Every action has a price. Most of the time the price is small and easy to overlook. At times chance and providence provide enough light to see the bigger costs. Riding, at it’s best, presents me an opportunity to see the world free of the chaos and illusion I create or find myself wading neck deep. On the road, even on a morning ride to work, the wind and the sound of the road can strip away the noise in my head and leave me breathless at the miracle of being alive.
Standing before Mount Nittany, watching the horses graze, tails slapping at the morning flies, watching the warm light lick across the tall corn I’m aware of how fleeting all this is. Behind me the morning commuter traffic roars by on the expressway with cars and trucks bent on getting things done.
Getting Things Done. A war cry in the business world and a phrase of near cult status among aficionados of achievement, success and Stephen Coveyites. I’ve pursued some form of this myself as I struggle to make better and more efficient use of my time and energy at work.
Just a couple weeks ago while riding into work on a particularly quiet, empty morning I could not help but notice how my mind raced around a problem at work, lighting for an instant on a solution before darting to another much as a hummingbird moves from flower to flower.
The idea of getting things done is seductive and the tools to plug in, connect and stay engaged are many. And behold, late in the evening last week, while barely able to keep my eyes open I found myself sitting on the bed, iPhone in hand, answering email, checking my calendar, adding notes to a Google Doc, and Tweeting a picture of my Vespa. I was getting things done. I was also torturing myself in ways I could not fully appreciate.
Nothing like a choppy, impatient brain to reek havoc on one’s ability to focus on complex problems, write, or make sense of chaos. With the iPhone sitting on my desk, bristling with data and information just an arms length away, I knew it had to go.
And so it has as I upgraded to a feature phone that is, well, a phone. And it can receive text messages or create them with mind numbing slowness that only a numeric keypad can engender. No more Camera+ or TweetDeck. No more checking email with addictive frequency or browsing the web at ever spare moment. I’ve taken back my brain so I can use for the things that I am valued for and not apply it to a kind of simulated feeling of accomplishment that can come from being plugged into an endless supply of data and information.
The result has seen the chaos in my head evaporate. And that which does appear is the result of real problems rather than artificially created through the misuse of a device promising convenience but delivering to me something different.
On the road I am careful of my choices as a rider. Seems only right to apply that to the rest of my life.
And perhaps there is a subconscious recognition of the danger of too much information when I recently responded to the familiar inquiry of “If you were going to buy a motorcycle today which one would you get?” with the words “Triumph Scrambler.”
A simple, functional machine that makes my Vespa seem overloaded with data outputs. No tachometer, fuel gauge, or much of anything. I’ve been riding one recently and have fallen in love. I suppose it’s no coincidence that the bike is a model of simplicity.
I know the iPhone and other devices of convenience aren’t a problem for everyone but for me, they hobble my abilities to think, write, photograph or wrap my head around large, complex problems. The price of ownership and use is just too high.
Later today I will purchase a paper calendar to keep in my pocket.
For some people simplicity is a form of self denial. It’s virtue will become apparent to them as our economy continues to shrink. However only those of us with long legs can properly appreciate the virtues of the Scrambler over the Bonneville…
gearing up and un-gearing for riding can be pretty complex — especially in the winter. But, the ride itself is zen for me. totally in the moment, taking in all around you – road conditions, positions of cars, upcoming intersections, the feel and sound of the scooter, but then completely letting it go to stay aware and in the next current moment. it’s how I practice mindful meditation.
As for paper planners, I seem to reconfigure mine every time my duties at work change. A great weekly planner on a single sheet of paper can be made at http://www.pocketmod.com/ or http://repocketmod.com/
Steve:
it seems that you cannot resist the temptation of using the tools which are available within an arm’s reach, just because you have the tools doesn’t mean you should have to be consulting it every moment. I had followed with interest a few months ago when you were posting your stunning iPhone photos with all those camera apps and decided that I had to have one. I like the idea that I have a computer in my pocket. I prefer text messages and evidently I have no friends as I seldom use the phone feature. The last time it rang, it scared me
good luck on your quest for the simple life
bob
Riding the Wet Coast
That scrambler is one pretty motorcycle….how does one not get their thighs burned though by those pipes?
