I will never be a motorcyclist.

April 4, 2011

So a while back, I went to my cousin’s house.  He lives in Palo Alto and is in 6th or 7th grade (currently), I really can’t be bothered to remember.

Anyways, he had this motorcycle thing except it had four wheels.  Also, it was colored red and yellow.  It had a top speed of what was probably 4.2 miles per hour.

I was so jealous.

It was basically that picture above, except without that thing in the back.

When I got to his house, he was just zooming around his backyard at 4.2 miles per hour.  I was shocked.  He didn’t have a helmet on.  But he didn’t fall, so it doesn’t really matter.

His little bro, who’s something like 7 right now, then switched places with my cousin that was on my bike, and then he started zooming around without a helmet.  I was utterly baffled by their seeming absence of any common sense, because seriously, if you fall off of that thing at full speed, you could probably break your head and hit the ground with such force that your family jewels cease to exist.

The difference is, no one will ever try to steal your FAMILY jewels.

Then my cousin, mistaking my he’s-totally-going-to-kill-himself-at-4.2-mph face as a I-want-to-ride-that-now face, asked me if I wanted to try it out.  Without a helmet.

Me being safety conscious me, and me having the level of maturity that I have, said Hell yes I wanna ride that thing.  Y’know, that thing that probably said “For ages 4-8” on it.

Anyways, I got on and totally had terrible control.  I repeatedly crashed it into their fence (and a concerned neighbor started throwing oranges at me) and almost ran over my brother, all while looking like a complete idiot, legs sticking out comically.  Then I lost balance and fell off.

You have to imagine all of this while listening to that music, right there.

Unfortunately, when I fell off, the bike didn’t stop moving.  Why? Because like actual motorcycles, the throttle was on the handlebar.

When I fell off, I was still holding onto the handlebar, and because I was holding it as I fell off, I dragged the throttle down to its max, which was probably somewhere around 4.3 miles per hour.  I was thus being dragged along by the freaking thing at 4.3 miles per hour.

When I finally gathered enough sense to just let go of the freaking handlebar, it almost immediately stopped, and so did I.  Unfortunately, my head did not get the memo and proceeded to smash itself on the seat of the bike.

This is pretty humiliating once you realize that this bike is designed for freaking kindergarteners. Which means that freaking kindergarteners make better motorcyclists than me.

Look at this smug little asshole. Just look at her.

And that is the story of why I will never be a motorcyclist.

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