Will this finally be the year.....

....I go without a motorcycle? Every year, since 1983, I've ridden many, many miles on one of the four bikes I've owned. Twenty three different states, two provinces of Canada and over 150,000 miles have passed under my wheels.  Now, for the first time, in some sort of reverse midlife crisis, I'm seriously considering selling, and not replacing, my bike.

When most guys hit my age, they run out, buy a V-Twin Compensator, start dressing like one of the Village People and hanging out in front of the rib joint thinking: "We bad....we bad....".  Guess I'm not most guys. Does this mean I need a Corvette and a 20-something blonde named Bambi instead? Gold chains? A Rolex?

For over twenty years, my life pretty much revolved around my bikes. Vacations were planned around rallies, my friends were other bikers, my social life was deeply intertwined with the bike club. Weekends were spent on the road. The first ride of spring was almost a religious experience. It wasn't just something I did, it was a big part of who I was. (Indicative of my struggle with this was whether to use the word "was" or "am" in that sentence...).

So what the hell is my problem? What happened?

• Is it because I've "been there, done that"?
  

After 20+ years riding, it's a valid question. I never, ever thought I'd get tired of riding. I saw people drift away from the sport and thought: "How sad - I'll never do that", but there are very few places within a day's ride that I haven't been at least once. So what's a bike without a place to ride it? (Unless of course it's just a "prop" for you to pose on, which leads us to....)

• Is it because "it used to be about motorcycling, now it's a ^%@!# fashion show"? 
  

I attended the Americade motorcycle rally in Lake George every year from 1984 right on up through 2005, when I finally gave up. It's become a textbook example of the turn toward "image" that the sport has taken. It used to be about the ride.  It's gotten so bad that we were threatening to go there wearing shirts that said "Trailercade" in mockery of the fact that more and more people don't even ride there. Phony anything leaves a bad taste in my mouth, so yeah, that's probably got something to do with it.

• Is it because of the one time I went pavement surfing?
  

I think this is probably the biggest reason - my mileage took a major nosedive after my minor accident. Still, that was ten years ago, and I've continued to ride - admittedly not with the confidence I once had, though. I no longer throw sparks off both sides of my GoldWing. Felt like someone sucked all the joy out of riding for me.

• Is it because I no longer need that "escape pod"?
  

I think this is the second biggest factor. One of my favorite things to do was to get on the bike and just wander. ("I think I'll take the third left I come to..."). I would lose myself, both literally and figuratively. Hours and hours were passed that way. The further my marriage sank under it's own weight, the more miles I put on.  I was running....just to run, I guess.  These words from Steve Earle hit me right between the eyes when I first heard them:

You see it used to be I was really free 

I didn't need no gasoline to run 

Before you could say "Jack Kerouac" you'd turn your back and I'd be gone 

Yeah nowadays I got me two good wheels and I seek refuge in aluminum and steel 

Aw, it takes me out there for just a little while 

And the years fall away with every mile

 

(The Other Kind - Steve Earle)

Mile after mile was devoured in an attempt to dislodge the clouds around me. Sometimes I succeeded, at least for a little while.

Those days are behind me now, so I no longer need that "refuge in aluminum and steel". I still enjoy riding far more than driving, but for the most part now, a motor vehicle has become just another appliance, another tool, to do a job with the least fuss possible.

On and off, I've toyed with selling it or selling it and buying something different. A sport bike? A sport touring bike? A new 'Wing? Last year, I half-heartedly tried to sell the bike - I told a couple of people I knew were interested what I wanted for it, but I never pursued it (and neither did they) - so I rode it. The slight boost in gas mileage was probably as much a reason as any. 

Still, it's paid for....and I don't have to make my mind up until April or so when the insurance is due....

If there's one thing that's remained constant...

...throughout my life, it's been music.

