Passing the torch? Teaching the younglings? work in progress

Today was a red-letter day. Not the kind of "Your account is past-due, please pay us now" kind of red-letter day, but rather, parenting done right kind of day. Since 2012, I have been making a pilgrimage of sorts to the Vancouver Motorcycle Show, in the Abbotsford Tradex. I have gone by myself, with friends, and now this year, with my son. Let me regale you how this came about....

The Motorcycle Show is a welcome break in a long winter. To a biker, winter is an unfriendly, unholy penalty for having too much fun in summer. Thus, winter takes on an extra unpleasantness. I have not found anything that replaces, or even soothes the loss I feel when my bike becomes parked due to snow or lack of insurance. Taking a 4 hour bus ride through treacherous mountainous passes just to rub your genitals on motorcycles that hundreds before you have rubbed their genitals and warmed the seats on, seems like a reasonable trade, to relieve the misery of winter.

Last year, I may have said to Evan, "One year, I will take you to the show" and he took that to mean, "This year we are going to the Motorcycle show!" and it's a good thing we did!  Turns out, the bus trip is less and less attended every year, and the proprietors of the bus are considering cancelling the program after this year. We bounced out of bed bright and shiny at before 6 am, ready for a big adventure in the city. I had my apprehensions, bringing mini-me to an environment that pushes my tolerances to their breaking point, but we went anyway. Good learning opportunity for the lad, I reasoned, seeing his dad freak out on some dumbass that stopped in a walkway to gawk at something shiny.

My apprehensions, though totally valid, were unfounded, as Evan ran through the show like a nut-starved squirrel seeing an oak forest for the first time. All the manufacturers lifting their skirts and showing their wares, with a grizzled dad offering opinions on many of the bikes on display.  The highlight for Evan by far was the Yamaha Young Riders Academy, where kids can get suited up in proper riding gear, taught by the famous Clinton Smout, and set free on little blue Yamaha's, to careen around and fully embrace a junkie's addiction to the two wheeled sport. Now I need to figure out a way to buy a truck and utility trailer, to haul the dirt bikes we need to buy, out to the trails.

The Perfect Motorcycle

What is the perfect motorcycle? How long is a piece of string? What secret chord did David play to please the Lord? (borrowed from Leonard Cohen there) I have ridden many different motorcycles over the years, and like a woman, each has its beauty. In many ways, comparing a motorcycle to a woman is a good analogy: a curvy barmaid who’s up for anything; a sophisticated redhead whose business attire does not reveal the tiger print just below her skirt. A motorcycle should thrill the rider; it is designed that way. I’ve heard it said that if you can walk away from your motorcycle after you park it, and not look back to admire it, you have bought the wrong motorcycle. 

And yet, the quality that makes one cycle attractive is also its flaw. Riding that curvy Italian sport bike, you assume a position similar to sex, but like sex, it is not meant to go for hours, despite what Sting says. That brash, tattooed American cruiser, so loud in the tunnels and on the open road, loses her voice when pavement turns to gravel. The Goldwing that can be ridden like a living room recliner from coast to coast, resembles a motorhome in its shape and demeanor. The plastic wrapped universal motorcycle, with its cowled body panels and bright colours, inevitably promises more than it delivers. 

With a motorcycle, you fall in love in an instant. A sound, a feeling, a position, a look or a lifestyle accessory, attraction to a motorcycle is not gradual; it is primal.  A motorcycle does not grow like fungus on a toenail on its rider; it either captures your imagination or it doesn’t. It promises freedom, excitement, escape, or reputation, all within its metal curves. My motorcycle promises long range, incredibly long range with no fuel anxiety. Smooth performance. Understated sophistication, like confidence walking into a bar. The confidence of not competing with anyone else for the prize; it is knowing that there is no prize, there is only life.

It doesn’t promise a smooth ride, floating over life’s ripples without notice. It promises to experience the road, to feel it on its own terms. It is the Tao, the Way. It is meditation, mixed with desire. 

And then you realize you have the perfect motorcycle.

The inevitable tragedy

Dear reader, It has been too long since I have written. And indeed, I have no idea if anyone actually reads my blog. No matter. Today's post is dedicated to Robin Williams. An actor I have admired since 1989 when I convinced my parents to give me a ride to town to watch Dead Poets Society in the movie theater in Williams Lake. For years, I wanted a tattoo that said Carpe Diem! And that in itself is significant. How does one profess to a philosophy of Carpe Diem, then pine away, wishing for the courage to tattoo Carpe Diem on your arm? That dichotomy will be another post, someday. I was affected deeply by Robin Williams passing. I haven't told anyone this, but I felt deep sadness when I read he died, as though a friend had passed away. I could relate to Robin Williams; he was an approachable human being. He struggled mightily in this world. He was gifted. He was talented. And most importantly, he was humble. I believe that the world has lost a great human being. The world today is hard. Polarization of opinions lead people to loudly proclaim, I am right, and if you do not agree, you must be an idiot! It saddens me to read of Gene Simmons comments to go ahead and jump, if you are struggling with depression. Yes, he tried to retract and clarify them, after it embarrassed him, but Jesus man! Don't you have a filter that stops you from saying that? Study the Tao - I recommend it for anyone. Study it, and you will be aware that one of the four cardinal virtues of Taoism is to have reverence for all life. Another is to embody the virtue of Gentleness. What do you gain by slagging and criticizing someone who has given up? What do you reap with that hard attitude? It is far better to try to understand the profound decision he came to, rather than criticizing him for it. Gene, would you say that in front of his children? Or in front of your children? I was out recently talking to someone, and asked if he had heard about Robin Williams. He replied that he was an IDIOT in life, and now he is an IDIOT in death, and an IDIOT for eternity. Well, I disagree. Perhaps if all you watch is Fox News, and you haven't thought for yourself since the nineties, that might be true, but really? There is no call to negate this mans whole career to make talking points at a BBQ. What are my thoughts on this? Do they matter? Well, no, they don't, because this was his struggle - not ours, not mine, and not yours. On the day he died, I went and watched "The Fisher King" one of my all time favorite movies, and celebrated the vanquishing of the Red Knight and the quest for the Holy Grail. It is still, and will always be, one of my favorite movies. I believe he was a great human being. I believe he struggled mightily with depression, one of the most misunderstood ailments out there. As much as I would love to believe you can cure yourself with positive thoughts, I don't think it is true. You can only dampen the pain that you feel. And for someone like Robin Williams, who had highs and lows like mountain peaks and valleys, it was not enough. Why judge him now? You only reveal yourself to be of slight character. If anyone out there still reads my blog, realize this: Everyone is fighting their own battle, and it is unbenkownst to you. Give them the freedom to do so. And if someone succumbs to their demons, do not jump all over them for it. It demeans you more than it demeans them. Their struggle is over, but yours is continuing. Better to look to yourself, to your own hate, and ask, Where did that come from? And How did I get to this point? Those questions will reap better answers than the approach you took. -30-

