A grey-haired Aussie Harley Davidson rider was talking about the myth that you get too old to ride motorcycles. Picture: Facebook: Old Not Dead
The last place I expected to get interesting life advice this week was from a grey-haired Aussie Harley Davidson rider on a YouTube channel.
On his Old, not dead platform, he was talking about the myth that you get too old to ride motorcycles.
While many regard the pastime as a “young man’s (or woman’s) game”, maturity can make its enjoyment more pleasurable… and a helluva lot safer.
When you’re older, you’re more careful and you can weigh risks better.
The other benefit of the “golden years” is that, in many cases, the kids have left home and the house may be paid off, so there’s more money and time.
What resonated for me was his assertion that “you’re never too old” to take up motorbiking or, in my case, to resume it.
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In my 20s, I had an on-off-road “trail” bike which was a loud, smelly, smoky Yamaha two-stroke nicknamed The Flying Snot – because of its lurid green colour.
It ran out of puff at 90km/h but it pinned your ears back getting there.
Oddly enough, I still dream of my Yamaha – literally – and feel once again that thrill of youth.
Bruce the Biker was adamant that the one thing which doesn’t slow down as you age is your ability to learn new things… so give it a go, the voice inside my head said.
I had also recently read a post on Facebook from an American airline captain, who was about to retire at 65 after more than 30 years flying.
Just the year before, he said, he had been on a course to learn to fly the Airbus A350, a huge tech step-up from the old-school Boeing 767 he had been in charge of.
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Everyone thought he would fail, trying to learn the 7 000 pages of manuals and repeated A350 flight simulator outings.
But he passed with flying (ha, ha) colours.
And his message was: Don’t let anyone tell you that you are too old.
A spell in hospital earlier this year, although it was for something comparatively minor, was a reminder that I am no longer 19 and there is way less ahead of me than behind me.
So what I am trying to do is, if not stop and smell the roses, is at least savour the new or a challenge… and that may mean getting a motorcycle licence and finding the great-great-great-grandson of the Flying Snot.