My earliest experiences with listening to music, were, of course, the stuff my parents listened to - mostly my dad. My earliest influences were apparently the most profound: 40+ years later their love of folk music, like Peter Paul and Mary still colors my musical taste. All I need to hear is an acoustic guitar, and it gets my immediate attention. Many of my current favorites are the musical descendants of those 60's folk groups. James McMurtry is a prime example, right down to the message:


Their love of Irish music - stuff like the Clancy Brothers- still resonates with me today, apparent in my love of bands like Flogging Molly and The Pogues:
THEN:


"NOW":



I was fortunate in my earliest musical explorations to have an older sister. She helped save me from the clutches of the soulless crap that passed for the pop music of the day - Cheez Whiz like The Partridge Family, Bobby Sherman, The Osmonds and The Jackson Five. She led me astray with the stuff she was listening to - Grand Funk Railroad, Humble Pie, Black Sabbath and Savoy Brown. This led me to an epiphany in fifth grade... Our class was having a party, so I ran home to get some music. (I lived close enough to the school and this was before schools were locked down like Alcatraz). I brought in some of my sister's stuff and was very, very disappointed when it just sat there, and the OTHER crap got played. What was WRONG with people? This was great stuff! Why were they ignoring it? I realized that there was some great stuff out there that wasn't getting listened to- because people were just friggin' SHEEP! The stuff on the radio wasn't necessarily the best stuff out there. If I wanted "the good stuff" I was going to have to dig a little.

My mom, of course hated all of it, (Ok - The Moody Blues and Crosby Stills and Nash she could tolerate) so the only time we could really listen was when she wasn't home. Any time my parents went out or my mom was at work, we had the record player out and the music blasting. (Well, whatever it was that passed for "blasting", back when dinosaurs roamed the earth).

About the time I was 12 or 13 my sister began dating a guy who had -hold your breath- an 8 track player in his car! I used to sit in his car for hours on end listening to "Demons & Wizards" by Uriah Heep, "Diamond Dogs" by David Bowie and, most frequently and importantly, "Dark Side of the Moon" by Pink Floyd. I must have listened to those bass notes at the beginning of "Time" a billion times. (I'm sure "little brother" hanging around was a pain in the ass, but dammit, I was hooked...)

Eventually, my sister moved out and took her music collection with her - a blow, but not fatal, because I had my own embryonic collection by then. I also had a few of my own "sources" by then, inlcuding my friend Alvin from New York City. When he came up to visit, he brought fireworks, but also -more importantly- "fresh" music.

Some kids memorized sports teams and stats - me I pored over album liner notes and memorized who was in the bands, who wrote what, who played what.... Often, it paid off - when a band split up or someone was off on a solo project, I was all over it.

We had a "cool" music teacher in 7th grade. He strayed from his classical roots a little and listened to stuff like Emerson Lake and Palmer. One day, when he was finished with his lesson for the day, he showed us a bunch of new albums he'd just bought and asked us if there was anything anyone would like to hear. The rest of the class was mute but I said "THAT one..." and pointed to "Dark Side of the Moon". We listened to what we had time for, then went to our next class. (In my senior year of high school - six years later !-, a girl came up to me and said "Do you remember when you had Mr. Wright play that album back in Jr. High? You were right about that!" YYYEEES! )

I had a portable reel-to-reel tape player that I hooked onto the sissy bar on my bike so I could take my music with me. (I smile today when I think of that 12"x 8"x 2" behemoth versus my iPod....)

About this time, my dad bought a car that had FM RADIO! I had no idea what it was all about, but was surfing up and down the dial (there were about three FM stations back then) and all of a sudden, I heard it - "Snowblind" by Black Sabbath. HOLY CRAP! There are radio stations that PLAY THIS STUFF???? I was stunned. W.O.U.R, a fledgling station on the "new" FM band actually played "album rock" - not the same tripe the AM stations were playing, not the "edited down to three minute" versions of songs and not just the "singles". The DJ's actually got to pick their own stuff and were very, very good at it. They would play three songs and then tell you who they were. My catalog grew exponentially. (Sadly, W.O.U.R eventually became Clear Channel Corporate Whores).

My deep involvement with music became apparent in my appearance, as well. My standard "uniform" was jeans or cutoff jeans and t-shirts with rock bands on them. Now, I realize that doesn't sound all that radical, but at the time I was the only one in my small town who did such things. I had to mail order the shirts from some outfit I found in the back of Hit Parader. My hair got longer and longer. Headphones offered the means to listen at home without annoying my mother. Friends began asking me to recommend music to them, and DJ their parties.

