Too Much Testosterone

No Sale

At the dealership, he was within seconds of pulling the trigger on a new Royal Enfield, but the nagging voice of fiscal responsibility unexpectedly appeared. Taking the salesman’s business card, we abruptly decamped to discuss the possible purchase over a tray of food at a nearby drive-in.

“You know,” he said with a mouth full of coney dog, “I’m not even sure why I want a bike like this. Top speed is 67 miles per hour, with a tailwind!”

“First, you’ve already made your purchase decision, which is why we rode 40 miles,” I pointed out. “Second, you’ve got the cash in hand. Third, you’re the last person in the world to worry about how fast you can go. Just buy the damn thing and don’t look back!”

It was a pretty shocking moment. We’ve known each other for about 40 years, and I normally play the part of the parsimonious, anxiety-ridden reluctant, while he always throws caution to the wind and enjoys life to the utmost. I think they slipped something into the draft root beer we were enjoying.

We continued talking about our love for riding motorcycles, me the eager newbie and he the old hand. Our shared outlook is to cruise at a reasonable velocity and stop whenever a roadside vegetable stand, greasy-spoon diner or sketchy roadside attraction beckons. We decided our many friends who like to run fast and hard are welcome to continue their perilous sprints, but we’ll keep happily poking along in the rearview mirror.

During our conversation, my friend casually mentioned how many guys in our age group are now taking testosterone supplements to enhance their “maleness” and how these tended to be the same guys who had the loudest, flashiest and fastest motorcycles. As we stood up and cleared our food tray, we agreed it was a good thing both of us have (mostly) moved past the abundant testosterone-fueled stupidity of our younger days.

On my ride home, however, I started thinking about a couple of recent podcast episodes where we built the case for carrying snub-nose revolvers. One major takeaway was that for most folks, a smaller/less powerful caliber for self-defense makes sense because you tend to have better accuracy due to lower recoil. As I cruised down the highway thinking, it became apparent the twin topics — dodgy motorcycle riding and CCW caliber selection — were strangely entwined and just might be related to the testosterone levels of the person in question.