Risk Is Part Of Life

I’ve always wanted a motorcycle. When I was 10, I told my parents I wanted a mini-bike. I would get a job, clean the house, sell a kidney, anything to be able to have that wild, monstrous, 5-horse riding machine! I presented all sorts of good reasons why I should have one: Mom wouldn’t have to drive which would save the family gas money. I could bike into town to get that loaf of bread. Besides, all my friends had mini-bikes. Well, not all, but Dana Follis had one. Why couldn’t I have a mini-bike?

The answer was similar to what Ralphie’s mom told him in the movie, A Christmas Story: “You’ll shoot your eye out!” In this case, it was “you’ll get run over!” The potential for injury or death was too high, I could end up in a wheelchair! Of course, the kicker argument was always, “We love you too much to risk your life.” Hard to argue against the “we love you too much” ploy.

Seems like everyone in high school rode motorcycles. By this time, the parental line became: “Wait a couple of years and you’ll have your driver’s license. Cars are much safer than motorcycles.” Yeah, driving the family’s Pontiac station wagon did so much to raise my coolness factor!

I still want a motorcycle. I could get one, I am my own man now. But risk aversion was imprinted on my brain by the time I reached adulthood. And my family still doesn’t want me riding one. They guilt me into behaving safely. Evidently, I’m still worth more alive than what they would collect from my life insurance policy. There was also the uncomfortable insinuation thrown out that being in your 60s was a little old to be learning how to ride cycles. What a Catch-22! I would know how to ride a motorcycle if I had that minibike as a kid! Sheesh, family can be so illogical.

Risk is everywhere, though. You don’t need a motorcycle to be exposed to it. People get shot at concerts and shopping malls. Brain-eating amoebas can crawl up your nose as you swim in the lake on a hot summer day. Take a “selfie” at the Grand Canyon, lean over a little too far, and you are in the obituaries; albeit with a nice pic of yourself falling into the Grand Canyon.

I obtained the death certificates of many relatives in the course of my genealogy studies. The diverse nature of how my kin entered into eternity is amazing. One fell off a cliff but he wasn’t taking a selfie, it was just too dark. Another took a walk on the train tracks and apparently didn’t notice the train. It was prior to wearing ear buds to listen to music so not sure how that happened. Some drowned, some died piloting planes. Scratch my long-time wish of learning to fly off the list! Heart disease, cancer, senility, cirrhosis, murder, war, suicide, are all there, too. But most of my relatives died from what is known as “natural causes.” Seems the “causes of nature” are just as risky as riding a motorcycle or walking on the wing of a plane. Now, I’m not advocating that we all throw caution to the wind and start skateboarding on the interstate. But, what’s the difference between dying in front of the TV from clogged arteries and running your Harley into a tree? The end result is the same, but one reads better in print.

Risk is a part of life. We can spend our lives wisely trying to minimize risk and premature death, but we may miss out on something fantastic. Yes, risk may bring death, but what if surviving brings something else? This may explain why people climb mountains in the Himalayas, walk a tight-rope without a net, or dive off a cliff into the sea. Certainly they have no death wish. They just want to get as close to the edge of life without falling off. Maybe it’s the euphoria of being so close to losing it all, surviving, and gaining a new appreciation of life. Perhaps that is why it is said of those who perished in risky ventures: “He died doing what he loved.”

Wish I had used that argument on my parents. Maybe I would have had that minibike. Then again, if I had one, I may not have lived to ponder about risk. I do have my comfortable recliner, an ultra high-definition TV, and a good supply of ice cream. That’s enough risk for me.