motorcycle lifts

Enslaving Motorcycle, that's a contradiction in terms isn't it?

I read a post on a Motorcycle Forum ridiculing a fella for talking about the Freedom of the Open Road.

This great thinker posed the idea that a person who'd spent the money to ride a fine Motorcycle was enslaved by the cost of his obsession. He actually put it into the realm of hypocrisy.

Enslaved by my bike? uhhh... Don't think so.

Hmmm... I think, that statement and those like it are where the phrases... "If you don't ride... you don't know" and... "If I have to explain it to you, you won't understand", and "Only Motorcycle riders understand why dogs hang their heads out the window" came from.

Apparently, to achieve Freedom, in the eyes of these philisophical giants... You have to live naked in the jungle, living on bugs and drinking out of a creek or licking water off the leaves!

There is a cost to everything. There never has been, never will be, such a thing as a free ride. Let's face it... something that is free... ain't worth much... is it?

Freedom is one of the most expensive, and by far the most precious of things a man can own. The work he had to do, to put his butt on the Fine Motorcycle, that hangs the grin on his face and lights his spirit with the high shine of FREEDOM, is a sacrifice well made.

Enslaving Motorcycle? If the sheer, giggling, joy I get from riding a fine Motorcycle is Slavery... then Slavery has been maligned! I've always thought of slavery as grinding, painful, heart searing, imprisonment; something that does damage to you.

Roaring down the two lane... following my nose... splitting the wind on my V Star... and one day soon a sweet VICTORY Motorcycle... is not grinding... it ain't painful... and it sure ain't imprisonment.

An action that lifts the spirit, and motivates your imagination and ambitions is not hardly damaging.

A Motorcycle does however, often sear the heart. That's a pretty good description of the sensation you feel, when you come leaning around that last corner, coming out of a narrow canyon, up in Wyoming... as the road straightens out before you, the sun glittering off the dew on the grass, as the valley glows in front of you, and gets lost in the distant, misty horizon...

The giggles that were heard in your helmet, as you cranked through the bends in that river canyon, surrender to a soft... "Oh Lordy", as the beauty and the FREEDOM get hammered home... and you realize... with maybe a few tears you'll never admit to... just how fortunate you were... to be smart enough... to sacrifice those many hours...

... for the purpose of gracing your life... with a Fine Motorcycle.