I’m deeply suspicious of anybody who doesn’t thrill to the sound of a motorcycle engine. Motorcycles can be serious works of art, the ultimate coalescence of form and function. Those who choose to race them have got to be the maddest of the mad and the absolute involvement in the moment necessary to avoid death, could teach the odd Buddhist a thing or two. It’s like time stands still when you watch man (there have been the odd women) and machine. So even though I find the take over of our world by machines absurd and horrible, I enjoy immensely going to a motorcycle race, and no I can’t and don’t try to reconcile these seemingly irreconcilable positions.