Motorcycles Quotes

Quotes tagged as "motorcycles" Showing 1-30 of 42
T.M. Frazier
“We are all a little damaged, Bee. Some of us more than others.”
T.M. Frazier, The Dark Light of Day

Andrew X. Pham
“Nobody gives way to anybody. Everyone just angles, points, dives directly toward his destination, pretending it is an all-or-nothing gamble. People glare at one another and fight for maneuvering space. All parties are equally determined to get the right-of-way--insist on it. They swerve away at the last possible moment, giving scant inches to spare. The victor goes forwards, no time for a victory grin, already engaging in another contest of will. Saigon traffic is Vietnamese life, a continuous charade of posturing, bluffing, fast moves, tenacity and surrenders.”
Andrew X. Pham, Catfish and Mandala: A Two-Wheeled Voyage Through the Landscape and Memory of Vietnam

“They say life is a highway and we all travel our own roads, some good, some bad, yet each is a blessing of its own.”
Jess "Chief" Brynjulson

Robert M. Pirsig
“When cleaning I do it the way people go to church—not so much to discover anything new, although I'm alert for new things, but mainly to reacquaint myself with the familiar. It's nice to go over familiar paths.”
Robert M. Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry Into Values

Kelley Armstrong
“I should have a gun.”
“And you think I can provide it?”
“Ask your biker gang buddies.”
“They prefer the term ‘motorcycle club.’”
“I’m sure they do.”
Kelley Armstrong, Omens

Robert M. Pirsig
“It should be inserted here parenthetically that there's a school of mechanical thought which says I shouldn't be getting into a complex assembly I don't know anything about. I should have training or leave the job to a specialist. Thats a self-serving school of mechanical eliteness I'd like to see wiped out. [...] You're at a disadvantage the first time around it may cost you a little more because of parts you accidentally damage, and it will almost undoubtedly take a lot more time, but the next time around you're way ahead of the specialist. You, with gumption, have learned the assembly the hard way and you've a whole set of good feelings about it that he's unlikely to have.”
Robert M. Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry Into Values

Cassandra Clare
“They are pretty to look at," - Jace Wayland”
Cassandra Clare, City of Bones

Robert M. Pirsig
“Finally, if you're as exasperated as I am by the parts problem and have some money to invest, you can take up the really fascinating hobby of machining your own parts. [...] With the welding equipment you can build up worn surfaces with better than original metal and then machine it back to tolerance with carbide tools. [...] If you can't do the job directly you can always make something that will do it. The work of machining a part is very slow, and some parts, such as ball bearings, you're never going to machine, but you'd be amazed at how you can modify parts designs so that you can make them with your equipment, and the work isn't nearly a slow or frustrating as a wait for some smirking parts man to send away to the factory. And the work is gumption building, not gumption destroying. To run a cycle with parts in it you've made yourself gives you a special feeling you can't possibly get from strictly store-bought parts.”
Robert M. Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry Into Values

Robert M. Pirsig
“Can I have a motorcycle when I get old enough?"
"If you take care of it."
"What do you have to do?"
"Lot's of things. You've been watching me."
"Will you show me all of them?"
"Sure."
"Is it hard?"
"Not if you have the right attitudes. It's having the right attitudes that's hard."
"Oh."
After a while I see he is sitting down again. Then he says, "Dad?"
"What?"
"Will I have the right attitudes?"
"I think so," I say. "I don't think that will be any problem at all.”
Robert M. Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry Into Values

Foster Kinn
“The best bike is the one you're on,
The best road is the one you're traveling,
The best destination is wherever you're headed,
The best time to get there is whenever you arrive.”
Foster Kinn, Freedom's Rush II: More Tales from the Biker and the Beast

Foster Kinn
“When Freedoms Live, We Ride;
When We Ride, Freedoms Live.”
Foster Kinn, Freedom's Rush: Tales from The Biker and The Beast

