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Old 10-15-2013, 06:00 PM   #8
Kommando
Grumpy Young Man
 
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Joined: Nov 2006
Location: Spacecoaster FL
Oddometer: 7,057
Quote:
Originally Posted by Reduxalicious View Post
Well, Having talked to my father, (Who is my reason for riding now) While he said he's always been and still is nervous about me riding, he NEVER once thought about telling me no, or Hanging it up so I wouldn't ride--His exact words were

"You can't live life scared, I lost one son (Unrelated to Motorcycles), but I don't let that cloud how I treat you, If you're a Christian or just believe in god, then Riding a bike or not isn't going to determine when it's your time."

Teach them about riding, teach them about gear--Let them learn from their mistakes that ALL OF US made as noobs, teach them that the speed of the bike is only going to be equal to the twist of ones wrist.
...unless it putt-putts off of a cliff in Middle-Of-Nowhere Utah or something.




Dirt can be dangerous too. LIFE is dangerous. It's so dangerous that nobody comes all the way through it alive.

My mom and my stepdad got me into riding street. Neither of them ride anymore. My stepdad passed away from a heart attack just a few short years after retirement. My mom doesn't like that I still ride, street OR dirt, and she still rides her quad around her farm without a helmet. She also understands that even if I live my life curled up on the couch in a fetal position, surrounded by doctors and fluffy CE-approved pillows, I STILL won't live forever. Besides, that's no kind of life to live...afraid to do anything, except cower in the house.

There are all kinds of things to fear in life. From living a lot of my life in Chicago, unarmed, and as a diminutive non-gangmember of unintimidating presence, I tend to be very untrusting of people. I've had to force myself to have anything to do with anybody. Sometimes, you have to make a conscious decision like that, to stare the world in the face and say, "Bring your best, or bring your worst, but just bring it. I choose not to live my life in fear.".
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Some are guard dogs of the flock. Some herders, search/rescue, or companions. We Devildogs are those, and also retrievers. Hell is our blazing dogpark, our frigid swimming hole. The fallen are our tennis balls. We don't leave the fallen behind, even if the master has to bring them home for us. Semper Fi, my friends.
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