Quote:
Originally Posted by Neal Stevens
I don't know, why do they have laws that specify a person must cross a street at a crosswalk, why do bus drivers tell you to sit down before the bus begins moving, why do carnival operators insist you have the lap bar down and locked before the rollercoaster begins...
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These things endanger not only the person doing them, but others as well.
The driver is put at risk by the jaywalker- they must do illegal things in order not to hit him.
The other passengers are put at risk by the standing person- who the driver must devote precious attention to, rather than the road.
The person standing on the coaster puts everyone on the ride in jeopardy, he upsets the balance of the ride.
Riding without a helmet puts no one but yourself in danger- even though you're already in enough danger- so it's not exactly the same.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Neal Stevens
Like I said, riding a motorcycle in itself could be considered a bad idea, a stupid thing to do when cars are available, but I choose to do it. I guess if a guy insists on upping the risk factor substantially by going helmetless, I won't say anything. Like a lion tamer who sees a fellow lion tamer go into the cage covered with meat, I have to wince when I see it. Buddy, it's gonna be nasty if you ever come off that bike.
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Riding a bike IS a stupid thing to do!
There are no two ways around it!
I'm straddling 1100cc's of Honda's finest, able to do 140+ mph on level ground, and all the laws of physics state that I am placing myself in mortal danger just by getting in the saddle. It's a fact that cannot be ignored... only bound, gagged, and tossed off into some dark closet in the back of my mind for the duration of the ride. After that, I have to drag it back out to my conscious mind, loose it, lie to it and tell it that I love it and I'll never do it again and that I'm going to take it to dinner and a movie to make up for the whole thing.
I have slid halfway down Red Mountain in B'ham after the back brake locked up on me. Only Almighty God kept me from becoming a greasy spot on 280... but I pulled off at a service station, swilled a bottle of Gator-Aid, smoked only the 6th cig I ever lit in front of my father, and climbed right back on.
We made over 600 miles that day- and more than 500 was after that.
I know just how dangerous that it is when my Uncle crosses the Florida line and takes his skullbucket off... but he's 45 years old and frankly, it ain't nobody's place to tell him he's in the wrong as long as his riding doesn't endanger others.