This post was contributed by a community member. The views expressed here are the author's own.

Health & Fitness

Why Do You Ride A Motorcycle?

"Those who dance are considered insane by those who cannot hear the music." — George Carlin

People have asked me this many times and I have often told my story, but have never taken the time to write it all down. Until now.

When I was very young, maybe 5 years old, an older cousin of mine got his first motorcycle and gave me a ride on it. Somebody lifted me up onto the gas tank and my cousin showed me where to hold onto the handlebars, well inside of the hand grips. (Note, this practice is very illegal in the state of Illinois nowadays and despite my identifying this as a pivotal point in my life, I am not condoning any such illegal practice in this happy-go-litigating age.)

I can still recall feeling the engine vibrations as my hands gripped the inner portion of the handlebars. I can still recall the adult voices – the loudest of which was my mother's – telling me to hold on and urging my cousin to be careful.

Find out what's happening in Plainfieldwith free, real-time updates from Patch.

And I shall never, never forget the sensation of rolling down the driveway under power and riding through the residential streets of Blue Island's east side. I am sure we never got out of second gear – the speed limit on those streets is still 20 mph – but I remember the feel and sounds of the engine working through those gears and then revving back down to idle each time we came to a stop sign.

In all, we might have been gone for five minutes. To me, those were five minutes in heaven.

Find out what's happening in Plainfieldwith free, real-time updates from Patch.

When we pulled back into my uncle's driveway, somebody lifted me from my perch and set me back on the ground. With a thick Italian accent that was so common to me back then, one of the grown-ups asked me how I had liked my ride on the motorcycle. Without hesitation, I turned and pointed toward the machine to proclaim, “I want one of those!”

My mother began hollering in Italian and I swear to you, she did not stop for the next 20 years.

Time continued on and there were many more rides over the years. I soon came to idolize not only the cousin who had given me my first ride, but also his younger brother, who not only took up motorcycling as well, but also began playing the electric guitar. To a young, impressionable lad as myself, they may as well have been gods.

Back in the early years, whenever I spoke about getting a motorcycle, the most frequent answer I received was, “When you grow up and get a job and you don't live in my house anymore, then we can talk about motorcycles. Until then, you better forget about it!”

Well, I grew up – sort of. I made it through college and got my first job. Then I got another job and an apartment of my own. But I needed year-round transportation, so I bought a car. I also had a girlfriend. Between the rent, the car payments and the girl, well, there was no money to be saved for a motorcycle.

I got married – another pivotal point, and after 25 years, still one of the happiest days of my life – but there was no money for a motorcycle.

We bought a house. It came with a mortgage. Any money that might have gone toward a motorcycle immediately got redirected.

I won a boat! It's true, I looked in the bottom of a can of Diet RC Cola and soon became the owner of a 17-foot bowrider with motor and trailer. But even free boats cost money and demand time – leaving little of either for a motorcycle.

We had kids. Two of them. At that point we could barely swing the mortgage, let alone enjoy the boat or entertain thoughts of anything so frivolous as a motorcycle.

Well, the years went on and after a while, things began to change, mostly for the better. My career began to take shape and as my earnings grew, I suffered a brief delusion of having discretionary income – foolish mortal that I was. We bought a house in Plainfield, which really isn't very close to water, and for roughly two years that followed, the boat and trailer sat beside our driveway, unused.

In 2002, not long after my 41st birthday, I began researching local opportunities for motorcycle rider training and quickly found the State of Illinois' Cycle Rider Safety Training Program. For all of twenty bucks, one can learn basic motorcycling skills via a 20-hour program that combines classroom learning with hands-on training, using motorcycles and even helmets provided by the program. Such a deal!

I took the class and I failed – got too psyched out during the rider skills portion of testing. One of the instructors encouraged me to come back and try again. This time I passed with a near-perfect score on both the written and range-riding portions of the test.

This plus an $8 fee at my local Driver Services facility immediately enabled me to add the “M” class certification to my license.

At some point, I had convinced myself that earning my “M” would mark the end of my endeavor. Foolish mortal that I was...

A work associate of mine, upon learning of my achievement and apparently seeing some bull's eye emblem on my back, immediately offered to show me a motorcycle that his son had bought new but could no longer afford to keep.

In rapid succession: My associate allowed me to test ride his son's low-mileage Honda motorcycle, I immediately made plans to sell my boat and used the proceeds to acquire my first bike. Roughly 37 years after having had my first motorcycle ride, I had finally achieved my personal goal of motorcycle ownership.

That was May 2003. I have since owned a total of three motorcycles – one at a time – and logged nearly 50,000 miles of blissful two-wheeled travel over the past nine years. Who says dreams don't come true?

Why do you ride a motorcycle?”

The truth be told, you could ask the same question of 50 motorcyclists and receive 50 unique answers.

Well, now you have heard mine.

We’ve removed the ability to reply as we work to make improvements. Learn more here

The views expressed in this post are the author's own. Want to post on Patch?