This piece was written in 2019 by Hakan Erman for a project called “Parallel rides”, trying to get lessons from motorcycling that we can apply to life
Once upon a time, if you needed to get your bike washed in Istanbul, you had to persuade and bribe a car washer. Time change and now have specialised motorcycle washing bays. In one of these services, I recently enjoyed my coffee and observed different styles on two wheels. Some reminded me of my excitement and enthusiasm at the beginning, and some were moving on different paths.
A green Harley Davidson Road King rode in with monkey bars and a decent amount of chrome bits and pieces, including a helmet and wallet chain. The rider in his early 40s, although looking like he was hanging down the tall bars, was very competent in manoeuvring and parking his half-a-ton ride.
It was an early model but very well maintained. “I think my HD is still young at a hundred thousand kilometres. I aim for another 100k on this one”, the rider explained as we chatted. I respected him as he spoke, being someone who chose his way, enjoyed getting good at it and looked well ahead, as we all should.
And then a group on naked bikes showed up. Machines and 20-year-old riders were all in black. We saluted, and they sat at the nearby table, just back from a ride and excited to comment. Their conversation was basically about who was going faster: they were describing a race, a game of daring,.
I could see their angle. I felt similarly arrogant at a young age. Being the man of the road seemed like a big deal, so big that I could shut down the alarms of my survival instinct. I was lucky to remain safe, while some got hurt and even died.
While considering, a lesson from the old days presented itself. It was the early 2000s when I heard a conference/lesson on motorcycle theory; it explained how different our attitudes were towards short or long rides, a ride to the cafe nearby versus a trip to Athens. We tend to take long trips seriously, get properly geared, plan ahead, be prepared and choose a proper pace.
However, short trips and familiar roads are the scenes of most accidents.
So, I reached out. We broke the ice with bike models and types, different worlds of cruisers, tourers and street fighters. Then I said I would suggest another kind of race to them. The kind that they could keep on for as long as they were fit to ride. “It is an endurance race. You can set the goal you wish, but I suggest the race last 500.000km or 50 years, which is reached first on the saddle. Aiming for such a finish line, you will technically be racing all your life, and you will need to get prepared, be disciplined and continuously get better.” Silence followed, which is always a good sign. Then we changed the subject.
My bike was now shiny, clean, and ready to go. As I was getting ready to leave, one of the boys stayed close and asked how my 21” front tyre behaved in corners. And just before leaving, he said, “An endurance race for a lifetime… I liked the idea”. That comment made me grin for the rest of the day.
Oscar Wilde said, “The best thing to do with good advice is to pass it on”. Learning and passing knowledge on may well be the point of life. Now, for parallel thinking: what about to extend the idea of “endurance race for a lifetime” to the goals that each of us targets: what about extending the time for reaching the goal or considering whether the goal we have in mind is enduring and worth (valid for) a long hard race?”