Motorcycles: The Coolest Thing on Two Wheels (And Possibly in the Universe)

Let’s cut through the nonsense and acknowledge a universal truth: motorcycles are cool. Not just “kind of cool” like air fryers or artisanal sourdough, but capital-C Cool — the kind that wears sunglasses indoors and doesn’t text back. If motorcycles were a person, they’d be the one at a party leaning against the wall in a leather jacket, not talking to anyone, and somehow still stealing all the attention.

This article is both a love letter and a completely biased, mildly irresponsible argument in favor of motorcycles being the coolest thing humanity has ever created. Yes, even cooler than space travel. Why? Because motorcycles feel like space travel — just with more bugs hitting your teeth.

A motorcycle doesn’t need to say anything to make a statement. It arrives with the thunderous sound of 600ccs of pure attitude, wearing chrome and matte black like they were blessed by the fashion gods. Park one next to a car — any car — and it instantly becomes clear that the car is just a large metal disappointment with cupholders. The rider? Always effortlessly cool. Whether they’re a battle-hardened road warrior or a barista with a vintage helmet and a Vespa, they all exude an air of “I’ve seen some stuff, man” — even if the only thing they’ve seen is a YouTube tutorial on how to check oil.

When you start a motorcycle, it growls. Not hums, not purrs — growls. It shudders with barely restrained power, like it’s holding back from launching into orbit. Every twist of the throttle is a conversation between you and the machine. Cars feel like appliances. Motorcycles feel like sentient beasts that chose you as their rider. Also, if motorcycles weren’t alive, why would they insist on trying to buck you off like a mechanical rodeo bull the moment you sneeze while turning?

Imagine flying at 60 mph with no cockpit, no windows, just you, the wind, and the road. That’s what riding a motorcycle feels like — a slightly unhinged version of aviation where your legs are dangerously close to asphalt and your dignity is one sharp turn away from being left behind. And yet… it’s glorious. You lean into turns like you’re dancing with gravity. You glide down roads like you own them (which, emotionally speaking, you do). On a good ride, your problems shrink in the rearview mirror while your smile grows under your helmet. People say “four wheels move the body, two wheels move the soul,” and while that’s a bit dramatic, it’s also 100% true and should be printed on every legal document.

There’s no passive riding with a motorcycle. You’re not a passenger in your own vehicle, you are the vehicle. You shift gears like a pianist playing a concerto. You counter-steer, you lean, you feel every bump, every twist, every blessed pothole the city forgot to fix. When you’re on a motorcycle, your body is part of the machine. You are Man-Machine. Cyborg-lite. A Transformer without the need for a reboot. You don’t just get from point A to B — you experience every inch of the journey with your whole being.

The motorcycle community is one of the most supportive, weird, tight-knit subcultures out there. Total strangers will nod at you on the road like you’ve just returned from war. Break down on the side of the road? Some guy on a Harley who looks like he wrestles bears for breakfast will pull over to help you like he’s your long-lost uncle. And the forums. Oh, the forums. Want to know how to install an LED light that turns green when you hit 88 mph? There’s a 12-page thread about it. Want to argue about oil brands like your life depends on it? Welcome to the jungle.

Are motorcycles practical? Kind of. They get great gas mileage, can navigate through traffic like a caffeinated squirrel, and make parking in a city slightly less of a hellish nightmare. But let’s be real: you don’t get a motorcycle because it’s practical. You get one because every time you see a mirror, you want to be the kind of person who rides a motorcycle. Sure, your hair gets destroyed, your back might hate you, and you occasionally have to explain to non-riders why you willingly put your body within inches of 70-mph traffic. But none of that matters.

Because motorcycles aren’t about convenience. They’re about freedom. The kind that comes with a rumble in your chest and bugs in your teeth.

The truth is, motorcycles are more than just machines. They’re a lifestyle, a personality trait, a wearable rebellion. They’re for people who want more out of life than just existing. They’re for the romantics, the adventurers, the mildly unhinged optimists who think that two wheels and an engine can take them anywhere — and they’re right.

So whether you’re a lifelong rider, a weekend warrior, or just motorcycle-curious, remember this: you’re only one helmet away from being the coolest version of yourself.

And if you crash? Crash cool. Crash loud. Crash with honor. Because no matter what — you were riding a motorcycle.