“You do not need a therapist if you own a motorcycle, any kind of motorcycle!” Dan Ackroyd
I don’t know exactly when I linked the motorcycle with my nascent writing effort. Too many years in marketing, knee jerked me into thinking of a name for this blog I wanted to do, without having any idea what it would end up looking like. The name, mind and the motorcycle, automatically led me to a visual with a Zen look for a motorcycle, the motor replaced by the mind.
By the time I wanted to do this blog, nearly eight years ago, the motorcycle had already captivated my spirit, leaving me wordless. Any effort to describe my umbilical connection to the ride, on those occasions when you briefly visit total perfection, is the secret that all bikers share. When it is right, you explode inside, a sensory and emotional joy ride.
I was riding for a number of years here, before I dared think about writing. I had become part of a community of riders, helping me immeasurably to find my footing on this island, coupled with a quiet respect for those people, who are joined to this place by the blood of generations.
As some of you may know, I started this whole writing business on Halloween night 2011, when I began a memoir for my grandson. It was like diving into the deep end of a pool, having not taken a single swimming lesson. One night led to the next, one story carried over into the next day. I organized my life history in ways I thought would make sense for the book, without making it into a predictable, unimaginative and boring diatribe.
I religiously worked on this project for a solid year and a half. If something popped into my head, no matter where or when, I’d scribble it down somewhere, working on it later that day. I probably behaved just like a writer writing a book!
I fell in love with the process, if you can call writing that. I am always thinking about what I want to write in these stories. Last Sunday, the Sons of Kauai rode to the west side. We had a good size group at the 7/11, across from McDonalds in Lihue. It was a perfect, Kauai motorcycle day. You could feel it in the air and everyone there knew it, but you don’t talk about it, because that’s not what riding a motorcycle is all about.
I don’t usually think about writing about riding and that’s not why I made up the name and logo for my blog. You know, you can’t live every moment of your life like you just climbed Mt. Everest, exploding inside at the magnitude of your accomplishment. You can ride your bike and certainly enjoy it, but there are those special moments when you disappear into the ride itself.
I was definitely in the zone last weekend and I knew I’d use that experience to come up with a story a week later. I didn’t think for a minute my recollection would drift off into the mist of memory. I’m telling you, you can have moments on a bike that just grab hold of your heart, hijacking your senses, totally inhabiting the moment. You don’t forget them.
I scribbled some notes from last week, something I have never done. It was about the music that punctuated the experience, helping to make it unforgettable, when I recounted it to you.
We were just about to get started going up to First Lookout, from the Waimea side. I always make sure I have my music working for this ride, because it was made for it. Just as I am settling in for the ride up, Rhapsody in Blue gently flows through the speakers. If you love music, it doesn’t matter what it is, it’s the love you feel. This particular piece of music freezes me in my tracks, no matter where I am, no matter what I am doing. I am certain music is the intergalactic language.
It was such a wonderful soundtrack for my ride up the mountain. I wouldn’t have the audacity to ever ask the Gods of Pandora to play a particular piece, but if I did, it would always be this Gershwin musical masterpiece. I couldn’t believe it was going to keep me company on my ride.
Very often, when I ride down from Kokee, my music decides not to work. Honestly, I am not sure why, because I suck at all things technological. Here I am, wondering what sounds will accompany me down the hill and all I got is silence.
After a while, I thought the silence was perfect, keeping the introspection going strong. I was definitely thinking about having to find a way to write down this experience. I was totally at ease with the quiet and then, out of nowhere, Strawberry Fields decided to join me on the ride.
It made a very soft landing for me. I was so happy to hear this song, after the internalized quiet of the ride down. Listening to it, made me think I should try and share one more time, what it’s like to ride a bike and here we are.
You know, I was pretty much done for the day and then Pandora decided to thrust Nina Simone in my face, actually my ears. I had never heard this recitation before and it is called Are You Ready, lifted from The Summer of Soul, a fabulous film recorded at the Harlem Cultural Festival in 1969. Find this damn film and donate to two hours to joy and inspiration.
Ms. Simone’s tone is a no nonsense call to be who you are and to stand tall.There was such power in her words. It pointed me right here, right now, to be with you
I guess all of us, no matter where the hell we are, ought to have that privilege of feeling we are whole, even for a minute. At it’s best, the motorcycle experience makes us riders feel like we own the road, in control of our destiny. These transitory moments defy definition, they are meant to be experienced, a wordless witness, an immaculate testament to the joy of life.