Cut the c(b)raaap!

Dedicated to the disgusting and disturbing memory of the SO; No, rather in my case it always was the InSO (the InSensitive Other) and today as it also stands – the InSO (the Insignificant Other). Both are on the dot.

Read the below statement on some site on the internet and found it so undeniably true that could not refrain from sharing it (albeit modified a bit to add my tit-bits) on my personal blog. However, differing from the context this might have been actually written in, I adapt this in context of motorcyclists (and all references to “bikers” on this page should be inferred as “motorcyclists”). My up-close and personal trysts with one such entity, scarred me for life and gave me the lessons I could have have learned in other easier ways (may be!). This is certainly for keeps and always remind me of how after getting embroiled in the murk, I managed to save myself from getting totally drowned in that pile of garbage.

“People who are “serious” bikers are the most selfish pieces of human garbage on earth. Every hardcore biker I know retreats into a life of only talking to bikers about motorcycles and the associated facade of useless, pointless, shameless revelry. And their families are left far behind as they run around in disgusting perverted clothing, clogging up the roads that real family men use shuttling their families to family activities together. All the while these selfish loser bikers run about on child’s toys, being the absolute selfish pigs, man-child, closeted scums.”

What’s the fad?

Why is it so hard for them to look at a motorcycle, as

  • just assembled pieces of metal, alloys, and engine put together by bolts and weld,
  • just any man-made machine on wheels,
  • Heck! just another mode of transportation.

Man made this machine or did machine make the man?

The InSO would swear by that machine made that man. Lifeless non-living pieces of metal put together – Bikes, get personalized names, genders and true affection which even a dying human may not get. What would a conversation with  one such sound like?

InSO Biker: “I cannot imagine life before I had Halley and today a life without her. What a beauty!”

A sane friend: Aww! Would love to meet your daughter.

InSO Biker (smiles): I never intend to have kids. My Halley is my world and makes up for everything in my life. 

A sane friend : Aww! a loving husband you are, I must say. Your wife makes your world.

InSO Biker (retorts): Nah!! When did I say that? I am too consumed in my own frivolous self to share that with the entity called “wife”. She exists, but who cares!.

A sane friend (surprised): Oops! Sorry for mistaking your dog Halley with your “existent but inconsequential wife”.

InSO Biker: That’s Misty. She is a darling and please be kind enough to not address her as a dog. She is my baby, whom I am very protective of!

A sane friend (irritated by now): Duh! Who the hell is Halley then?

InSO Biker: My bike! The Harley I got a little over two years back and added to my existing brood of Enfield and Duke. 

A sane friend (angrily mutters): Ah! I See. #@*$!#%

The sane friend then realized that for some people the importance of a fellow Homo sapien, especially the one you are supposed to be with and be responsible for all your life, is no way near to that of the species Canis familiaris and a mechanical object engine running on two-wheels  The friend wondered, since when did alloy metal start getting precedence over the canine species and canine species treated over the species who cry, sweat, bleed and care for the sake of their love.

And while I was still getting used to dogs being addressed this way, the mechanical vehicles were added to the privileged species. Now I fear that day may not be far, when such people (like the InSO) , who are already treating emotional and loving human beings worse than “a piece of junk”, may soon discard them in the junkyard and have their loving hearts fed to the canine species (which the bikers are also fond of).

Bikes are someone’s way of life, the other’s soulmate, someone else’s breath and heart-beat, while another’s reason to live. To such a clan, bikes are worship-worthy and other bikers are heroes.

Let this clan of “self-proclaimed” biking enthusiasts/amateurs/pros know, any Tom-Dick-Harry can ride a bike; around half the world-population rides or know to ride, but wonder what runs through the cerebral hormones of the self-declared serious bikers, that none is any less of a Rossi (well, in their heads!).


Why is their sense of “normal” really an “extreme”?

When regular husbands are busy planning a family vacation with his wife and kids,  the biker husband is busy planning their next biking trip in order to find trails and corners to showcase (to whom?) what lame antics they could be capable of.

When regular couples are busy planning their life ahead, the vagabond biker husband is “solely” planning for the next bike he wants to own, the next helmet he wants to buy and the next riding and luggage gear he should own.

When regular husbands are busy securing the future of their families, the self-proclaimed “heroes” go racing around mountains to get the adrenaline rush they are addicted to and display their useless gigs.

When regular people look forward to return home to home food, love and care, these paranoids are in the never-ending quest for dirt, dirt-tracks, and mud to eat the slush the they are used to.

Of course, there are people who ride a bike to earn a living, there are others who ride to reach a place where they earn a living, and others may simply ride occasionally to enjoy the sense of living. And then there is a paranoid chunk who live with the bike,  by the bike, and for the bike! What do we call such people? What’s the fun in gallivanting like a nomad, a life which is only about you and never feeling to do anything else, let alone for anyone else?

Fine. That’s how you are wired!! Accepted! But then…..

Do not sweet-talk someone into getting into this life which you have chosen for yourself. Do not ruin all her dreams by wanting her to live in a make-believe world which does not even exist for you. Do not belittle her desires, her wishes simply because they do not align with yours. Do not trash her individuality just because it does not resonate with yours. Do not rubbish her hopes just because you have none to offer. Do not ever ruin her stable world just because you never ever knew what it means to be stable and how it feels to be so.

Having a family (a wife) is a burden, which thou shall bear till they serve some purpose to their heady rigid self, boasting with false pride and beaming in the joy of being a parasite. As and when the returns seems to be less rewarding I shall discard thou in trash and move on to the next ‘ride’, leaving behind a pile of emotions, questions, confusions, sorrows, tears, fears and an insane mind (which was once fertile, glowing and beaming). But again, who cares!

Dear InSO, to let you know. No one needs a ‘man-child’ to enlighten their life; the one who himself is incapable of becoming the sunshine in someone’s life. Rather he belongs to the breed of parasites who thrive on someone else’s sunshine until they have sucked out every last ray of light before moving on to the next source.

Me: Reality check.

InSO Biker (wondering): What is that?

Me: Huhh!! 

Will I ever understand this insanity? No. Never.
To each his own. But you display no macho-ism by doing something at the expense of someone else or levitating someone to it with misleading promises & fake assurances, then depriving the other of her rights and life.

Will I ever forgive this misdoing? No. Never.
Especially after having my life ruined by one such. Never in this life.

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