Utter incredulity. That's was the expression the nurse wore when I stomped into the clinic this morning with my gear on, carrying my helmet. Apparently, not many folks in Phoenix have the grit to ride to the doctor's office.
I've heard a bunch of stories about doctors giving motorcyclists long lectures about their choice of transportation, and was wondering if I'd get to experience a "murdercycle" lecture during one of my appointments.
During the last couple of weeks, I've actually been to a couple of different medical offices and, naturally, I rode to each appointment. At each, I half-expected an anti-motorcycling lecture, but apparently when I responded, "every day," to the question "So you ride a motorcycle?" they decided I was a lost cause.
Well, that's not strictly true. One of the nurses told me that "a lot of people" don't like bikers. I wanted to say, "Nuts to them," but she was holding a rather long needle at the time, so I decided it might be best if I were diplomatic.
Luckily, we quickly got back to the topic of my immediate health and away from the dangers of motorcycles. I've tried explaining to people that, statistically speaking, it's mainly old, drunk guys that don't ride often who get killed, but they never listen.
Anyway, the good news is that I survived the trips to the doctor unscathed, because it would be terribly ironic to have a nasty wreck on my way to or from a medical office...
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