In few countries on the planet there is a great passion for fast riding on two wheels. Motorcycle, that blinking desire when a teenage itch calls for speed to go to no-man’s-land, to the wild side of life, to a beach full of danger, to the top where you can think of the land of Mad Max. . Motorcycle. Oh the motorcycle.
A friend who is a car expert gave me the information: We have 22 Spanish world champions. From Angel Nieto to Izan Guevara via Ricardo Tormo and Aspar, here we are, the cradle of heroes. The number is impressive. Yes, which is the reason for the fund being inflated in front of the powers that do not contribute much to the hero. Here we are endowed with talent and passion that is surprising beyond borders. But then the spoiler side poisoned me, and once I overcame my first pride shock between National and Patriot, I thought yes, many champions in the motorcycle division but very few Nobel laureates in science. I find the gap somewhat strange, why in some disciplines we are so good and in others we are limping like a crippled frog? A hasty reading will tell us that a motorcycle needs courage and genius as a result of training, as well as a willingness to take risks, dash, rage, and explode. In other words, the bike is perfect for our Southern personality. Science requires rest, study, elbows, more study, calm, abundant money to invest in glowing white atomic microscopes and laboratories, relaxed intelligence that reflects on barbarism, and a serene environment. In other words, science in Spain is suitable for distinguished minds who alone struggle against public misunderstanding. It would be nice to balance the motorcycles with science in this Spain that we have, wouldn’t it?