BRO, do you even handguard? The route you take in protecting those magical fingers says a lot about who you are. Don’t believe me? Spend more time actually riding dirtbikes instead of whacking off on to interracial bestiality videos and you will see. Let’s get to it:
You’re a question mark. We really cannot gather too much information about who you are as a person from this aspect alone. You might be a normal guy who pays his taxes and eats at Applebee’s with the family, or you might be the type who fancies beating his children with a set of tire irons while wearing a Scooby Doo mask. We’ll have to take a look at your grips and visor position to get a better gauge on that one.
Standard MX Handguards
Ok, fine. Either you are racing in upstate New York, the Pacific Northwest, or you just don’t like having dirt hit your hands. Can’t really blame you. Rocks can hurt, and rocks from a wide-open 450 can literally shoot your eye out (Danny Stuart). None of us out there can deny having had a pebble drill us right in the Fuck You finger and cursed our own selves for not running hand-guards on the bike. But I mean, come on, I hate having my handlebars look like a crowded parking lot.
The KTM Special
Hello, Mr. KTM. I’m going to need to borrow something orange, can you help me out? Of course you can, because you know goddamn well that you have a KTM EZ Up, umbrellas, jacket, tool kit, hats, tee shirt, sweatshirt, pit shirt, golf shirt, jersey, pillow cases, condoms, toaster, and bar pad to go with your motorcycle. Because you don’t ride a Japanese motorcycle, and the world needs to know about it, even though KTM is way too popular these days to be a “brotherhood”. You are exactly like all the goth kids who cut themselves and hate conformists, yet dress exactly alike. Congratulations. And if you do not in fact ride a KTM but run these handguards, do the world a favor and kill yourself.
If there is one thing you hate, it’s trees. But the bitter irony is that you love woods riding, which would be rendered impossible without those asshole trees. Alas, there exists a solution, and it is bolted onto your Renthals. Essentially brass knuckles for motocross, your Bark Busters allow your fingers to go unsmashed as you weave your way through the forest. You run from environmental police on the regular, and when at the track, you do not care if you boner air every single jump, because real riding happens while your butt-fucking Mother Nature raw-dog.
Whatever The Fuck These Are Called
Listen, there will not be a speck of dirt touching these gorgeous pieces of heavenly art that you call hands. Crafted by the gods themselves, these masterful specimens will work magic on that clutch, throttle, and maybe front brake if you decide to use it, unblemished by the soil of lesser being. You do not give a fuck that your handguards look like you tore them off the boat that just won the America’s Cup. You also have literally considered murdering your wife when she opened a bag of chips in your car, and let’s just say the dog “ran away” after it shit in your living room the other day. Everyone at the track is a fucking hater, and you know it. Sail on, brother.