In this country, one has a choice: You can either drive a car that’s been thoroughly tested and regulated to ensure your safety, or ride an exhilarating death trap.
In this country, one has a choice: You can either drive a car that’s been thoroughly tested and regulated to ensure your safety, or ride an exhilarating death trap.
A s we get deeper into summertime, more Americans can be seen out on the road doing one of their favorite activities: riding motorcycles. The image of a bearded man barreling down his local highway, hair flowing back in the wind on a blistering sunny day, is iconic. You can’t help but see that sight numerous times while driving in July.
Unfortunately, the summer is also the peak time for Americans to die horrifically in motorcycle accidents. From June to September, more than 700 people each month take their final rides, fatally crashing either on their own or with another vehicle — typically a car.
Alas, nothing exhilarating comes without risk. But the risk associated with motorcycles is, well, unbelievably high. Motorcycles are the most dangerous mode of transportation in the United States, far and away. The Department of Transportation finds that, “per vehicle miles traveled in 2023, motorcyclists were about 28 times more likely than passenger car occupants to die in a motor vehicle crash and were 5 times more likely to be injured.” Despite motorcycles constituting roughly 3 percent of vehicles on the road, motorcycle accidents account for 15 percent of all traffic deaths and 19 percent of driver and passenger fatalities. Short of jumping off a cliff or out of a plane without a parachute, motorcycling is one of the most dangerous recreational activities out there.
It’s also remarkably popular. Over the last decade, the number of registered motorcycles on U.S. roads has more than doubled — reaching 8.8 million in 2023. That same year, Americans bought 547,000 more of the things, spending $5.6 billion on on-road motorcycles. Eight percent of American households, or 1.5 million homes, have a motorcycle in their garage.
This invites the question: Why? It’s not as though Americans don’t appreciate the risk of riding a motorcycle. Virtually everyone knows that larger vehicles are much safer (for those sitting inside them, anyway) and that motorcycles offer basically no protection for the rider. If you crash your motorcycle, there’s a very good chance you’re going to die. But the millions of Americans who choose to purchase and ride them evidently do not care.
That is unlikely to change. Americans love our cars — and reject European train culture — because the automobile properly suits a nation that is accustomed to freedom in almost every aspect of life. We wish to roam. And attaining the truest form of freedom on the road can mean transcending the automobile’s four walls and wheels. On a bike, it’s you and your environment out there, nothing in between. You are completely unconfined.
Sure, other places depend on motorcycles far more than the United States does. In Asian countries like Thailand and Vietnam, motorbikes are ubiquitous. But that reliance is mostly born of necessity, motorcycles being a relatively cheap and convenient way to get around in crowded cities. America, though, is exceptionally rich and open. This is a car-centric society. We don’t need to drive motorcycles anywhere. It’s a passion we choose to indulge.
To preserve that pursuit, and the irreplicable sense of liberation it brings, even our overbearing regulatory state is willing to make allowances.
Consider how dramatically America’s culture around car safety differs. Automobiles are subject to reams of regulations — 562 pages’ worth from the federal government alone — to ensure drivers’ and passengers’ safety. Every U.S. state except New Hampshire requires adults to wear a seatbelt. When any problem with a car’s safety comes to light — whether it be the Ford Pinto’s exploding gas tanks, Toyota’s faulty acceleration, or Takata’s erupting airbags — it is met with massive uproar and controversy. Americans have bought ever-larger and more technologically advanced vehicles, in large part, because we are obsessed with car safety.
But then we have motorcycles, which Americans are even more obsessed with. So, in this country, you get a choice on the road. You can either drive a car that is regulated for safety top to bottom, has undergone rigorous crash testing, is certified by the federal government, and will be recalled if the slightest defect arises. Orrr, you can ride a death trap. Up to you!
The tiny, adorable “Kei cars” you can find all over Japan are practically banned from American roads because the government believes they are slightly less safe than regular-sized automobiles. Okay, makes sense. Until you remember that motorcycles are nearly 30 times as dangerous as cars, and the government is perfectly fine with those.
America has made enormous strides in traffic safety in the last century, driving down the accident fatality rate from more than 150 deaths per billion miles traveled in the 1920s to approximately twelve today. That decline in traffic deaths of over 90 percent reflects remarkable progress toward safer roads. On the other hand, the fatality rate from motorcycle crashes is north of 210 deaths per billion miles traveled.
So, given that motorcycles are such a glaring exception to the country’s usual standards of vehicular safety, are we ever getting rid of them? Of course not. Could you imagine if an American politician proposed banning motorcycles because they’re obviously unsafe? Even if he cited all the data that I have provided? Even if he pointed out it makes no sense to regulate cars’ safety so strictly if we also allow people to freely ride motorcycles? People would riot!
And that’s the heart of Americans’ love affair with motorcycles. We know they’re dangerous to ride, but we simply cannot stop saddling up. We expect the highest level of safety when it comes to our boring old cars, sure, but we’re willing to make every exception to preserve a cultural icon. Speeding down the road with nothing but air between you and the pavement, weaving in and out of traffic, wind slapping you in the face — that’s just too good to give up.
As for me, I’m probably never getting on one of those things. I know the statistics too well to forget them. But even I can admit: America wouldn’t really be America without its motorcycles.