I used to ride motorcycles. I put 10,000 miles on my CB450 in three months. Strapped my Fenwick ultralight with the Mitchell-Garcia 408 on the side and a box of jigs and caught smallmouth bass in every creek within a hundred miles.
Then one day, after a few close calls, I realized that the risk/reward ratio was no longer there, and gave it up.
You want to know something funny? My dad was, shall we say, very permissive of his little girl (me). He would say things like when I went away to college “I hope she drinks.” He wanted me to be tan and dress nicely and go out and have fun. He would buy me drinks in restaurants when I was underaged. He wanted me to go overseas to school very young.
But dad had had too many patients who rode motorcycles that could never walk again. There was only one thing he ever told me NOT to do. He told me never to get on a motorcycle. That was his only commandment.
And I never did except in Europe on back roads which seemed safer. It felt great, we were drunk on hard cider... and I lived. But I love to see bikers riding the highways or the canyons. It just looks like fun from my mom mobile. Lol.