Saturday, November 13, 2004
Too Much Polishing Leads To Idolatry
As a matter of principle, I don't wash the bike all that often. I'm one of those riders that loves riding way more than I love any motorcycle. Sure, I love a bright, shiny, clean bike as much as the next guy, but I'd rather ride than spend hours every week cleaning, polishing, and fussing over my ride. Unfortunately for me, today is going to be a cleaning day.
I was headed back to work after lunch yesterday, headed down the local interstate at a slightly illegal rate of speed. Way up ahead, I saw quite a lot of smoke, and figured that there was a really bad wreck. I slowed down a little, increased the spacing between myself and the guys in front of me, and started paying very careful attention to traffic. To my surprise, there was no gridlock up ahead and no wreck.
About 10 miles later, I found out where all of the smoke was coming from. There wasn't a fire, there wasn't a wreck, but there was an 18-wheeler, sans trailer, belching some seriously stanky exhaust out onto the freeway. As I got ready to pass him, I was baptized in what I thought at the time was soot. When I finally got back to work and looked the bike over, I found droplets of oil all over the front of my bike. That jackass had blown a gasket and was spraying oil all over the interstate. Now I've got to wash the bike, one of my least favorite chores of all.
Thanks a lot, dude.
As a matter of principle, I don't wash the bike all that often. I'm one of those riders that loves riding way more than I love any motorcycle. Sure, I love a bright, shiny, clean bike as much as the next guy, but I'd rather ride than spend hours every week cleaning, polishing, and fussing over my ride. Unfortunately for me, today is going to be a cleaning day.
I was headed back to work after lunch yesterday, headed down the local interstate at a slightly illegal rate of speed. Way up ahead, I saw quite a lot of smoke, and figured that there was a really bad wreck. I slowed down a little, increased the spacing between myself and the guys in front of me, and started paying very careful attention to traffic. To my surprise, there was no gridlock up ahead and no wreck.
About 10 miles later, I found out where all of the smoke was coming from. There wasn't a fire, there wasn't a wreck, but there was an 18-wheeler, sans trailer, belching some seriously stanky exhaust out onto the freeway. As I got ready to pass him, I was baptized in what I thought at the time was soot. When I finally got back to work and looked the bike over, I found droplets of oil all over the front of my bike. That jackass had blown a gasket and was spraying oil all over the interstate. Now I've got to wash the bike, one of my least favorite chores of all.
Thanks a lot, dude.
