Riding a motorcycle in a suit is a ridiculous thing to do. Suits are expensive. They’re difficult to clean. They offer almost no protection, and they’re not particularly comfortable. It’s irrational – dangerous even. Given a choice, no sensible person would choose to exchange leather and Kevlar for tweed.
On May 19, over 111,000 riders in 958 cities did exactly that at the Distinguished Gentleman’s Ride. I was one of them.
The Distinguished Gentleman’s Ride is something of an irony. The Ride is a global motorcycle event raising funds and awareness for prostate cancer research and men’s mental health programs on behalf of the Movember foundation. It does this by getting those of us who disappointed their parents by spending their hard-earned money on a motorcycle to dress up like Don Draper and ride in a wide loop around the city like a roaring army of morons. The research is no doubt worthwhile (though I’m not personally thrilled by the sole emphasis on men’s issues) but it’s a little nuts that an initiative whose partial purpose is to promote “mental health” encourages something this vaingloriously pointless.
Or is it? After all, careful plating makes your food taste no better. The art on your walls makes them no stronger. The song you sing to yourself in the shower makes you no cleaner, and the dog that zooms in circles whenever he’s happy to see you probably won’t protect your home. They’re not fun because you need them. They’re fun because they’re fun. You don’t need a motorcycle to get around, and you don’t need to look like Steve McQueen to ride one. It’s foolish. But it is through foolishness, not necessity, that happiness creeps into your life. There were over 500 riders in New York City that day and every single one of them was smiling.
Coming to a bottleneck when we exited the Brooklyn Bridge, a man on the street asked what we were doing. When we told him, he yelled, “Man, I SHOULD BE THERE TOO!!” I liked it…looks like next year, we’ll have 111,001.