Down the road, life is more enjoyable if you’re on a journey with people you care about.
Motorcycles are quick. Even the snootiest Ferrari owners admit this. Bikes burn through the streets at a billion miles-an-hour with a screaming engine that barks at anyone who even looks at it funny. This is in fact an appealing vision until you realize what kind of person rides these super-bikes. It’s always the guy who wears his hat backwards and blasts ‘Soulja Boy’ out his truck at other drivers through his oversized speakers. It’s the guy who wants to feel more powerful than others. This hypothetical man either hasn’t considered the dangers of riding a dangerous motorbike or doesn’t care about forfeiting his life for something as trivial as his morning commute. To many of us motorists share this selfish, hedonistic attitude.
We should all aspire to be minivan drivers instead of moto-racers. Nobody regards the long road trips in the family van as the best times of their lives–but that’s what they are. I can remember one time in particular during my childhood when my family and I drove to Illinois. After the first five hours of sleeping, playing the gameboy, and listening to music, I could no longer contain my restlessness. I discretely turned the heated seat feature on full blast for the sibling seated next to me. I can say without any form of exaggeration that this otherwise comfortable luxury was able to make even the coolest derrière perspire obscene quantities… especially because it was the middle of July. As the seat was getting up to temperature and sweat began to form, I made more than a few pointed comments about how “the sun seemed uncharacteristically bright that day” and how I thought her shorts were “hot.” When she finally caught on, my sister stealthily turned the heat off and switched mine on without uttering a word. I was oblivious of what she had done until she inquired whether or not I could use some antiperspirant. I cursed her devious ways. The few moments when everyone was laughing heartily were enough to make me realize that the best part of life is spending time with family: the people who make you happy.
The next time you buy a vehicle, remember the importance of keeping people who love you around and take the lame, manufactured-in-bulk minivan in the dull Japanese dealership instead of the bred-in-Italia, motorcycle monster in the showroom across the street.
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