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I Can’t Explain

As a rider you’ve probably been asked:  “Why do you ride that damn thing?”  How do you answer?  I can’t.  I end up so paralyzed for prose that I end up saying, “Why not?”  Which can lead to a litany of liabilities that carry a double underlined “Death:” followed by “Loss of limbs or motion” and the best of all:  “My cousin once knew a guy who had a friend that met a dude who’s stepbrother…yadda, yadda, yadda…who died/eats through a straw/was castrated by the gas cap.  OK, I may be exaggerating that last one but you know what I mean.

When it comes to riding non-riders don’t seem to get it.  In fact, a lot of riders don’t get it and make up fairly lame reasons.  Yes, some are tongued and can’t explain it with words but others just seem to be faking it.  I can’t explain it.  I can look into someone’s eyes and see it or the lack of it but putting it to paper is pretty damn difficult.  There is no blood test or Rorschach blob that looks like a bike which will expose the truth; you simply get it or you don’t. 

 How do you pour an experience so personal and intimate out to someone?  Lately there’s another issue I’ve been trying to get someone to say, “I understand.  I get it.  I’m empathetic.  Been there understand it.”  But I can’t express it and everyone who tries to sympathize with me feels like a poseur…they’re sincere but they’re in that ‘pat juniors head’ and satisfy themselves they tried mode.  

Then again ain’t that just life?  

 

About Brent Crash Allen

I Forgot, now you forget

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