Why Everyone Should Ride Motorcycles

Riding a motorcycle is dangerous. There’s no way around it. You’re 27 times more likely to die in a motorcycle crash than you are in a car crash. Paralysis, loss of limbs, or death are possible in any accident, even seemingly minor ones that car occupants will walk away from unscathed. Full stop. 

Since I learned to ride, I became obsessed with finding excuses, explanations for the danger that wouldn't include myself. I looked for facts and statistics I could point to to tell myself, “See Owen, it’s actually safe if...” to continue to justify riding. It’s true, there are avoidable factors at play that partially account for the high rate of motorcycle fatalities. Higher rates of intoxication among motorcyclists, lack of helmets and other proper safety gear, speeding and other unsafe driving on the part of the rider, and so on. 

The fact remains, however, that if you get into an accident on two wheels, you simply aren’t protected. If a car hits you, the car is hitting you. If you crash, the only thing protecting your body from the pavement, or a telephone pole, or a tree, is the gear you’re wearing.

There are tons of articles online about why you shouldn’t ride, both from non-riders who think riding is reckless and unsafe and from riders who argue that those of certain mentalities won’t last long on two wheels and should stay away. The latter group certainly has a point. The faux invincibility and power you feel with an engine between your legs and a hand on a throttle is intoxicating. Of the manageable dangers of riding, keeping your head in check is the biggest. If you can’t check yourself, you’re destined to become a grease stain. Even when you read articles about why you should ride, though, they typically don’t cite the danger as a positive factor. 

I’m about to tell you why the inherent dangers of riding a motorcycle are actually the practice’s biggest benefits.

In a cushy, digital age, we mostly live vicariously, through the media we consume. The television shows and films we watch, the video games we play, the social media we follow daily, the stories we read, the list goes on. We live our lives through the filter of a screen. Even for those of us that travel or spend time outdoors, adventure is waning. The trails are over-trafficked, there’s a WiFi signal everywhere, a McDonalds in every country. We’re all plugged up to the same machine. 

There is very little accessible to the common person that brings us to the edge, forcing us to reckon with our own mortality. Most of us are likely to die in bed at home, at a ripe old age. Some would see that as a benefit, a positive result of humanity’s technological evolution. Largely, I agree, but there is also great benefit in having a relationship with our mortality, in being forced to stare it in the face and accept it.

There are plenty of activities that bring us to the edge, like BASE jumping, high-altitude mountaineering, paragliding, and the like, of course, but the barriers to entry are quite high. Moreover, these pursuits demand an intensive process. We’re heading into another landscape, bringing gear and mapping lines. The process is definitively “separate” from our daily, 9-5 lives.

Motorcycling, on the other hand, brings that danger into our daily lives. Everyday tasks like going to the pharmacy, the post office, work, or the gym, now demand a high level of attention and respect, if you’re riding a bike. When you’re on a bike, all four limbs must be in tune. Your clutch, your shifter, your throttle, your brakes. Your head has to be on a swivel, your body has to be positioned properly. There is no room for error. A single flick of the wrist, a patch of gravel, a car turning into your lane, and you’re dead. As such, riding motorcycles is perhaps the most accessible way for the average individual to put themselves in a situation daily that demands their fullest attention, which warrants a reckoning with mortality.

I mentioned one’s own head as being the biggest “manageable” risk factor above, but there are some risks that are impossible to mitigate. You can be the most alert, experienced rider in the world, wearing full gear, and if a car pulls out in front of you you could be seriously injured or killed. Sometimes there’s no way around it. 

That’s precisely the reason why riding a motorcycle is such a beneficial practice for the mortal psyche.

It forces us to be alive. 

Each time I suit up and head out onto the streets I know I’m rolling the dice. Of course, we’re rolling the dice every time we get out of bed. We could die in a car crash, on the toilet, or sitting at home gorging ourselves on Taco Bell, yeah, but on a bike that knowledge is in our face. It’s unavoidable, a bright flashing neon sign screaming “Life is short!.” We’re forced to reckon with the fact that we’re unprotected, alone, traveling at a high speed on an inherently unstable device. 

The more I’ve started to ride, the more that knowledge has affected every aspect of my life, even when I’m off the bike. The way I treat my family and friends, the way I respond to obstacles and difficulties in my personal and professional life, the way I experience hardship.

Simply put, a motorcycle is a daily reminder of our mortality. A daily ride is a daily meditation on the inevitability of death. When we learn to sit with death on our shoulders, we live more deliberately and honestly. We learn to focus our thoughts in the present and center ourselves. 

You might die on a motorcycle, sure, but if you treat riding with the respect it’s due, a motorcycle is guaranteed to teach you something about how to live.