In the garage where I park my bike, there are approximately  40-50 motorbikes. I park among 13-15 of them lined side by side, on side-stands, along a wall positioned relatively close to the garage’s entry. The rest of the bikes are parked in a more distant area, mostly on centre-stands, apparently, these are the ones used less often.

Since the parking places are not numbered nor assigned to users, my neighbours change frequently – once I may find a place between a Triumph Tiger and a Ducati Scrambler, another time between a Yamaha MT-7 and a Honda Gold Wing, another time between a Vespa and a Harley. It’s nice to see the garage “in-motion”: places of the bikes change, meaning they’re taken out, ridden, put back. It’s good, healthy.

Then, looking more carefully, one can spot motorcycles that do not change position so often,  bikes used less frequently than others. I feel almost sorry for those bikes, as if they have their own feelings, anxious to know whether they turn depressed when abandoned for long. A funny sensation, obviously not a serious thought.

Considering the bikes as living entities is quite common among dedicated bikers as it is common to admire the beauty and the perfection of these pieces of engineering; in a silent garage, with no confusion around, contemplating a bike is like admiring a woman when sure that no one would catch you looking.

Among all bikes one stands out: it is a Harley-Davidson CVO Street Glide, sparkling in a light brown hue, with a multi-colour gorgeous painting. One does not need to be a  Harley fan to recognize the beauty and the appeal of such good-looking bikes.

This Beauty is by far the least used in the whole garage: always in the same spot, immobile as a Praxitelic statue.

Sometimes it surprises me, not in the usual place,  happy thinking that it’s finally taken out for a rock and a roll, but then… there it is, all alone in a remote corner of the garage with a battery charger plugged into an outlet on the wall.

Difficult for me to understand the mentality of the owner: may be a well-off  guy with numerous hobbies: diving, racing, sailing, paragliding and many more that consume all the time and keep him/her away from biking.  Maybe she works too hard and no time is left for sport. Maybe the Harley was a gift, or the whim of a moment. Still I do not understand why buying a rather expensive motorbike to abandon it in an underground garage.

Is it the joy and satisfaction of “owning”? Because if you don’t ride, actually, if you don’t ride your bike at least 3-4 times a week, you cannot enjoy riding.  I believe that if one rides less than a few times a week, every time one returns to the bike there is a recuperation phase for regaining skills that makes it difficult to fully  enjoy the flow.

Still many planes, boats, cars and bikes are left “parking”. Still many bikers clubs call themselves “owners’ club” (BMW, Harley Davidson, Honda) not “riders club” indicating different sources of pleasure: for some just the possession is enough.

But then, one should at least consider the principle of asset management. It’s sad that we work so hard to have so many assets yet in the end we don’t have the time left to utilize those assets anymore.  Perhaps I should look at myself that way as well! Probably there are millions of people who would see some of my possessions exactly the same way. I’ll certainly think about that; for a more refined (and fulfilling) life with less possessions.

In Turkish, we have a saying: “rich man’s possessions make poor man’s chin tired”.

For sure more possessions mean more exploitation, less equality, less sincere pleasure. For bikes sometimes it means to be left behind.