I grew up free range. It’s considered radical these days to allow such a thing to happen.
Some parents have been arrested for allowing their kids a tiny taste of my childhood, unremarkable as it was – then.
How will kids grow up and take flight if we insist they never leave their cocoons?
What are doing to them, to manage our own parental anxieties?
How do we expect them to learn how to be human without practice?
It’s motorcycle season up here in Western New York, the season of paradise finally having returned to us: six months of weather-driven ecstasy that would make a poppy field jealous. Men and women (mostly men) who are rediscovering freedom mount up on hogs to ride away from fetters upon the low rumble of open internal combustion. Commemorating the rising spring sun of motorbiking, women set out the yellow “Look” signs in their front yards, weeping and ululating as women of yore did when the warriors set off in the spring, looking for war.
I think they should take them down. You cannot serve two masters: you must either love danger and hate safety or hate danger. To lay a wreath of guilt upon ordinary automobile motorists is unconscionable.
- Motorcyclists are, by nature, risk-takers. They would not be riding motorcycles otherwise. Actuarial tables do not lie.
- A motorcycle is much smaller…
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