Passion vs. Obsession

A funny thing: 

If someone tried selling you a car that boasted an 80% crash fatality rate, a 28 fold increase in the likelihood you'll die per mile traveled, and a four hundred percent lift in the number of deaths per registered vehicle over other cars on the road, would you sue him buy it?

Probably not. It wouldn't be rational. So how on Earth are there more than 7 million of these cars registered in the U.S. right now? How are they even legally sold? Because we aren't talking about cars now, are we- with their fancy "crumple zones", elitist "air bags", and their snotty little "you can't tip me over by pushing with your hand" attitudes.

It begs the question: what kind of return outweighs that kind of risk?

To those of you who've never ridden a motorcycle; it's nigh impossible to explain. And to those who have; forgive me, I know I can't do this justice. But that doesn't stop me from trying:

Picture the most exciting car you've ever driven. Remember your eyes following the body lines, the feeling you got sitting in it, turning it on and beginning to drive. Maybe you were able to hold that excitement for a week, or a month, or even a little longer. But sooner or later the butterflies escape and you realize that you're in a car, probably very similar to every other car you've ever driven. Now I'm not for a moment suggesting that cars can't be appreciated, cherished, or even loved. But like the steady girlfriend, or husband of 20 years, predictability and dependability somehow take precedence over raw carnal desire. The bike on the other hand, never loses its sex appeal. And that makes all the difference in the world. From the novice rider (especially the novice rider) to the weathered veteran, from a trip to the corner store, to the farthest corners of the globe, if you throw a leg over the saddle and your heart isn't fluttering, you're already dead. My condolences.

These butterflies consistently overpower rationality. But, is motorcycling a passion, or an obsession? Passion connotes lust and desire. Check. And Obsession means the domination of thought and feeling. Check. So it's fair to say then, that I'm passionately obsessed with motorcycling.

Behold: MANDATORY MAN MOVIE NIGHT

Because I bought a T.V.

And then stole an xbox

And then found a cable

And then subscribed to Netflix

Here you are; balanced ever so precariously atop the delicate precipice of choice. To one side the jagged scarp of delusion and bitter failure, and to the other the subtle slopes of sweet success. You must choose now, or let time decide for you.

Ladies and Gentleman! It gives me great pleasure to introduce you, in no uncertain terms, to the first edition of the latest iteration of MANDATORY MAN MOVIE NIGHT! A night we celebrate films that men aught to have seen by now. A night we come together as brothers and sisters under the banner of motion picture excellence. A night we drink root beer together, IN SILENCE!

These movies do not now, nor will they ever, include mindless violence, advocate abject womanizing, or blunt our dignity in any way. These movies will, however, provoke thought, stimulate conversation, and prove our integrity as fans of film.

We will watch Ip Man, a film based loosely on a true story set against the backdrop of the Second Sino-Japanese war. Only a handful of martial arts films can match Ip Man for its beauty, creativity, and intensity.

December, 11th. Tell anyone, and bring your friends.

Prolly a bad idea

OK. So I've decided to become an amature automotive journalist, and if I'm honest, I'd love to be as awesome as Top Gear. And write like Kurt Vonnegut. And get paid like J.K. Rowling. And look like Brad Pitt. This is all well and good until I realize that I have no access to cars worth writing about, or access to cars in general. So how am I supposed to start writing about them if I'm limited to what I drive (econo-box), and what my friends drive ('bout the same)? Well, two things occurred to me: Firstly, EVERY car is worth writing about, since every car fits exactly the needs of someone, somewhere. Secondly, since I can't afford to lose a grand or so buying random, used cars from dealerships (then re-selling them a few days or weeks later), maybe I could get a dealer's license and buy straight from auction. That would be exciting, right? Possibly even worth writing about. And MAYBE I could even make a few bucks after I'm done with them. If all goes well, each successive car would be slightly more expensive than the last, and I would be exposed to a full spectrum of toys cars.

Cars Etc.

OWNING a car in Seattle isn't like owning a car in New York or L.A; our priorities are different. We proudly hand our Toyota keys to the Canlis valet, and at no point have any of us felt insecure stepping out of a Jag or BMW at Pacific Place. What works in Bell Town works on Beacon and in Bellevue. But what really sets us apart is the huge diversity of demanding terrain found in Seattle and around Western Washington. Within a few hours or so from the city you can visit four active volcanoes, two mountain ranges, an ocean, a desert, a rainforest, alpine meadows, vast coniferous forests, and the fabled scablands. Not to mention the legendarily steep hills downtown. While we aren't quite as steep as San Francisco, when was the last time they had snow? What impresses the L.A. auto-journalist won't necessarily be worth a can of Stumptown's finest to the savvy Seattleite.

So through the lens of the Pacific Northwest, what is the perfect car? Or rather, which car will get you there and back again a hobbit's tale in relative comfort, safety and maybe with a hint of style? I suppose I'll try to find out.