Chapter 1 — The decision

Ok, so a few days back I decided to get a motorcycle license.

My mother cried.

My girlfriend was scared.

Dad was down with it but couldn’t admit it to mother.


Why?

You say: why now, at 28 years old?
People get into bikes in their teen years. They develop muscle memory and ride it by heart. They ride a dirt bike around the yard and fall down on the soft green grass. They become really experienced by 28 or break a few bones and give it up.

To all that I say: fuck you, why the hell not???
Age ain’t nothing but a number. I never had a yard. My parents never thought a dirt bike would be a good idea to spend their hard earned cash. So I am suppose to accept that I’m never gonna ride a bike in my life? Fuck you again.

Haven’t you ever played Full Throttle or watched Terminator or the young Indiana Jones TV show? Bikes are bad-ass. You’re a bad ass when you ride. Bikes are also freedom. When you have a bike, the world is your oyster.

Yep, I was totally on the Harley-Davidson marketing-hype-wagon.

Biker freedom — they stop and have a nap on the side of the road

How?

Seeing how business was really lifting up this summer I realised I won’t be going on vacation any time soon. Which meant I had some extra cash to spend. So, after leaving work one day, as I was traveling home I saw a billboard saying “Get your motorcycle license and training here”.

I was puking rainbows. Heart was racing. The extra non-vacation cash was itching.

My boyhood dream. The life of freedom staring me in the face. I just had to get out of the stinkin’ tram and make my dreams come true. It was that easy.

So I did. I got in to the office and proudly exclaimed “I wanna get a motorcycle license!”, like a knight in shining armor who came to slay the dragon and save the damsel in distress.

“That’s nice. Please fill out these forms.” — lady in the office said.

So freedom begins by filling out forms. Ok. I’m down with that. I filled out the forms and it was their turn to give me my freedom and make me a badass.

“Ok. The lessons are **A SHIT LOAD OF MONEY**, but since you already have a car driving license for you it’s gonna be only **STILL A SHITLOAD OF MONEY**. You also must get the required health check-up and a psych evaluation for **ALSO A SHITLOAD OF MONEY**. When you’re done bring us the results and we can start the lessons!” — the nice young lady in the motorcycle training office said.

Hm. That’s a bit more expensive than I expected. And a health checkup? That means peeing in a cup and hospital waiting rooms. Well, at least psych evaluation for driving is like IQ testing from the movie “Idiocracy”; they basically let monkeys do it.


Conclusion

So freedom costs **STILL A SHIT LOAD OF MONEY**, requires a health check-up and a psych evaluation.

Ok. I’m in. Let’s start driving already! After the lessons, freedom and bad-assery is just around the corner… or is it?

Disclaimer

This happened in July of 2014 and was written in September 2016.

Post originaly published on gipsypiratebikers.com