This is not an advertisement against crotch rockets, nor is it a message against adrenaline junkies or careless youngsters. It is true that the crack in the road could make an instant hardness measurement of a 60mph speeding concrete and a leather jacket, and it is true that in these situations your own bike becomes a wild beast grabbing for any limb it can catch and use as a protection against roughness of asphalt, but that is not important here.
What is important is adrenaline rush of leaning in the turn, knowing there is no puddle to interfere with your tires gripping to the asphalt.
And excitement of checking the morning weather to see if it is going to be sunny entire day, knowing that meteorology is an exact science, so you can count on a rain free ride back home.
And jealous looks of those poor four-wheelers when you come to the beach and peel off your layers of protection one after another, looking for a place to safely store them while proudly showing off your thigh burnmarks - sign that you are in the privileged club of those who can lough in the face of the danger, and appreciate fine things in life like the sound of the motorcycle, exhaust fumes of cars in front of you and direct exposure to the road rage.

P.S. This photo is done using office materials only (coworker biked to work, and boss of my boss had this skull in his office).
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Никада нисам схватао зашто ми моји родитељи нису дозвољавали да купим мотор. Стварно је безвезе што ми је детињство прошло без тог искуства.
Разумем зашто не желим да се моја деца возикају са тим справама, али то је тотално друга ситуација и нема никакве везе једно са другим.