
safe. Me: Yeah, I
can see where you would have that perception. But for me, on
a bike, there is no real safety on the freeway except that
which I make for myself. If I maintain a speed that the cars
can't match and take the responsibility to avoid them
myself, then my chance of being involved in an accident
decreases, and the likelihood of injuring anyone but myself
becomes less. Rex: Yes,
but don't you see the effect that has on drivers when the
next bike comes along? They will be less likely to give that
rider a break, like space to merge or even space in traffic.
That next rider did nothing to deserve the aggressive
treatment, but you set the stage. When one driver acts
aggressively, it causes the tension level of the entire
traffic stream to increase, which makes the likelihood of an
accident greater. There was quite a
bit more to the conversation, but most of it concerned the
two of us finding common ground and respecting each other's
point of view. This was a priceless opportunity for me to
find out what my version of commuting looks like from behind
a windshield. There is much more than physics involved when
we venture out onto the freeway, and it helps if we moderate
that raw survival instinct with a bit of common sense and
courtesy. This may change the way I ride to work a bit, but
I still stand by what I wrote earlier about being primarily
responsible for your own safety out there. Don't depend on
the other guy to watch out for you. Watch out for yourself,
as well as you can, and try to enjoy the experience. Riding
a motorcycle, even in traffic, is still one of life's best
(legal) thrills. M.M.M.
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