‘Why have male menopause sports cars been replaced by motorbikes?’

Why has the proverbial, male menopause red sports car been replaced by the uncomfortably dangerous, ‘it’ll-sure-as-shootin’-kill-ya’ motorbike?

I recently read an article in The Guardian about the wave of 50-something bikers out there. It said that the number of motorbike riders over the age of 50 accounts for somewhere around 30 per cent of all spending on bikes. A United Kingdom insurance company specialising in the over-50s noted a 10 per cent increase in motorbikes and an increase in the number of over-50s looking for motorbike insurance for their Ducati, Triumph or Harley Davidson in the last 12 months.

I’m going to, rightly or wrongly, assume (yeah, I know, ass, u, me etc.) we’re all on the same page regarding male menopause. “The male version of menopause is known as Andropause, when testosterone levels take a dive.” I know because Wikipedia told me so. It’s real, it exists, it is difficult and invasive. Not only can it be expensive but, alarmingly, it can be the source of vow-renewals you never knew you needed. It’d be nice if he stayed out of intensive care, right?

We girls put on weight, lose self-confidence, sweat profusely, have a makeover and/or move the furniture about. Yet research shows men buy things, mostly ‘big ticket’ items. Some only go as far as purchasing that really big television or building the Man Cave of their dreams, or installing a swimming pool at the house. Others buy motorbikes!

Back in the day, a red sports car (even second-hand) would invariable do the trick. However, recent studies reveal a worrying trend. Old boys are buying new motorbikes; big motorbikes; fast motorbikes; hard-to-handle motorbikes.

The trouble is some over 50 year olds can’t seem to separate from the younger 25-year-old inner-self and lack the ability to acknowledge a deterioration of strength, ability and reaction time. For this reason (and stay with me if you can) I’m here to suggest motorbike riding lessons for seniors! I’ll wait while you catch your breath…

I’ll wait for the outrage to subside. Breathe gents, breathe.

A motorcycle training centre in Melbourne promotes that, “Motorcycle lessons are the perfect primer for beginners as well as those who haven’t been in the saddle for a while.” Perhaps a refresher course is all that’s required.

Is a bike phallically easier to replicate? Or do y’all have a death wish after you retire? You are mortal no matter what your internal Superman or Danny Zuko says.

Holy kryptonite, you are not George Reeves (if you’ve never heard of him, go away) and that cracking, splendidly charged beast between your legs is not the result of last night’s Viagra; it’s a motorbike. It’s a faster-than-a-speeding bullet, big-ass, killing machine if not handled with care. Please, before you morph from your civvies into your very expensive, surprisingly pleasantly sensational to the touch-fest, bottom-hugging, shoulder-enhancing, waist-slimming leathers, please listen up. Slow down, okay!

Take. Your. Time. Big boy!

Discussing the ‘issue’ as a whole after you take off those huge, stupidly manly, babe-I’ll-kick-anyone-who-tries-to-hurt-you boots, there is one line of comparison reasoning I will agree with completely. In the Lycra versus leathers altercation I am so pro-leathers and anti-Lycra it’s… Wait, sorry, what was I saying?

Arguably, for example, let’s consider a complete role reversal situation. He innocently asks, as he gets ready for a Sunday arvo bike ride with the fellas, “Honey, does my bum look big in this?” She breathlessly enthuses, “Yeah baby, it looks big and round, grope-worthy and… ” **Censored**

An hour later, “Sorry I’m so late guys.” A pandemic of knowing smirks bounces from each member in turn, smug in the knowledge none of them need to quietly ask the doc for the ‘blue pill’ script anymore. If that’s your quid pro quo, you’ll get no argument here. I am confident the Lycra-clad boys have no idea what I’m on about, nor care. If they cared, they wouldn’t be prancing about in Lycra. Would they?

Lycra vs leathers aside, the non-motorised bike brigade have had their 15 minutes of fame.

Please, no predictable ad hominem responses, and, if just one of you says that you bought the bike because ‘she’ likes something big and throbbing between her legs, I will find out where you live, come visit you and bitch-slap you into the 21st century. Are we clear?

Perhaps ‘she’ could learn the technical specs including speed, gas or fuel consumption, carbon dioxide emissions, dimensions, ratio, top speed, 0-60, while learning the difference between a Husaberg FE 550 e, a Kymco Zing 125, a Polini 911 GP5 Reverse 50, a Kawasaki Vulcan 1700 Voyager and a BMW K1200S.

Or, maybe ‘she’ could take a refreshing look at this newly black leather-clad, one-owner male and graciously accept he wants your not-so-perfect, aching-back, I-knew-you-when, rock-a-billy soul sister, been-thru-hell-together body on the back of his male menopause.

It would appear I’ve answered my own question… You don’t need ‘leathers’ to drive a red sports car!

Do you own a motorbike? What’s your ride?

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