A Bright Light
A faint wisp of steam rises from a mug next to my easy chair in the living room as I watch large snowflakes descend from the heavens. The aroma of cinnamon toast fills my head as I wonder why winter has been such a burden. Despite efforts to blame it on pandemic uncertainty, rising prices at the pump and grocery store, or a raging war in Ukraine, I can’t quite help but think I’m merely suffering the effects of age on my body, mind, and spirit.
While I don’t feel it’s universal, it is common, and I can easily enumerate a list of changes that have no other explanation. I’m powerless to change some of them, but others are absolutely within my arena of action.
Two days ago it felt like a warm spring day as I went for an afternoon ride with my friend Paul. The sky was clear, the sun bright in my face, and a breeze seeming to clear away any gloomy energy hanging in the valley. It was a good ride. I was a good day.
Fading Snow
It’s strange how a ride on a scooter or motorcycle can dim, or even erase temporarily, the thoughts and memories that fuel the sort of winter distress I’ve been feeling. Everything gives way to the rolling moments and motion through the world on two, motorized wheels. And when I stop to make a photograph, I can feel the sudden silence in my ears and in my body. A stillness so appealing that I can barely move for fear of chasing it away.
Powerless
The world is a big place. An honest assessment reveals how little I understand and how powerless I am beyond that small arena of action in which I inhabit. I can take care of myself. I can be kind and empathic. I can accept and forgive the missteps and transgressions of others. I can look in the mirror and acknowledge there is plenty to fix with that guy before I look toward fixing others.
I can’t remember what I was like before I started to ride. And what I do remember is subject to the continual reinvention of memories each time I reach back for one. What I do know is riding has softened my view of the world.
Reclaiming Indoors
Only recently have I felt comfortable venturing indoors with strangers. And that journey is laden with conscious and subconscious accounting and math regarding risk. Part real, part fictitious, completely of my own volition, I sat down in the Inglebean Cafe with Paul to venture a snack during a break in the ride.
Simultaneously if felt natural and dangerous. And then it faded into a comfortable normalcy I remember from some distant past. Hot tea and a chocolate chip cookie, staples of my entire adult life.
Small Towns and Motorcycles
I’m glad big cities are hours away. I cling to an idea that doom and chaos live in those places, leaving the small towns and villages I ride through untouched. The motorcycle as a vehicle of escape is strongly imprinted in my brain, honed through books and movies, TV shows and recurring fantasies I carry through life.
Standing on the sidewalk looking at the Himalayan, I believe I can go anywhere.
Fable and Myth
Into the driveway, silencing the motorcycle, and sitting for a moment before dismounting I feel my senses are alive. I’m glowing inside. My head is clear. Breathing steady. I’m alone, independent, and simply alive. The myth and fable of motorcycles come true.
That evening snow began to fall and by morning there was six inches of fresh snow. Then the temperature dropped and the wind started to blow. But as I sit here now, looking out at more snow falling, all I remember is that warm day on a motorcycle.
I am so happy for you—that a simple ride on a nice day can do so much for you. Stay warm and well.
I’m still impressed after all these years of riding scooters and motorcycles that I find a great measure of serenity.
Regarding your photo “sensing my place in the world”: That’s cool. The photo of the guy and the sky it works like that. I know you did that on purpose. The fellow in the photo (that’s me by the way) has all that open sky above him, and it’s easy to see he’s sensing his place in the world. Paul
Maybe we’re reading too much into the photograph…
I can’t remember a time before motorcycles either. You see, my Dad rode and had a motorcycle shop. i passengered on his Triumph from before kindergarten. My brother and I did our pre-motorcycling on our bicycles. We didn’t pedal so much as were the engines, sometimes making engine sounds as we rode. Before we were old enough to get licenses we entered field meets and raced in the dirt. Since the weather and salted roads keep me indoors Winter feels like it takes a part of me away that is who I am. I took one of the bikes into the local shop today. The ride is was restoring.
You’ve had a longer and richer experience with riding and motorcycles than I have had. But like you, I did have a lot of bicycle experiences as a kid with nods toward motorcycles. Balloons tied to the front to simulate motorcycle sounds, or baseball cards held on with a clothespin. And the rich kids had one of those Mattel “engines” that clamped to the frame and sounded like a motor.
The riding fantasy started early!
I got out for a few of those warm days in Ohio too! I also wonder why I’ve always looked at motorcycles and imagined I had more freedom with them as compared to cars, which are really a lot more practical for any long distance travel. One makes me smile a whole lot more, not sure why.
I haven’t figured that out yet either Mike. And I’ve thought about it a lot. Cars are definitely more practical in almost every case around here since parking isn’t an issue. Something I need to explore a bit more I guess.
It was a warm day yesterday and I went for a ride. That’s a good day.