Rage against One Machine by Way of Another


Life in middle management has been an oft-times bitter pill to swallow. Increased responsibility, longer hours, and dealing with more headaches--all while not getting a raise in salary ("lateral move," they said)--all contribute to a serious sense of unease, bordering on despair. Suffice't to say that the past year has been more stressful than I have had to deal with in over a decade, and it has left me feeling increasingly unhappy, angst-ridden, outraged, and just plain demoralized.
Lately, and on an increasingly more emphatic scale, I have been looking towards my one and only real outlet for my frustrations: riding my motorcycle. I've ridden more than in years, I have formed an ad hock group of riders/motovloggers for a yearly meetup, I've bought a new motorcycle, and I've wrapped the "biker lifestyle" around myself like a blanket to defend me from the cold.
After the bike purchase, I got myself a new jacket, new boots, a Harley biker wallet, complete with chain, and I even recently got a skull ring. In a way, I suppose it is my meek way of "rebelling" as much as I can, which is not really at all. Maybe by adopting this fantasy ideal, I can distract myself from the reality that threatens to remove me from any sense of surety, supplanting it with bitter outrage. I don't really care to ponder the reasons for or merits of my recent choice of outlet, as long as I can continue to avoid the despondency of total surrender I faced in 2005 at the hands of that stupid god-damned PhD. If dressing like a biker and riding as much as a middle manager can help me to keep from losing my spirit, then I see no harm in it--beyond the obvious: death or serious injury caused by riding a motorcycle.
Recently, after some particularly trying times at the office, I have turned even more towards my outlet and its darker aspects. Whereas 9 months ago when I sought comfort and quiet from my new bike, now I am filled anew with the overwhelming urge to turn my motorcycle into a loud and ground-pounding BEAST. If I go through with this, I might be rolling into work next week atop a bike that has a 120 cubic inch engine that makes 135 foot-pounds of torque and 149 horsepower. The exhaust will be a two-into-one system from D and D, which will make it louder than any bike I've owned since my 2003 Softail Standard, which, similarly, was purchased at a time when I was feeling particularly in need of an outlet.
As I type this, I obsess over the very thought of such a beast bike and what it will mean for my life. It is the new toy I lust for and think about constantly. I just hope it will be enough, or at the very least, it won't be too much.

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