Quiggenbottom's Syndrome by Quiggenbottom (VOL archive)

[volusiaguy]

Who’s Crazy?
by Quiggenbottom


One of us has a problem. I’ll give you the facts, you decide.



I have been told I am insane because I ride a motorcycle. Not crazy or foolish or stupid but insane. Since I am accepted as normal in all other respects I must assume this is a very particular type of insanity. You can’t call it temporary insanity because I’ve had it all my life. Maybe the proper term is “Motorcycle Specific Insanity”. That sounds official. I like that. Maybe I’ll get credit for diagnosing the condition and it will be called “Quiggenbottoms’ Syndrome”. I’ll be famous.

I don’t mind being accused of insanity because I ride. I’ve said the same of skydivers. What I mind is that I can’t defend myself. Being of limited intellect and education I am at a disadvantage in any argument and especially one where I am emotionally involved. Can you imagine what would happen if I told a shrink that I loved my bike? I wonder what the food is like in those places.

The conversation went something like this:

Accuser: “You can get killed on those things!”
Me: “Yeah I know”
Accuser: “ You have two cars, you don’t need that thing.”
Me: “Yeah I know.”
Accuser: “What happens if it rains?”
Me: “I get wet.”
Accuser: “ Your insane!”
Me: “Yeah I know”

Someday I’ll get out the dictionary and look up insanity. I don’t have time right now. I’m busy writing about something I know nothing about.

Being down, depressed, sad, they used to say melancholy, is a form of mental illness I suppose. It seems it’s just a matter of degree, I don’t know. I get that way sometimes and even a short ride makes me feel better, more alive, and ready for what ever comes next. That’s good medicine don’t you think? And if that is true then you could say I was insane before the ride and saner after. And doesn’t it follow that the more I ride the saner I’ll get? It’s worth a shot. Maybe Blue Cross will buy the gas. Makes sense to me but then I’m nuts, I ride a motorcycle.

Could it be there is a personality type who will be totally bonkers if he never gets into cycling? No bike - no medicinal ride to keep him sane. Rubber rooms may be full of them.

You have to wonder about the sanity of people who say motorcycle riders are insane and then buy their kids a bicycle for their birthday. He did that.

I’ve also heard him use the term “motorcycle maniacs” like we are all axe murders or something. I did look that one up and maniac means fanatic or enthusiast or devotee. So I’m a fan of motorcycles. And I am very devout. The Pope is very devout and nobody calls him a maniac.

As far as getting killed on one of those “things” goes, I believe when your number comes up you’re a dead man. Doesn’t matter where you are or what you are doing, you’re history.

A dozen years back a guy was traveling on a divided highway. He lost his left front wheel. Traffic was heavy but he managed to cross three lanes and avoid collision before he hit a cement barrier. It seems the barrier was weak at that point and he sailed over a 75-foot embankment and came to rest on the railroad tracks below. I have no idea how they determined he was still alive when the train hit him but that was the report. This guys’ number was up! Had he survived the collision with the locomotive he would have been knocked into the river and drowned. See what I mean?

Now if I must die I would rather die doing something I like. Either on a bike or shot in the back by an irate husband will do. Preferably, this will happen at a very advanced age.

I have no fear of death. I have a fear of dying with vacation time still on the books. And I don’t want to die alone or in my sleep. You see, I’ve prepared a list of “famous last words” lines for various situations and committed it to memory. I want the chance to use one of those lines. Say I rear end an SUV. I will look up at the driver, smile, ask for a cigarette, and say to her; “Was it good for you?”

Now, that remark about having two cars and not needing a bike; I do need a bike! I’d be insane to ride without one.

There was a guy in high school we called “Knocker”. He used to kick start his nonexistent Harley and run through the halls making vroom-vroom noises and leaning around the corners. Everyone thought Knocker was nuts. Even Janie (Edsel) Sloan said he was strange. (I won’t go too far into the origin of that nickname but picture someone with headlights on her knees. It’ll help if you are old enough to remember what an Edsel looked like.) Ole Knocker left his hog parked outside the music room one day and Edsel fell over it. Head over heels, heels over head would be more accurate. She said she didn’t see it. But we saw it, all of it! That was the day she got her nickname. The truth is she tripped over her own feet but we blamed it on Knocker anyway. He said he was sorry and moved his bike.

What happens if it rains?

That’s a dumb question if I’ve ever heard one! Even my dog knows what happens when it rains, you can’t get her out the door! Ah, but he can top that one. It’s 35 degrees and raining, I pull into the parking lot in my Jeep and he says; ”How come you didn’t ride your scoot to work today?” (Scoot! He likes to talk like a biker.) Because, you moron, I find it impossible to drive a car and ride a bike at the same time!

Let me describe my accuser. Nice man, about 45 years old, good worker, good family man and he doesn’t seem overly opinionated on any other subject, just motorcycles. He wears engineers’ boots. (Black of course) He has never owned a bike, never ridden one.

I think he has Motorcycle Specific Insanity. I, on the other hand, am totally sane eight months out of the year during the riding season. I have Quiggenbottoms’ Syndrome too, but I take my medicine.
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VR#13 and VOL#247

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