Extreme has gone too far, to the extreme banality.
We live in a society of alienation where we sell our time to pay for what we do not need, discard what we cannot consume, desire what we cannot get, and ignore our real needs and the needs of our neighbours.
Entertainment remedies these alienations via median means (in front of a screen) or emotional “circus” participation. Hence, the growth of extreme sports, among them motorcycling.
Night at TV: watching a movie/documentary on the Kon Tiki expedition (Oscar nomination 2013) and surprised to see the members of the expeditions saluting the loved ones and the spectators at the departure of the great adventure wearing jacket, shirt and ties.
Then I remembered Sir Edmund Hillary going to be the first man on Mount Everest in tweed, wool and Knickerbockers.
Then I looked at old videos of the riders of the Six Days Trial attacking rough terrain in tweed and wellies. And I considered the new great passion that today’s viewers have for extreme: extreme air, extreme surf, extreme ski, extreme …
“Extreme videos” fill up my mailbox, gifts from friends showing great riders, great athletes and people of great courage bringing bikes in places where bikes should not be: and by this, I do not mean your garage; I mean on top of the Arc de Triomphe, flying and back flipping on top of old Dakota planes, wheeling on the descent from Annapurna, passing at 120 mph from the open roof of a Fiat 500 to the flat bed of a Man truck and similar enjoyable feasts.
Our thirst for EXTREME is insatiable as insatiable is our shopping for technical (extreme) equipment capable of transforming our bourgeois look in tough and brave professionals: from the common (but relatively new) use of running shoes for non-runners, tree logging booths for non-tree loggers, polar suits for non-polar explorers, race sliders for non-track racers… neck brace anyone?
A gift from relatives: a SPIDI Jacket (probably called Machu Pichu or Sahara or Kalahari) composed of three, separately wearable but fully linkable, items with front /back /shoulders /elbows protections, three level of ventilation, space for HydroPack, connection to.. It took me realistically one hour to understand how to assemble it: an Ikea experience for bikers…
Take me right, please.
I am not suggesting going riding on a shirt and flip-flop: just take a look, please, at a new jacket or at a new pair of shoes and list the number of acronyms, brand and sub-brand logos, technical symbols, visual specs, etc. We are walking on an advertising billboard proudly showing that our shoes are waterproof, suspended in 3D gel and memory foam, created in a Relaxed Fit for Advanced traction and support system (ATSS)
The producing companies should pay for having me going around with all that advertising, and God will definitely continue to bless Mr. Goldfine for producing advanced protective gear that is still simple and not over-branded. My Aerostich is like I would my life to be: effective, simple, improving over time without too much fuss, easy and worthwhile.
Or, if you are not with me, think of the word “Adventure” now printed, embossed, chromed and stencilled on many motorcycles that will never see any more adventurous time than motorways cruising or bar hopping—inflated branding as “Four Wheel Drive” on the back of a plethora of dull boxes.
“People who do not enjoy the present invent a fake past”, said the prophet, and adventurous machines or adventure gear is a good, expensive, but accessible way to do it.
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Why this passion, obsession for extreme?
Before proceeding, I need to clarify: the performers of extreme sports or events are, with no doubt, great athletes with great dedication and with hours and hours of training.
They risk limbs (always) and life (sometimes) to give us awe-inspiring shows: no one alligator is safe or can rest in peace when our heroes are out to show how to exchange body fluids with them, no wave is too big, no ramp too steep, no summersault too daring.
I am not discussing the values of showmanship; I am simply observing that in many aspects of our lives, EXTREME is becoming the norm, and by doing so, it verges on the side of bland boredom.
From movies where the stunts become more and more absurd, the litres of blood addictive, the number of bullets incalculable, the height of jumps impossible, to personal beliefs where fanaticism, absolutism and uncompromising rejection of other opinions are now marks of intelligent dedication to ideals; to rest and holidays were “extreme” activities are replacing reading, conversation and artistic pursuits.
We are turning into adrenaline freaks, depending, day and night, on a regular dose of extreme. A daily fix may be needed, but it all depends on how adrenalin is delivered. We need adrenaline fixes; we want to take them orally or, more precisely, visually and auricularly.
We love a Disney nature where bees do not sting but simply sing, mosquitoes and ants do not disturb picnics (never invited), and the river stays well-behaved within natural and photogenic borders. We love nature, but we do not love the smell of manure.
After the political era of European reconstruction, after the time of social participation and “imagination au pouvoir”, after the years of self-discovery and body ownership, we are living in the global, omnipotent and not-involving civilization of entertainment where everything should and must attract eyes, ears without risking limbs or possibly without moving from the armchair. TV-Dinner-Extreme to be consumed obtusely in the armchair.
TV-Dinner-Adventure requires a heavy dose of visual impact. For the spectators bracing the Scottish winds to support the off-road riders, a tricky rocky passage completed feet-up was emotionally sufficient: the seated and dined spectator needs more to feel the wind in his living room. We live in “entertaining times”; the craving for show and showing (off) creates a passion for the extreme.
Years ago, Mother complained that the “greatest show on earth”, the Circus, was disappearing. Do not fear; the Circus has never been so popular: every event, from marriage to death, from sport to politics, is turning into an opportunity for the Circus. And if “panem”, the bread, is becoming more and more challenging to gain, “circenses”, the games of the Circus, are amply available for free with the compliment of Red Bull, under the eyes of GopPro . Humans go where no human has been before, probably because no human before has been so bored, so empty, so void of significant.
No human (and no machine) was there before because there was, and often, there is no point in being there, no point in jumping or rolling or sliding or wheeling. Courage must be reserved for more prestigious causes. In ethics circles, risking life for stupidity is not considered worthy or entertaining.
The fact is that this pressure for extreme touches us all not only pushes us to spend more and more on pro-extreme-tech equipment and tools but also affects the way we approach biking and parallel life. ‘Extreme’ is pushing constructors to a futile race for power. Sales results show that fixing the “entry power level” for bikes at 100 HP is pushing riders away from motorcycling. While it is a game to dress as Valentino Rossi, buying good equipment is becoming absurdly expensive. While it is nice to go “no limits”, the YouTube-ExtremeSport-LookwhileIamdyingTV clips of wheeling Hayabusas and flying Husabergs turn time into boredom.
It is a special kind of pornography that pushes a lot of us to live virtually and to reject the real. We go to circuits and ride for hours in 5KM tubs without enjoying the road; we sit and chat, watch, read, google and browse instead of riding. “Socializing” had, in the past, a certain ring and a touch of personal, intimate, exciting, almost sexy; now, it is a matter of mouse.
It would be good to move from one EXTREME to NEW EXTREME: take the bike and move to the real domain of extreme reality, where awareness and knowledge are so acute that all is real insofar as all is my sole responsibility. Taking the bike out every day for the pleasure of it, even if it means taking a few hours from sleeping in at night or in the early part of the day. And push the ride to the EXTREME KNOWLEDGE, eliminating the show for the sake of showing.