Foster Kinn
“Mountains slowly change, but they will always be there, defining Freedom.”
Foster Kinn

Robert M. Pirsig
“Bill arrives with a grin about something. Sure, he's got some jets for my machine and knows right were they are. I'll have to wait a second though. He's got to close a deal out in back on some Harley parts. I go with him out in a shed in back and see he is selling a whole Harley machine in used parts, except for the frame, which the customer already has. He is selling them all for $125. Not a bad price at all.
Coming back I comment, "He'll know something about motorcycles before he gets those together."
Bill laughs. "And that's the best way to learn, too.”
Robert M. Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry Into Values

Robert M. Pirsig
“The title of this Chautauqua is "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance," not "Zen and the Art of Mountain Climbing," and there are no motorcycles on the tops of mountains, and in my opinion very little Zen. Zen is the "spirit of the valley," not the mountaintop. The only Zen you fin on the tops of mountains is the Zen you bring up there.”
Robert M. Pirsig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry Into Values

Hunter S. Thompson
“So it was always at night, like a werewolf, that I would take the thing out for an honest run down the coast. I would start in Golden Gate Park, thinking only to run a few long curves to clear my head. . . but in a matter of minutes I'd be out at the beach with the sound of the engine in my ears, the surf booming up on the sea wall and a fine empty road stretching all the way down to Santa Cruz. . . not even a gas station in the whole seventy miles; the only public light along the way is an all-​night diner down around Rockaway Beach.
There was no helmet on those nights, no speed limit, and no cooling it down on the curves. The momentary freedom of the park was like the one unlucky drink that shoves a wavering alcoholic off the wagon. I would come out of the park near the soccer field and pause for a moment at the stop sign, wondering if I knew anyone parked out there on the midnight humping strip.
Then into first gear, forgetting the cars and letting the beast wind out. . . thirty-​five, forty-​five. . . then into second and wailing through the light at Lincoln Way, not worried about green or red signals, but only some other werewolf loony who might be pulling out, too slowly, to start his own run. Not many of these. . . and with three lanes on a wide curve, a bike coming hard has plenty of room to get around almost anything. . . then into third, the boomer gear, pushing seventy-​five and the beginning of a windscream in the ears, a pressure on the eyeballs like diving into water off a high board.
Bent forward, far back on the seat, and a rigid grip on the handlebars as the bike starts jumping and wavering in the wind. Taillights far up ahead coming closer, faster, and suddenly -- zaaapppp -- going past and leaning down for a curve near the zoo, where the road swings out to sea.
The dunes are flatter here, and on windy days sand blows across the highway, piling up in thick drifts as deadly as any oil-​slick. . . instant loss of control, a crashing, cartwheeling slide and maybe one of those two-​inch notices in the paper the next day: “An unidentified motorcyclist was killed last night when he failed to negotiate a turn on Highway I.”
Indeed. . . but no sand this time, so the lever goes up into fourth, and now there's no sound except wind. Screw it all the way over, reach through the handlebars to raise the headlight beam, the needle leans down on a hundred, and wind-​burned eyeballs strain to see down the centerline, trying to provide a margin for the reflexes.
But with the throttle screwed on there is only the barest margin, and no room at all for mistakes. It has to be done right. . . and that's when the strange music starts, when you stretch your luck so far that fear becomes exhilaration and vibrates along your arms. You can barely see at a hundred; the tears blow back so fast that they vaporize before they get to your ears. The only sounds are wind and a dull roar floating back from the mufflers. You watch the white line and try to lean with it. . . howling through a turn to the right, then to the left and down the long hill to Pacifica. . . letting off now, watching for cops, but only until the next dark stretch and another few seconds on the edge. . . The Edge. . . There is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over. The others -- the living -- are those who pushed their control as far as they felt they could handle it, and then pulled back, or slowed down, or did whatever they had to when it came time to choose between Now and Later.
But the edge is still Out there. Or maybe it's In. The association of motorcycles with LSD is no accident of publicity. They are both a means to an end, to the place of definitions.”
Hunter S. Thompson, Hell's Angels

