On the way home last night I stopped at a church near my home. The landscape had that intense end of autumn feel where the sky seems bloated with the color and shape of snow. Looking across the cemetery I experienced a flood of memories extending back to childhood and while not all of them were pleasant I was grateful for the experiences and being able to accept them. As I walked around I saw this tree standing as a silent witness to the world — much like I was to my own world.
Last night I had a dream about my dog Iggy Pup. It was one of those dreams that is so real that you see, smell and touch. Iggy Pup was a big American Foxhound and possessed all the qualities of a stubborn and ingenious hound.
How does this relate to riding and memory aside from the random experience described above? For the past few years I have been working to pay attention more to my life and not allow myself to be devoured by things that rob me of what is important. The noise and chaos of everyday living can easily put a man to sleep. I did not want to wake up on my death bed and realize I squandered my life. I have used writing, photography, video and now riding as tools to pay attention. The link to the video below was made to help me understand, pay attention to, and accept things that were part of my life. And not just the good things like a loving family, a good job, friends and a scooter in the garage but also those difficult transitions that we all face eventually. As I thought about my experience on the way home yesterday I realized that the Vespa has a powerful ability to heighten my awareness not only of the road but my entire life. And from that awareness I form memory, something important to who I am.
For those of you who ride recreationally this might seem a stretch. For those riders who have succumbed to the siren song and ride longer than seems prudent you may already be experiencing some of these unexpected gifts. Life unfolds at its own pace whether we are paying attention or not and I do not want to miss any of it.
I came across this at modern vespa and i have to say more power to you for sticking your neck out. It struck me as interesting that your voice broke as you described the end of iggy and your voice stayed even as you watched once again, your father die. I never have managed to explain the hold that dogs get on us- and that sense of betrayal at The End- it never leaves me.
My wife came home the other day, and prosaic woman that she is, said a propos nothing, “riding the Vespa makes me much more aware of traffic.” Now she understands why, when we are in the car, I rant sottovoce at my fellow cagers doing anything and everything except pay attention to the road.
As for the Memory: smell powers memory. Eg: long after your lx150 goes to the scrapheap when you are tottering past a scooter in your dotage a whiff of metal and rubber and warm engine will make you point like your old dog. weird but true.
This is the third time I’ve tried to comment on this post. It’s fair to say that it left me speechless.
Riding is certainly about trying to capture quality memories out of all the noise that is modern life.
Recording those memories with a camera, and in words… essentially “canning” them for storage, is a worthy endeavor. It helps to preserve them as they are, at the time, so they don’t get warped by our evolving perceptions.
Your use of video is especially powerful. Wow.
The sun is shining, and it is going to warm up to near 60 today. I’m going to think carefully about where to ride. I want it to be memorable…
Thanks, Steve.
Ride well,
=gc=
Sometimes I read a post and move on. Other times I feel that I need to react and comment. Now that I’m trying to say something, I can’t figure out how.
After taking in your post, I just sat there and said “Whoa, that was huge”. Very powerful.
You’ve given me another angle to look from. I apprieciate it.
Bill
conchscooter: I can only say that the relationship with a dog touches something deeply personal. A dog can be completely accepting and trusting in a way that another person cannot and tremendous grief results from that loss. For those who have never had a dog they probably can’t understand. I don’t suggest that one loss is deeper than the other, only different.
I hope my tottering waits a few more years but I know you’re right about smell. I experience that already with aromas from my childhood.
gary: Your writing has helped focus on what to do with the noise of modern life. I constantly think about Existential Gravity. The Vespa and the things I have learned while riding and reading are pretty amazing. Thank you for sharing your experiences.
bill: Thanks for reading and posting. I know how many people have influenced me by saying or doing something to give me pause from my auto-pilot and look at things from a different angle as you suggest. I’m just passing it all forward….
I found this via the Modern Vespa pages. I watched the video twice in the past 30 minutes. It is gratifying to find another soul who is comfortable in their discussion of what ails and aids them. We are all libraries of memories, and the honesty of this piece lifts it well away from the shelves of life. Thank you. Keep on.
A very good post Steve. There are times, like just this weekend, when I was trying to tell someone why I ride. It was really difficult. I think I’ll point her to your post and see if she gets the idea.
john: The older I get the more interested I am in how people deal with the things that come up in their life. I can share things like that here a bit easier than it is in situations with people in person. These topics can be considered private or personal struggles not comfortably shared or faced.
snark: The answers to the why I ride questions are almost not understandable to someone who has not ridden on a scooter or motorcycle. The risks and danger in their mind is so great that nothing can penetrate that concern. I’ve had more than a few discussions with people and they listen but they always end with “yeah, BUT you are going to get killed.” That fear is hard to bridge.
Keep riding.
Steve- Your video was amazing and moving. I have to say I gasped at the image of your dad at death. He looked exactly like my dad when he passed away from Alzheimer’s four years ago. It is an image I will never forget and it still affects me deeply.
I admire your exceptional ability to express your thoughts and feelings through “words and images.”
I feel a wonderful sense of kinship with your posts about scootering. I love my Vino 125 and the soul fulfillment that I get with long rides. It’s like a long cool drink on a hot day – refreshing and satisfying.
I also identified with conchscooter’s comments about the strong memory tug of scent. Have you ever walked into someone’s home and it smelled like grandma’s? Or maybe like the house of a long lost childhood friend? It would be cool to be able to capture scents like we can images through photography.
Thanks for your thoughtful postings, Steve. You have led many of us along a scenic road.
Steve,
Your video – thank you!
When my dad died I wasn’t there. I’m not sure he was there either. The last time I remember seeing him he didn’t remember me. Remembering that now brings me in touch with wordless sadness. After he died there was an unexpected hole in the universe for years. No words for that just a hugh hole.
Earlier on when I knew his memory was going, I wrote him a letter and in it I wrote about the images I keep of him from my childhood, well the positive ones anyway, and my sister told me that he would ask her to read that letter to him while he was looking out the window.
I like to think that he was able to take those memories from me and carry them with him into his journey.
Be well.
Steve,
Your video – thank you!
When my dad died I wasn’t there. I’m not sure he was there either. The last time I remember seeing him he didn’t remember me. Remembering that now brings me in touch with wordless sadness. After he died there was an unexpected hole in the universe for years. No words for that just a hugh hole.
Earlier on when I knew his memory was going, I wrote him a letter and in it I wrote about the images I keep of him from my childhood, well the positive ones anyway, and my sister told me that he would ask her to read that letter to him while he was looking out the window.
I like to think that he was able to take those memories from me and carry them with him into his journey.
Be well.
(n.b. I previously submitted this as “anonymous” on 11/19/06. I was new to blogspot at that time and still trying to figure out how to post comments, etc.)