Why do I ride?
February 6th, 2009 | Filed under: Motorcycles, Travel | RSS Feed

Note: This is a post that I migrated over from my old thiggins.com website that I wanted to share here on higgyb.com.

This isn’t a ride report nor some story about recent travels, but it’s something I thought was worth sharing anyway. A friend and fellow rider, Austen, previous sent a few of us a poem that does a great job of answering the question I often get asked about motorcycle riding: why do I ride? I thought I’d share it here for my family and friends to enjoy, you can always find it on the Why Go? page of the Horizons Unlimited website. Enjoy.

Why?
by James Richmond

‘Why do you do it?’ friends often ask, perplexed,
Brows raised, minds sorely vexed.
‘The world out there is dangerous!
Aren’t you scared? Why do this?
You need steady work, a house, two cars!
You have only a motorbike, and sleep under stars!’

Dear friend, if you must ask, you cannot know
This curiosity that drives me so.
To you it is hidden; in me rises unbidden!
But one day the world I’ll have ridden
By iron steed, then perhaps this need
Will have vanished, finally vanquished!
That day will find me on deathbed,
With no regrets for the life I led.

Will you be able to say the same?
Or will you despair a life worn plain?

I will stake my Himalayan memories
Against your estate of a thousand trees.
Pit my Thai sunset
Against your private jet.
Weigh my horse rides at sunrise
To your Italian suits and ties.
I’ll rejoice in friends before I go,
Not the figures of my stock portfolio.

And, amazingly, there are more like me;
They reject slavery, and are truly free.
They took the chance we all had,
And honestly it makes me sad
That you didn’t..
You thought you couldn’t…
What?
Live without the luxuries
Of all our modern amenities?
You choose the bonds of mortgage, but claim to be free,
Wasting a lifetime absorbed by TV.
Why watch it? but live it!
One life’s all you get!
Don’t put off ’til morrow and continue to borrow
The lives of strangers; ’tis the greatest of dangers
To the soul
Which grows old
Before its time.

Hercules, Columbus,
Guevara, Odysseus,
Champlain, Agamemnon,
The list goes on…
What have they in common?
Regardless man or god,
The soil of continents they trod,
Not in search of gold but adventure!
Not growing old ’cause they ventured
Far from safety; but far be it from me
To Judge…
——————–
The pitiless pity us
With souls black pitted.
Pray! save it for those less spirited.
For us… our horizons are unlimited.

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