Dano Janowski
“The fact that I'm a biker doesn't make me a different kinda Christian, but the fact that I'm a Christian makes me a different kinda biker.”
Dano Janowski, In the Wind with Biker George

Foster Kinn
“When Freedoms exist, we ride;
When we ride, Freedoms exist.”
Foster Kinn

Guy Martin
“If you're going to go out, go out in a blaze of glory.”
Guy Martin, Guy Martin: My Autobiography

Foster Kinn
“If you know where you’re going, you can get there;
if you don’t know where you’re going, you can get everywhere.”
Foster Kinn, Freedom's Rush II: More Tales from the Biker and the Beast

Foster Kinn
“In the still and gloaming air, utter silence all around, I find a different kind of peace.”
Foster Kinn, Freedom's Rush: Tales from The Biker and The Beast

Debi Tolbert Duggar
“I was 1,600.7 miles from home and alone on my motorcycle. I felt a freedom on Bessie I had not felt before. I had shed 185 pounds of dead weight, and I was finally riding soul-o. I was at peace.”
Debi Tolbert Duggar, Riding Soul-O

Debi Tolbert Duggar
“Several shades of hazy blue hung over the landscape like a heavy tapestry, giving the Blue Ridge Mountains its name. I stopped at one of the scenic overlooks, switched off the bike, and sat in the absolute stillness of the mountains. Their silence was a soothing balm for my soul. The maternal rhythm of nature is a tonic that heals emotionally. I just wanted to sit still, breathe deeply, and match my heartbeat to that rhythm.”
Debi Tolbert Duggar, Riding Soul-O

Debi Tolbert Duggar
“Furthermore, my soul was sick, and heart shattered, seemingly beyond repair. I needed consolation.
I sought redemption in the wind. I knew that on Bessie I could navigate around the soul sickness, find solace in the journey, and steer in the opposite direction of all the hefty feelings bearing down on me.”
Debi Tolbert Duggar, Riding Soul-O

Debi Tolbert Duggar
“C. Dick helped me discover that I was no longer interested in redefining myself just to please a man, and I found out I could end a relationship simply because it wasn't meeting my needs.”
Debi Tolbert Duggar, Riding Soul-O

Debi Tolbert Duggar
“Then I pivoted, turned, climbed astride Bessie and rod off into the sunset, soul-o.”
Debi Tolbert Duggar, Riding Soul-O

Foster Kinn
“He was an outsider chasing the unknown.”
Foster Kinn, The Poet, The Professor, and The Redneck: How Men Die, How They Live

Foster Kinn
“And he rode faster and faster still so that at last he looked through the eyes of angels and his mind was cleansed of all earthly effects and he reached that higher realm of light in which all things are holy and pure.”
Foster Kinn, The Poet, The Professor, and the Redneck: How Men Die, How They Live

Foster Kinn
“The shadows lengthened and they were like newly grown hands of the Dark Companion that grasped at his boots and jeans and vest and hair, and he rode through them and over them, and still they grew and grasped until the shadows consumed the sun as a substitute for his soul.”
Foster Kinn, The Poet, The Professor, and The Redneck: How Men Die, How They Live

Foster Kinn
“After saying goodbye to Cassie, Wyatt was alone, an everywhere stranger, his emotions disconnected like old kitchen items strewn around a dump. Loneliness was his only companion. But the loneliness itself was something he simply observed rather than felt so it didn’t bother him, but he did gradually come to worry about the fact that it didn’t. He wondered if he was dying. Maybe. It didn’t seem so, but still, maybe he was. Maybe he was already dead. That thought occurred to him, too.”
Foster Kinn, The Poet, The Professor, and the Redneck: How Men Die, How They Live

“WHERE THE STREET, MEETS YOUR FEET”
Vanguard Boots

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