OK! IT’S MID-LIFE CRISIS TIME

With “property issues to attend to” in Spain, I qualified for essential travel prerequisites, prompting me to book the next First Class (the first sign of mid-life, adopting the “Fuck it” attitude) Qatar flight to Madrid. Spain’s restrictions were considerably more relaxed upon arrival, particularly as the country approached the summer months. While vaccination efforts gained momentum globally and Australia persisted with its stringent lockdown protocols, Spain gradually began easing restrictions and re-opening its economy. With Spain's more relaxed stance towards restrictions, there was a sense of optimism as businesses bustled with activity and people reclaimed a semblance of normalcy, a stark contrast to the sombre atmosphere I had left behind in Australia. 

Spain's greatest asset has always been its people. From the rhythmic beats of flamenco echoing through cobblestone streets to the joyous chaos of La Tomatina before COVID-19, Spanish traditions are a vibrant reflection of its people's spirit. Being here, far away from the troubles of my homeland, was a balm to my fractured self.

I was sitting in a sidewalk café, slowly sipping an espresso, when I was drawn to a juxtaposition of old and new— a weathered “post no bills” sign standing next to a freshly erected billboard bearing the words, “Live Your Legend.” 

Several Harley Davidson advertisements have left an impression on me over the years; call it what you will, “a midlife crisis” –a tongue-in-cheek ultimate rite of passage reaching the halfway mark and the timeless tradition of buying a Harley Davidson. Because when you hit that magical age where your hairline starts receding and your waistline starts expanding, nothing says “Fuck it “ better than hitting the open road with the roar of a V-twin soft-tail Fatboy Cruiser! So, it didn’t take much then to nudge me from that café table to the nearest Harley Davidson dealer.

From the moment I stepped into the dealership, I felt the unmistakable ambience of Harley-culture. Amongst the rows of gleaming motorcycles stood the iconic silhouette of the Fatboy, with its wide front end, solid disk wheels, and signature chrome, all part of its allure.

 I wandered through the dealership for hours, my mind drifting over and over again to thoughts of Julia. I imagined what she’d say if we were still together. She would have rolled her eyes at my newfound obsession and, at the very least, iced me for several months.

I don’t know if it was the roar of engines and the scent of leather or an act of rebellion against the new COVID world, but maybe we should call it by what it is—a definite Midlife Crisis. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of liberation as I twisted the throttle and rumbled out of the dealership. 

There's something about the rumble of a Harley that screams, “I’m not ready for retirement homes and lawn bowling just yet!” I like to think of it as a middle finger to the mundane. Of course, the association between midlife and buying a Harley Davidson has become a bit of a punchline; let's face it, the Harley Davidson is the ultimate Fuck You of midlife rebellion. Let's acknowledge the elephant in the room. So, you hit your forties or fifties, going through a nasty divorce, wondering if this is all there is to life, and then it hits you: “I need a Harley!”: Harley Davidson isn’t just a motorcycle; it’s a lifestyle. And, of course, it comes with the inevitable midlife crisis accessory: the leather jacket. Nothing says “I'm having a meltdown,” like dressing like a reject from a 90’s rock band. 

But hey, who said midlife had to be boring? Sure, you could buy a sports car or take up extreme sports. Still, there's something undeniably exhilarating about a two-wheeled death machine hitting the open road and leaving everything behind in the rearview mirror.

Despite the inevitable raised eyebrows and concerned looks from friends and family, embracing your Easy Rider inner badass when life hands you a midlife crisis is a definite statement that you're not going quietly.