Being a network geek for a job, technology and “always being connected” is part and parcel of the deal. I look forward to my motorcycling time as I am truly disconnected from “the net” at that point.
dom
Redleg’s Rides
Colorado Motorcycle Travel Examiner
Interesting approach. I remember the times where a phone was a phone for the purpose of calling somebody with an important message…
I use a simple pay-as-you-go phone privately, and ignore my friggin’ company blackberry whenever possible.
Quiet hours of free thinking, undisturbed by electronic beeps and blinks.
I like your philosophy very much, although I will certainly miss your iPhone pics.
No doubt the Scrambler is a beauty, but like the Bonnie far away from the reality of my budget.
I am looking forward to reading more from Steve ‘unplugged’.
I don’t know, multipoint fuel injection to me means computer and high pressure fuel pump. Sounds overly complex to me but then again, according to Jack R, my bike runs on coal…
As far as being always connected, the iPhone is a convenience and means I need to carry around a lot less junk. It simplified things for me.
I have a love/hate relationship with my Iphone.
I love that I can find out pretty much anything (Google), capture just about anything (Camera+, GPS Lite, Shazzam), command with my voice (phone, music, Dragon Dictate), communicate with anyone (e-mail, text, MMS, Facetime) and everyone (my blog, Modern Vespa), listen to any of my music, while gazing at all my photos, unless I’m watching a video clip on YouTube, or a movie on Netflix.
I hate that it consumes my attention like a paper towel sucks moisture, and insulates me from real life as it passes me by at increasing speed.
Remember life in the 60’s? It was much simpler then. There was much more to wonder about.
I refuse to buy an iPhone, I canceled my Facebook page, and I do use a paper pocket calender… and pencil. The cell phone I do have is left turned off for days at a time. My favorite bike of the several we have is the Suzuki DR650 with one instrument only, an old fashioned analog speedo, black needle and numbers on a white face.
~Grumpy Old Man~
… and that’s the way I like it!
I have an idea how you feel. My cell phone fell into the lake on Independance Day and I haven’t yet done anything about it. I’m torn (still addicted?) between the liberation of this accidental freedom and the ability to stay in touch with my wife when I’m out somewhere. Then again, tonight she offered me take her cell so she could contact me.
There’s a certain elegance in simplicity.
Harv
Dear Sir:
And you’d be amazed at what happens when you ride around with the phone switched off.
Fondest regards,
Jack/reep
Twisted Roads
“…the wind and the sound of the road can strip away the noise in my head and leave me breathless at the miracle of being alive.”
It always amazes me when thoughts and feelings I carry around with me, yet can’t adequately put into words, are expressed by you as if child’s play. I know this feeling so well and have alluded to it many times, but not as beautifully as you have expressed it here.
As for the rest, I’m not ready to give up the gadgets yet. I wanted some of them before their concepts even existed, and at times I find myself regretting that I wasn’t born later because of the technology I’m going to miss.
Joe at Scootin’ da Valley
Does your telephone make ice for a cold drink? If not it could be telling you to chill out and turn the darn thing off.
I have a simple pay as you use. Mobile phones are one more reason technology is not our friend!
I looked at both a Blacberry and an iPhone and both had keys far too small to use, for my enormous hands. The mobile I use is for those with poor vision, the keys are large and the options few
I have a phone “. . . that is, well, a phone.” I have a friend who texts me occasionally. I don’t like being available all the time. It’s taken over sixty years for me to give myself permission to not be.
I never would have thought that there would be a danger in too much information, but I’m thinking there is. Keeping it simple isn’t as easy as it once seemed, but what do I know. I ride a Symba.
Lots of food to chew on in this post. Thank you.
Thanks, Steve, once again. I am actually one of the very few people I know who does not own a Smart/Android-anything phone just an “ancient” regular cell phone, and was just contemplating upgrading because it seems that everyone these days expects instant responses to email etc. It cannot even wait anymore until one gets home or back to one’s desk. Reading your entry made me once again aware of the reasons I have not yet upgraded: I do not like the 100 % availability technology creates these days. I am not good at multitasking, and most of the ‘information’ one receives this way is nothing critical or important. I canceled my Facebook account months ago and have yet to regret it.
While I might still get a more capable phone at some point, I am sure that it will be turned off most of the time. Just like the one I have now. Here’s to the currently unfashionable concept of Slowness… 🙂
Conchscooter: I used to think of self imposed simplicity as self denial. No longer. Not for a long time. Now simplicity is a difficult path.
