I have finally discovered the key to transportation bliss.

Less wheels.

“That’s because less is more,” you smugly whisper into your overheated LCD, and, despite my utter abhorrence at the mention of this oft-misused phrase, I am forced to acknowledge its accuracy within this (and only this) particular context.

If you are anything like me, you enjoy being on the road. Whether you are the cruising type or an insatiable speed demon, traveling on the blacktop at faster-than-human speeds holds a certain appeal.

But no more than three months ago I had a serious problem. My vehicle was a Jeep: a 2001 Grand Cherokee Laredo. Please don’t misunderstand me; I loved this car. It looked like a boss, drove smooth, had sufficient torque (at least for the first two years), and other than the const… I mean… occasional… maintenance, it was overall a quality vehicle. Unfortunately, for a chea… *cough* excuse me… economical individual such as myself, nothing sapped the joy out of driving quite like 13 mpg. I found it impossible to take pleasure in the fading miles while the lost-dollar-meter ticked incessantly at the corner of my mind’s eye. Now we’ll add yearly, minimum-coverage insurance costs totalling one third of my car’s market value and you can understand why I spent my Friday nights quietly weeping in the corner.

Let’s be honest, as a fresh-faced university graduate staring down student loans and a year of ministry school to pay for them, I need the above expenses like I need O.J. Simpson baby sitting my future children. But what’s a guy gonna do? In today’s world, it is quite difficult to operate without a vehicle, and going without car insurance was ruled out when I opened my Bible. Thinking… thinking…thinki… oh, of course, I’ll just get a motorcycle.

Silly me, it’s so simple. No big deal. Just sell that Jeep and buy an unbalanced, motorized death machine. Oh yeah Jacob, remember when you learned to ride a bicycle, falling down time after time… after time after time. Ya’ know what that picture needs?… horsepower.

But seriously, if you’ve ever driven a car on a public road for more than seven minutes then you know that people in general are just awful drivers: I mean, straight up turrible, Kenny. The only explanation then, is that motorcyclists simply must be insane to enter this field of under-qualified, government-sanctioned pilots without so much as a bumper to shield them.

Motorcycles are dangerous and insane, so now let’s talk about why none of that matters.

For starters, this:



Is there really anything left to say? If the look on your former President’s face doesn’t make you want a motorcycle, your only hope is to continue reading.

Motorcycles are fun. I really don’t need any other reasons. Having fun is fun. When the commute is a blast, the less-than-exciting job feels a bit more enjoyable. When the trip is exciting, those errands don’t feel like a pain. When the journey is better than the destination, a hectic schedule never gets the chance to snatch away your entire day. And as I recently discovered, there is no such thing as a dry run when you’re riding a bike.

Now picture this. Imagine waltzing over to the gas station, filling up your gas tank, and staring at a $10 receipt. You do a double take and then slap yourself with a tight right hook to the jaw, attempting to wake up from this fairy tale dreamland. Whoops, there you go: all awake. Sorry, your bill was actually $60 dollars. But mine wasn’t. Every two weeks, after going to work every day, running errands, and spending ample time pleasure cruising, I fill my gas tank back up for a measly $10.

And regarding those ridiculous insurance premiums, I now pay around $400 a year for full coverage. And that expense will go down every single year (at least until I buy a more powerful bike).

The best part is, motorcycles are a fantastic choice for any age group. For the teenagers out there, you obviously have nothing to worry about as your teen invincibility has not yet expired (DISCLAIMER at the bottom). If you’ve reached your twenties, you’ll find that the peak of your athletic abilities, the absence of responsibilities, and your lingering love of toys all contribute to making this the ideal time for purchasing a bike. Reached the big 3-0? Nothing says, “This is my decade!” like burning rubber at 150 mph past that cop who ticketed you for “failure to dim lights” last year (this may or may not be Biblical).

Forties guys, you’re already nodding in agreement. No one has ever (EVER) witnessed a teenager complain about crappy dad jokes while pulling up to school on the back of a Harley. Fifty? Your friends and family are expecting a major mid-life crisis at this stage. Don’t disappoint them… don’t be that guy. Sixty? The kids are gone; now is the only acceptable time to purchase a new one and store him in the garage when you have more important things to attend to (the “one” in this sentence is using a grammatical pun to humorously reference a bike, not an actual human child). Seventy? You really probably shouldn’t be driving at all, which is exactly why you should be riding a motorcycle. Eighty and older? Repeat after me: “Bucket list!” “Bucket list!” “Bucket list!”

As you can see, motorcycles aren’t just a way… they’re the only way. Regardless of age, whether you’re pretending to know what you’re talking about or pretending to care about the ones talking, a bike is absolutely right for you (unless it’s not). So what are you waiting for? Cliché about seizing the future. Go have some fun (or don’t).




***DISCLAIMER*** The previous statement is a joke, and is not intended to be used as actual advice. Neither myself, nor Uncompromised Men will be held liable for your foolish teenage idiocy.


  1. I have experienced way to many bicycle accidents to add an engine to one of those contraptions. Yes, I will be sticking to good old pedals for “horsepower”.

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