Everything is exactly the way it has to be. It cannot be any different.

I am continually astounded at how life works, how it is a serendipitous blend of coincidence, fate and the law of attraction at work. I don't believe in luck; I believe you bring it with you. Let me take the dear reader down a path now, a series of events that are too fantastical to dream up. I bought a motorcycle recently, a 1997 BMW F650 with next to no miles on it. Immediately, I fell in love with riding it, as I feel like I am riding a swiss army knife of capabilities, only limited by my own skill at keeping the shiny side up. Gravel? No problem. Commuting? Easy-peasy. Sunday ride? Comfortable. Touring? Hmm, can someone tour on an F650? We'll see. I needed an oil change, as the previous owner couldn't tell me when the last time it was changed, so I began researching my options. An F650 is a little more complicated than just undoing a plug and watching it pour out - there is oil in the frame that must come out too, by taking off panels and hoses and working uncomfortably close to hot exhaust pipes. At least, that is my impression of the process. I opted to take it to Bentley Motorrad, as they had a wonderful sale on. As I waited the hour or so that it takes to change oil, the salesman commented to me that someone had ridden my exact bike around the globe, and written a book about it, to boot! This was instantly interesting to me, and I looked at the book several times before reluctantly putting it down and buying a baseball cap, instead. I rode home and thought that I must look for this book sometime. The book is by Rene Cormier, and is titled "The University of Gravel Roads - Global Lessons from a four year motorcycle adventure" and I highly recommend it to anyone who likes to dream of the road less travelled. Fast forward one week. I'm at work, and someone needs a passport photo taken. I take his membership card, and saw the same name as the book I'd been looking at a week earlier. I asked if he was the same guy that wrote the adventure travel book, and he was flabbergasted that I recognized him. I was then flabbergasted that I was in the presence of someone who had proven that I just bought the best motorcycle ever made, and my mind raced madly to ask him intelligent questions about the bike. Sadly, I left my mind in neutral, so it spun madly but made no traction. In a blinding flash of inspired action, I asked if he would be interested in having coffee the next morning and we could discuss bikes, travel and some of the more interesting aspects of riding. He agreed, and the next day spent an hour talking shop. When I look back at how serendipitous that whole meeting was, I cannot believe it was chance. Chance is finding a twenty on the ground. In order for that meeting to take place, I had to have a) bought a BMW F650; b) needed an oil change at the same time that Bentley had such a wonderful sale, that I didn't want to bother to change it myself; found myself with an hour to spare in the store where the book was located; not to mention all the events that led up to him needing a passport photo, coming to our office and having no other agents available to help. Chance? I don't think so. Law of Attraction? I leave it to the reader to decide. I will end this post with a photo of my handlebars, with one of my favorite sayings on it.

Of compassion and sharing

Last night, Evan and I were getting ready for one of Evan's greatest pleasures: watching cartoons in Daddy's office. I prepared a wonderful snack for this grand affair: slices of pear, and a nice bowl of raisins. While we were watching cartoons, as he sat in Daddy's office chair and eating pears and raisins, Evan looked at me sitting on a wooden box beside him. Without saying a word, he reached into his bowl and passed me a little handful of raisins. Then he went back to eating raisins and watching Max and Ruby.

A simple story, yet I promise you, dear reader, that it occurred exactly as I described it.

The importance of music cannot be understated in society. When I see world news, when I see Gaddafi using cigar sized bullets on his own citizens, when I read about lying Canadian politicians, the only thing that pulls me back is music. Its too much. The soul cannot take so much deception.

I thank God for music, for visionaries like Tom Cochrane, Tim Williams, Tom Waits, Gordie Johnson, Leonard Cohen, Mike Plume, and Chris Rea. For having the strength to create music to lift the spirits of those who listen. For having the creativity to enlighten us with a message you want to send. Whether you sing about the Alberta oilpatch, a baseball player and Marilyn Monroe, a picture in a frame, or an Inn, you have brightened my existence in such a profound way, I don't know how to thank you.

But let me just say, Thank you.

Happy Hallowe'en

To all the other superheroes out there...