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[ST] Let Freedom Rev
- Subject: [ST] Let Freedom Rev
- From: "John Petrey, Jr." <john@xxxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- Date: Fri, 21 Dec 2001 15:38:34 -0800
Humorous clip from..? Umm. Not sure. Mabey The Onion
Last night, sometime around 2 a.m., I was ripped from a peaceful slumber by
a shockingly loud noise from the street outside. Alternating between a
shrill, piercing whine and a thunderous roar, the sound echoed down the
block, rattling my bedroom windows with oceanic waves of
internal-combustion fury. As I lay there, unable to fall back asleep, my
head and pulse pounding, I could think only one thing:
Wow, check out that motorcycle revving!
What is it that makes a revving motorcycle so welcome? Why is this
exhaust-choked noise instantly embraced and enjoyed by all who hear it? And
what is it about the deafening roar made by the motorcyclist he of the
unmuffled exhaust pipes that makes him beloved above all others? These are
just a few of the questions I pondered during the hours immediately
following that motorcycle's early-morning revving.
Inevitably, the answer to each question was always the same: The mere act
of sitting astride a stationary motorcycle and manipulating the throttle
for the express purpose of creating vast amounts of ear-splitting noise is
the most impressive display of power known to man.
Yelling out of cars, turning your speakers out the window to blast your
music onto the street, setting off M-80 firecrackers, firing automatic
weapons into the air these are all well and good. But none of them create a
merry atmosphere of insouciance and bonhomie quite like a revving motorcycle.
When a man mounts a motorcycle and, instead of merely riding it like a
common mortal, chooses to regale everyone within a five-mile radius with
the sound of four or five thousand internal-combustion explosions a minute,
he is saying something. He is announcing to the world (or at least half the
city): "We are all human beings, unique unto the world, and as a human, I
will not be bound by the will of the masses. I am a soaring spirit,
incapable of being chained, and, by way of evidence, I will provide this
threshold-of-pain sonic explosion."
And it works! Last night, up and down my block, people were jolted awake
with undeniable proof of that motorcyclist's humanity. The act was deeply
moving to each and every one of us ex-sleepers. I'm sure I'm not the only
one who found it difficult to go back to bed for a long time, so affected
was I by this stirring, transcendent expression of individuality.
That is what I admire most about such motorcyclists: their courage to
assert their uniqueness in the most audible, public way possible.
It is such determination to make our individuality heard that sets us apart
from the animals. So hallelujah, I say, and let freedom rev.
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