And like you, I appreciate the virtues of both Triumph motorcycles. And I find the high pipes fascinating.
Kim Morris: Sounds as if you and I have both found the same experience on the road. I’m grateful to have found it.
Thanks for the ideas for paper planners too. They look interesting.
bobskoot: I wish I found myself not consulting the iPhone constantly. Unfortunately that wasn’t the case and I just found it draining.
Maybe someday in the future I’ll try it again. When I’ve grown and matured a bit.
Charlie6: The pipes are well shielded and it would take some effort to burn yourself. You would have to grab the unshielded pipe as it exits the cylinder head or stick your fingers through the gaps between the shields. No more burned thighs on the new Triumph.
Disconnecting has some real value but I understand how some careers and jobs have different requirements.
SonjaM: “Quiet hours of free thinking, undisturbed by electronic beeps and blinks.”
That’s what I’m after. Time to think and work uninterrupted.
And I’ll find something to replace the iPhone pictures. And I could still use the phone as a camera I suppose…
RichardM: Pay no attention to anything Jack Riepe says. He’s just trying to mesmerize you.
So far, without the iPhone, I walk around with less stuff. Tiny phone and a couple index cards to scribble notes on.
Time will tell.
David Masse: You’re right about being able to do practically anything on the iPhone. For me that was the probably. I was always doing something with the iPhone.
The sixties are sort of fuzzy for me. I remember some things but not with the raging clarity of the 70s.
poppawheelie: (Grumpy old man) Sounds as if you and I have the same sort of attitude towards technology. I have to admit I waver at times but continued experiences of losing myself in the toys brings me back once again to a simpler set up.
American Scooterist Blog: (Harv) Long time since I’ve seen you post here.
Losing a phone could be a liberating experience. Like opening a new checking account or having your computer die with nothing backed up — just start over from scratch. A rebirth.
I liked your recent post about the heat of Vegas and how a rider has to assess their limitations in hot weather. A recent ride in 100F and humid air brought me close to mine.
Jack Riepe: So far I have just had relaxed rides with the phone in my pocket. I can never hear it ring so it might as well be off.
But then, you are a natural magnet for experiences and they just flock to you. I saw it first hand in Bloomsburg. I need to write that story.
Joe: I wouldn’t say words come to me as child’s play. It’s more as if some ideas are more alive than others. And the more I write, the more practiced I get at expressing them. Or something like that.
As far as gadgets go, the older I get the less enthralled I am with them. I see their utility and use them but not with the wild gusto of years past.
Bryce: No ice or cold drinks from the iPhone. At least not that I could figure out.
My new phone cost $29.95 and works fine. I’m hand with it and have only dropped it once!
Circle Blue: I first became aware of too much information while working through the Artist’s Way book with some friends. There was a week where you were not allowed to read anything. No cereal boxes, newspapers, websites, etc. I made an exception for work –email, reports, etc, but nothing else.
After the first day I was crawling out of my skin because I read so much, take in so much info outside of what I need for work.
The second day was horrible — like going through some sort of withdrawal. What was really weird is if you had asked me if I read a lot I would have said no. Turned out I read things constantly –labels, signs, billboards, ads, news, web.
Without that flow of information you are left with yourself and your thoughts. Ugh.
Schnarpsel: The concept of slowness is hard to get your head around. The Vespa helped and I had already been down that path photographically when I made a conscious decision to use a big wooden field camera. I knew it’s physicality would force me to work more slowly.
Slower isn’t necessarily better but it is definitely different and yields a different experience. For me the slower experience is more useful and powerful. Most of the time.
Professionally I don’t always have the option to work that way and can certainly work in a faster mode. But when I have a choice I find the more deliberate method gives better creative results.
Welcome home, my friend. It’s where you belong. A true Warrior needs only a sharp sword and a willing steed. A true Poet needs only a sharp quill and a willing steed.
Alone with my thoughts I am actually more efficient. Think of a bloodhound versus a bird dog.
A bloodhound goes from point A to B to C, never skipping a point. Which is what the handlers want, but is also slow.
A bird dog sniffs the wind and makes intuitive leaps towards the source of the scent. Not being tied to a “process” or a “data machine” the prize is secured more quickly.
irondad: I like the bird dog/bloodhound analogy. Making intuitive leaps are what I’m often searching for and need time to prepare for. They don’t happen out of thin air.
Thanks for posting your thoughts. They’re helpful.