An insightful note from a guy my own age, a veteran motorcyclist, arrived in my email the other day. What is it like to arrive at the moment you have to get off two wheels? The answer, he advises, is not for sissies.
Here's what he wrote:
When I look at my drivers license and I see the "M" endorsement on it I have to chuckle knowing that those days are over.
I had a lot of fun and excitement in 60 years of motorcycling. Starting with the bloated silly-looking Dreamsicle-colored Jawa step-through moped straight through to the Triumph Bonneville and Honda grocery-getter, the journey was a huge part of my life.
Now, pushing 74 years-old, it is over. My motorcycle insurance doubled when I turned 72, never mind the fact that I never had any claims or accidents in all those years.
I also found out that my m/c insurance would increase every year not only because of my advancing age but also because the motorcycle is more than 20 years old; never minding the fact that it was serviced regularly and in excellent condition.
I am a fall risk; and while I didn't believe it at first, well, that time a few months ago when I fell getting off a bicycle and launched myself face-first into an evergreen bush and wiped off copious amounts of blood made a reluctant believer out of me.
There were also a few other incidents that caused other issues that I never told anyone else about.
"This happened to me???!!!"
My ego almost went into overdrive. Ah yeah, it did, and now I have to face the fact that growing old is not for sissies.
There are others my age that are facing issues far more serious than being relegated to driving a car; Dementia and Alzheimer's have ravaged more than I'd care to count, and diseases related to advancing age in light of poor lifestyle choices made years earlier are also taking their toll.
So, with that in mind I'll shut my mouth and count my blessings. Dammit — it was fun while it lasted.
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