Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming "Wow! What a Ride!
A woman who rides a motorcycle is in tune with the universe, a candidate for high adventure.
You do not need a therapist if you own a motorcycle, any kind of motorcycle!
The most important thing is to have a good relationship with the bike... you have to understand what she wants. I think of a motorcycle as a woman, and I know that sounds silly, but it's true.
Never travel faster than your guardian angel can fly.
The man hunched over his motorcycle can focus only on the present... he is caught in a fragment of time cut off from both the past and the future... he has no fear, because the source of fear is in the future, and a person freed of the future has nothing to fear.
A jerk on a motorcycle is equal to a leaf, because I find it beautiful when these things fall.
Only a biker knows why a dog sticks his head out of a car window.
Faster, Faster, until the thrill of speed overcomes the fear of death.
That's all the motorcycle is, a system of concepts worked out in steel.
You live more in five minutes on a bike like this going flat out than some people live in a lifetime.
A mother is neither cocky, nor proud, because she knows the school principal may call at any minute to report that her child had just driven a motorcycle through the gymnasium.
Joining a band of brothers together, a group with one common interest or mission, whether as a company, a team, or a motorcycle club, requires not only a commitment to loyalty but an understanding of self-preservati on as well.
I drive way too fast to worry about cholesterol.
It's not my fault all women like motorcycles, Murph. They're basically huge vibrators. With wheels.
A zest for living must include a willingness to die.
I'm a decent sprinter and I can gun a motorcycle from zero to suicidal in less than ten seconds.
Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well-preserved body.
I look my best when I take my helmet off after a long motorcycle ride. I have a glow and a bit of helmet hair.
On my tombstone they will carve, "IT NEVER GOT FAST ENOUGH FOR ME.
Riding a motorcycle on today's highways, you have to ride in a very defensive manner. You have to be a good rider and you have to have both hands and both feet on the controls at all times.
A motorcycle is an independent thing.
I was lucky I survived the motorcycle accident because I - bike went under the car. I flew out about 20 or 25 feet. I didn't have a helmet on. I hit my head on the pavement and knocked myself out, gave myself a brain concussion, screwed up my left leg. And I was - I was lucky then that I didn't get killed because I didn't have any protective clothing on whatsoever. And I took a pretty good beating. But, yeah, such was the nature of the day when the barber was called and Samson's locks were trimmed.
I don't want a pickle, I just want ride on my motorcikle. I don't want to die, I just want a ride on my motorcy........cle.
I am out of practice at living. You are as brave as a motorcycle.
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