It’s hard to not get down when you see what’s going on all around. The poltroonish passivity of the populace. Stay safe!
So I figured I’d show them something else.
The ’76 Kz900 came out to play yesterday – and me, too. Deep green and chrome, polished cases.
One illegal, the other seemingly on its way to being. Hence the necessity to ride without either. The time has come to say No to more than just Diapering. The time has come to say No to all of it.
To recover our senses, in other words.
The government has no legitimate business telling anyone they have to wear a helmet – or a Diaper (unless you’re one of those people who believes the government owns us and thus has the right to parent us;or rather, to her us – like cattle).
But the one follows the other, which is what Americans who want to be free of both – who want to decide for themselves how to live their lives – have got to relearn.
It was a grave, naive and hideous mistake to let them (the proto-Diaperers; the life-sucking people who wear and push them now, who were seeding the ground for them way back then) get away with passing helmet laws. And before that, seatbelt laws. By doing so, they made Diaper laws – not “guidelines” but the real thing, which are coming, if not resisted – a fait accompli more than 30 years ago, when the first buckle-up laws laws were enacted.
Fifty-plus, if you go back to the very first seatbelt laws, which – at first – only required that new cars be equipped with them. It took another decade or two before laws began to issue requiring people to wear them. That having been tolerated, it was inevitable that people would be forced to wear helmets, too.
And soon, Diapers.
Seatbelts keep you saaaaaaaaaaaaaafe! Helmets do the same! How does one, having accepted this, deny that Diapers do the same? It doesn’t matter that you – as an individual – may derive no benefit from the seatbelt or the helmet – or the Diaper. The argument is that you might; that someone might.
Ergo, you must.
This is a principle far more obnoxious than King George’s petty taxes, which was enough to motivate a group of men to say No. They were not passive poltroons. Soy hadn’t gelded them; caving in to social pressure – at the price of their honor – was a thing that men such Washington, Sam Adams and Patrick Henry would have rather died than do.
And so, they didn’t.
I try to emulate their example – by not Diapering, ever, anywhere. Because I am not sick, of course – and refuse to pretend I might be because some poltroons worry I could be. But also because for all my many faults, I am a man, and that brings with it certain obligations, if I wish to be able to tolerate my refection in the mirror.
Not performing Diaper Kabuki being among them.
I’m done ceding ground, putting up with these incremental affronts – because it’s no longer a matter of putting up with an annoyance, like a mosquito in the backyard while you’re enjoying an otherwise nice afternoon. It is the loss of the backyard itself to the mosquito. The giving away of every last thing until you have nothing left except a Diaper around your face and taped lines telling you where to stand.
If you can stand that.
A quick check of the air in the tires. Rotate the tap to On. Ignition hot – and one kick, just right, to awaken the mighty DOHC 900. I recommend this latter hugely. There is no art to pushing a button. When you kick a bike to life, there’s no starter motor prequel. Just the right now unannounced roar of the big four coming online, spitting through the four pipes and sucking through the four carbs.
Ease the kicker back to the rest position; adjust the choke and let her idle even out. Without a helmet, you can hear everything – and see everything. You miss nothing. This is the feel of freedom.
You, the bike, the road and the wind and the sun in your face, experiencing life rather than living in poltroonish fear of death. Americans cheered this sort of thing once. Maybe one day, they will cheer it again.
In the meanwhile, those who fear living it can wear their helmets and their Diapers. But they’d better leave this unDiapered dude alone.
Because he’s had enough.
Maybe you have, too.
If enough of us make that crystal clear, we’ll have more than the wind in our hair again.
We’ll have our freedom again.
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