Well before being labeled a Viking (a label I am totally OK with, by the way), I was just a guy who knew he liked motorcycles. A lot. If I were to list all the motorcycle-related things I read and watched and purchased prior to actually getting a motorcycle, you might think I had a bit of an obsession.
I know that no one would make that mistake now, of course,
Way back in those long-gone days, I read an article about motorcycle commuting that said one should not ride if sick, angry, depressed, etc. etc. And I suppose that's pretty good advice, assuming that you've got a car to get around with.
I don't. I've got my choice of motorcycle or scooter.*
According to that article, one of the many, many conditions for not riding is, "if you are running late." The reasoning being that you'll be all distracted and panicky and will end up ground into hamburger underneath an 18-wheeler and then your family will be all sad and your important projects at work won't get finished.
Well, this morning I was running late. My choice was Vespa or Triumph. I considered the 15 minutes I'd save by riding the Triumph vs. the safety of a sedate scooter ride. A wiser biker than me once said that when he had to make a decision about riding, he'd ask himself, what would Beowulf do?
And I figured Beowulf wouldn't be much for tooling along surface streets when he could be blazing a fiery trail down the HOV lane.
So I took the Triumph. Arrived early.
*OK, I can carpool with Lady Luck, but it's a hassle for her to navigate through downtown Phoenix and I'd really rather ride on most days. I could also take public transportation, which I've done a few times and again, I'd rather ride.