Mike (pi3832) wrote in motorcycles,

It is NOT a race

I was in the left hand-lane, the third vehicle trapped behind some dipshit in a white Lexus puttering along just ever so slightly faster than the bigfuckingtruck in the right hand lane.

Behind the BFT was a guy in a blue Cavalier, obviously grousing about being slowed down. I was in his blind spot, a bad place to be. But to accelerate up next to his window where he could see me would put me less than 2 seconds behind the car in front of me. Decisions, decisions.

While I dithered, the Cavalier's turn signal came on and here he comes! Luckily, he did a shoulder check, and decided not to kill me. (Thanks.)

The sad thing is, I didn't realize until much later what I should have done: I should have slowed down.

I was so caught up in the competition of traffic, I never even explored the option of slowing down. By slowing down, I would have been out of the danger-zone of the Cavalier coming into my lane and also would have avoided following too close.

Sure, the Cavalier probably would have cut into my lane, forcing me to slow down a little more to make adequate space between us, but so what?!

It's not a race. I will not receive a trophy, a check and a peck on the cheek from a hot chick for getting to my destination 125 milliseconds sooner.

It is so very easy to get caught up in the competition of traffic. Of trying to defend against that asshole who wants to cut you off. Of trying to teach that lane-switching jerk a lesson.

But it's all bullshit. No one cares. That guy isn't learning anything, he's just getting more and more dangerous with every passing mile marker. You're not winning any prize. Indeed, you're losing. You're losing your cool, you're losing your Zen, you're losing your mind.

The only prize is getting to your destination unharmed and sane.

Be the Zen rider. Let the unenlightened go before you.

Once the traffic has cleared, and the road has shed its stoplights and stopsigns and speed bumps like your lover shedding her clothes, that's when you shift it down one, whack the throttle, and welcome the Dark Side into your heart as you roar into triple-digit cold sweats.
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