Nothing triggers me more than motorcyclists. We moved from a big city in Germany to the countryside a couple years ago and I totally underestimated the amount of noise you guys make. On every nice weekend, fat people in their mid-fifties dressed like sausages rattle along the country roads and wave at each other in a cool manner. Saturdays are annoying, Sundays seriously unbearable. We can’t have a conversation in the garden, even deep in the forest, the engines roar. They hang around on the benches, bus stops and at the petrol station, smoking and talking on their phones. Ambulances once or twice a day, rescue helicopters every other week. One time friends came to visit and greeted me with: “There was a motorcyclist lying on the crossroads”. At the start of the season, two motorcyclists collided on a bend close to my home and both died. Casual! It was pretty quiet while the paramedics tried to save both of the fathers lifes.
Riding a motorcycle is such an affable, reckless and mean-spirited pastime, it drives me insane. If I sell this house again, it will be because of you. I pray for a ban on driving on Sundays and public holidays and noise controls. Buy a racing bike, really!