The essential Los Angeles motorcycling skill is splitting lanes. It is pretty simple at low speeds but before you come out here and try it for yourself there are a couple of things you need to know.
First, this city’s great, cultural gift to the world is the right turn on red so you want to try to avoid splitting on the far right. Second, some of the cops out here will ticket you for illegal lane change if your foot or your peg ever crosses the line between lanes when you stop. So if you smell a cop put your right foot down when you stop instead of your left. And, needless to say, whatever you do don’t hit anybody. If you hit anything or anybody while splitting lanes you will be cited.
Probably. Unless you are somebody important. Like Brad Pitt.
I have been leaving messages with Brad Pitt’s press agent for the last 24 hours. I honestly believe Brad could benefit from going out and playing motorcycles with me for about a day. I believe I could make Brad a better, more confidant motorcycle rider. As far as I am concerned, for a thousand bucks, as long as he signs that full waiver, we can go split lanes on the Long Beach Freeway. Ain’t no thing.
But, so far, Pitt’s publicist keeps acting like he can’t hear me.
It is a pity, too. Because Brad could use me. Or if not me, anyone of you. Go for it. I am giving up. As far as I am concerned, there is plenty of wannabe macho movie star business for everybody.
Motorcycle And Monkeys
Brad Pitt loves motorcycles. Brad Pitt collects motorcycles like Michael Jackson used to collect monkeys. And, frankly, I think if he had not chosen to waste his life as a millionaire movie star old Brad could have been a biker. Maybe.
For example, he has blindly irrational enemies. “I’m one of those people you hate because of genetics. It is the truth,” Pitt once told a reporter.
For another example, he has a weakness for really crazy women. And, just judging from that last quote, he obviously never gives a damn how stupid he sounds. And a couple of months ago he even got drunk and called up his ex-wife and called her “Baby.”
“Oh baby. Baby. Jen, baby. You know Angie just doesn’t get me. Baby, baby, maybe, you ever think maybe we should get back together for just one more night? You know, just to make sure we didn’t make a mistake?” Like that’s never been you.
And, Pitt likes to ride his motorcycles. He likes to ride around and around the block in Beverly Hills. Don’t laugh. Isn’t that how many of us learned to ride? Well, probably not in Beverly Hills but….
Only the absolute stupidest and luckiest of us can remember the conversation that went, “Okay. Okay. Got you. Right. Which one did you say was the brake? Oh yeah? Well, which one is the clutch? Really? Are you sure? Well, okay then! I’m gone go give that freeway a try!”
When Brad Pitt needs to unwind, he goes for a ride. “This is my anonymity,” Pitt told W Magazine this summer about his large, gold motorcycle helmet. “With it, I’m just another asshole on the streets.”
Pitt, in short, is pretty much just like us except his old lady is Angelina Jolie, his ex is Jennifer Anniston, he is not juggling bills or ducking process servers, he has about two or three million dollars worth of motorcycles to choose from and the rest of us assholes out on the Los Angeles streets know how to ride.
Yesterday morning Pitt was riding his six figure, chopped, rigid, Confederate Motorcycle around and around in West Hollywood and Beverly Hills. He decided to split lanes on the right, between traffic and a line of parked cars. He clipped the mirror of one of the parked cars with his handlebars, lost control of his bike and fell flat on his left side.
Help Me I Have Fallen
A good Samaritan rescued him, helped him get his bike up and helped him roll it out of the street. Pitt then ran into a nearby apartment building and reemerged when a car came to pick him up. He left the bike sitting there and disappeared into the hot, October smog. He was not cited by local police.
Just like us, right?
And, no. Don’t even bother. The bike is not still there.