Over the years, I went through my Heavy Metal phase, my Southern Rock phase, my blues phase, my "New Wave" phase, my "Progressive" phase, but music remained very much in the forefront of my life. I was always on the lookout for new music. When I started driving, a stereo was of prime importance. When the Walkman made it's debut, I was an early adopter. When I started motorcycling, a stereo was a much desired accessory. I started exchanging "mix" tapes with friends via the Postal service. (I didn't get into the music video scene very much, because "back in the day" they charged extra for MTV, and after watching the same three videos over and over when they let you have it for free sampling I decided it wasn't worth it).

To this day I'm always still on the hunt for new music. Despite the virtual smörgåsbord of music available on the Internet, it's still a challenge to separate the wheat from the chaff, especially since I've gotten a little jaded. It's out there, and when I find something really special, it moves me every bit as much as it did back in the days of 8-tracks.

I Promised Myself....

...that I would never discuss religion, politics or red- headed women on here, but this rant over at Angela's Ashtray got me thinkin'... What I came up with, in response (at 4AM TYVM!) was too long winded to post as a reply, so I'm doing it here.

Religion is not evil. PEOPLE can be evil, and can use religion for less-than-virtuous purposes, but it is not inherently evil. One could say the same thing about science. Science has brought us evil, horrible weapons, but has also freed people from the pain and suffering of horrible diseases. Just as the same folks who brought us the Inquisition, the Crusades, centuries of violence in Northern Ireland and the Middle East and people like Jim Jones, religion has also provided a moral compass and brought hope and comfort to millions in times of need. As with any source of power, some people use that power for the wrong reasons. It can be used motivate people to give of themselves and help those less fortunate or motivate people to fly airplanes into buildings.

Like Angela, I've struggled with the concept of religion. At worst, I saw it as a means of control over people. At best I thought it unnecessary.

My upbringing was "Ambivalent Catholic". My parents felt that I needed some sort of religious foundation, so I was indoctrinated in the Catholic faith (because that's how they were brought up). After I'd made my Confirmation, it was pretty much left up to me what path I would follow.

Good thing, too. The Catholic faith and I were NOT a good fit. MCMAWG has an independent streak a mile wide and a mile deep. Nothing gets my Irish/Italian hackles up quicker than to be told to do something and not question it "because I/we say so". I also bristled at the inequality I saw inherent in the Catholic Church. According to them, God only talks to men.

The whole concept of an angry God who was waiting to smite your ass if you strayed just didn't sit well with me, either.

Years later, I ran across the painting "The Laughing Jesus" and it knocked me for a loop. (A quick Google couldn't find the right one, but for those who've never seen it, it's just a head-and-shoulders painting of Jesus letting out a big belly laugh). I was stunned. It called into question everything Sister Mary Discipline tried to beat into me. It seemed so.... blasphemous, yet there was something just so right about it. Part of me said "...dude, that's just so wrong..." but part of me said "YES"!

Over the years I drifted further from religion. "Man needs religion like a fish needs a bicycle" was a frequent quote. The hypocrisy of self-righteous TV preachers who turn out to be guilty of exactly what they were railing at other people about, didn't set well with me. (Hypocrisy being ANOTHER thing that gets MCMAWG's hackles up).  At best I've been a "Mildly Curious Bhuddist".

Most of what I saw of religion was select groups of people saying "We're right. Our Way Is The Only Way. Our God Is The Only God".    This led all too often to "Our God Can Beat Up Your God".  Far, far too often, it seems like people's motivation for following the straight and narrow is either wanting to cash in on "the Big Reward" or fear of "The Lake of Fire". I've often said "Show me an atheist who lives a good life and I'll show you a truly righteous person - they're not doing it for the WIFM, they're doing it solely because it's the right thing to do". 

Media reports of child molesters hiding behind the church, genocide in places like Bosnia, nutcases like Jim Jones, David Koresh leading trusting people to hell in a handbasket... didn't help either.

But, a couple of months ago, I ran across something  in the catbox liner that passes for a local newspaper. I was blown away. An article about a man who's  living his faith. Quietly, and without accolades. Here's a man who's giving himself to help others in need - others who are not even of his own "race", country or religion; many of whom are "sinners" in the eyes of the church. If that weren't enough, I noticed that, despite the fact that he's surrounded by death and unspeakable suffering, he's laughing or smiling in most of the pictures. 

If you can read this without rethinking religion a bit, if you can read it without a tear or three, if you can read it without feeling selfish and like something you'd scrape off your shoe, then you have no soul.