I will never forgive them for making us wear helmets. Ever. Damn them for doing it, and damn us for letting them do it to us.

In one fell swoop, that now ancient, but still diabolical legislation, ripped out one of motorcycling’s most wondrous aspects and made motorcycling a lesser thing.

It happened a long time ago. I know.

And no. I’m not over it.

I’m not over it because I know what I am missing out on.

If you’re now hotly pissing into your colostomy bag with outrage, then you don’t. So, either go and find out what it’s like so your opinion is informed, or jam your puerile outrage up your blurter where it can keep the rest of your anal motorcycle-safety proclivities company.

I spent almost a decade deciding when I would wear a helmet and when I would not wear a helmet. So I know perfectly well what a life-affirming, soul-enriching, and joy-inducing exercise not wearing a helmet is.

I also still do it, as often as I can, in places where the Highway Patrol is unlikely to run me down with one of its new German luxury vehicles.

Why do I do it?

Why do people do drugs? Why do people gamble? Why do people drink? Climb mountains? Parachute off buildings? Why does anyone do anything?

Because it’s fun and they enjoy doing it.

And the more dangerous it is, the more enjoyment there is in doing it.

Cheating death is the ultimate rush. Nothing ever beats it. Nothing ever can.

I know a lot of you moth-eaten, piss-smelling, safety-first cretins would rather eat your own lungs than presume to ride your motorcycle without a helmet.

And that’s fine. Off you go. Go and be the cancer at the very heart of motorcycling. You wretched, mewling cur who grovels at the Altar of Safety.

You are the very reason why motorcycling is becoming a shadow of its former self, and is dying the death of a thousand cuts.

You have permitted our rulers their victory.

They have finally and irrevocably convinced almost all of us, and certainly the younger people, that Safety is the guiding facet of life in Australia. Safety is the ultimate god. Safety is the Alpha and the Omega. You are to be made safe from yourself and everything around you at any cost.

Your civil liberties be damned. Your personal choices be double-damned.

You will comply. And you will be safe though the heavens fall, the seas boil, and the stars are extinguished.

Our rulers have been at us now with this Safety bullshit for decades. They have repeated the same message over and over, and they have enacted insane laws and draconian penalties to back up their agitprop. The media has eagerly backed this up by running headline news stories about people speeding, traffic accidents, and interviews with traumatised victims – as if this is somehow news and not bald-faced, clumsy-arsed, cheese-shitting propaganda.

As a result, we now live, for all intents and purposes, in a police state. Our police are everywhere all the time – at every large social event, concert, bar, nightclub, or festival – in force and ostensibly for our own safety. They even have the gall to charge organisers of events for this policing as if they were armed mercenaries and soldiers of fortune, rather than simple employees of the state doing their bloody jobs.

They are everywhere on main roads, both overtly and covertly, blatantly raising billions for the state while mouthing the endless safety mantra over and over. It’s worked so well, a large percentage of Australians actually support and encourage them in this massive, cynical, and naked cash-grab. They even admit they work to a quota system now.

They don’t care if we know this. It’s not like we can do anything about it, is there?

Because anything and everything can and is justified in the name of public safety.

And if you’re shaking your head in disbelief that I would advocate such a thing as being able to make a personal choice about wearing a helmet, then you are the prime tumour. All the rest is just metastases.

What’s that? Why would you have to pay for my medical expenses if it goes wrong?

For the same reason I have to pay for you folding those Big Macs into your greedy maw while you grow a belly to sustain your heart disease and diabetes.

Who do you reckon is going to cost the state more over a longer period of time, sugar-bear? You and your piss-drinking, take-away-eating, sugar addiction, or me and my brain damage?

Look, at the end of the day you and your ilk has won. So calm your engines. I’m just yelling at clouds. You’ve got the nanny state you’ve always wanted. We all have to wear the helmets. We have no choice. It’s for own good, just like you’ve always wanted it to be, you piece of soulless rubbish.

Except when the State not looking.

And there are still places where it’s not looking.


By Boris Mihailovic

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