Facebook vs. Helmet Time

Frankly, trying to make a decision while reading Facebook posts and comments is a terrible idea and could be a disastrous influence. For Facebook, not only wants to get in our minds, it was recently announced they were using posts and comments to influence emotions of users. Now, I’m all for social research, but that just doesn’t seem right. I have a better solution for decision making—helmet time.

Helmet time? Yes, helmet time. What is that you ask? Well, helmet time occurs during a motorcycle ride and the helmet does double duty as your “thinking cap.” It can be very productive, and it’s safe because you’re wearing the proper gear including a helmet. You won’t be answering the phone or texting. It’s just you, the road, and the thoughts in your head, and empty roads can be some of the most productive places.

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For some time now, I have been struggling with my motorcycling efforts. I have wavered back and forth between selling what I have and buying a second bike. The bike at the top of that list is a new Kawasaki KLR 650. I’ve always wanted one.

Within the past couple of weeks, I have gone to the dealer to buy one. The first time I went, the one sitting on the floor had just been sold. The second time I started out, I was riding the V-Strom, and the farther I rode on this fine motor bike, the more I questioned why I would want anything else. I even had a check in my billfold. That’s how close it was. I never arrived at the dealer. Of course, I shared this with my wife, and she suggested I wait a week or so to see if it’s really what I want to do—buy another bike. It’s been two weeks, and I have been perusing through all the KLR 650 Riders Group posts, photos and comments on Facebook.

This morning, I put a fresh blank check in my billfold, and headed up the highway on my trusty V-Strom towards the dealer. The smoothness of the bike, the effortless pull of the engine, the knowledge that this bike truly gets 60+ miles-per-gallon. It has taken me everywhere I wanted to go—without issues and without worry about whether or not it will get me home.

Eastward I ride, thinking about this motorcycle and how it meets all my needs, and the “thinking cap” starts its process … again. My conclusion—again—why would I want to ride anything else. Where would another motor bike take me that this one can’t?

Just east of Morrow, Ohio, on Route 22/3, I reach the intersection of SR 123. To continue towards the dealer is straight ahead…. I turn south to follow more twisty roads before turning back towards home.

I put the blank check back in the checkbook, and I pull up my Facebook account to delete one or two motorcycle groups that were wasting my time and my more important helmet time.

See you on the highway.

Brent

1st ride of 2014

Last year was a disappointment in mileage on the motorcycle. So, I thought it would be a good idea to get a good start in 2014. Is January 1 early enough?

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See you on the highway.

Brent

Soul searching on a motorcycle

“The unexamined life is not worth living,” Socrates.

“Whatever you do, wait a week before making any big decisions” my wife, Lin, said. “I don’t want you making a decision now and then regret it next spring.”

People often ask me what I listen to when I am on a motorcycle tour. My answer has always been the same, “Nothing. I ride only with the thoughts in my head.” Some would consider that dangerous. My wife can spot when something is on my mind while I’m driving the car. I will have a concentrated look and I’ll have my left arm resting on the door with my index finger up to my lips. In my mind, I am solving some kind of problem or planning or revisiting a decision or …. On the motorcycle, there is no visible clue, and if there were, there is no one to see it.

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Chimney Rock, Nebraska. The Oregon Trail from Kansas City to Portland, Oregon, was only a portion of the 19-day, 6,000-mile journey on the 2008 Suzuki V-Strom DL650.

My travels have always been solo. I prefer to ride alone because it increases the opportunity to engage people in conversations on the road, just like the soldier, farmer and cop of my most recent tour. But riding alone, there is a big piece of me missing, her name is Lin. We are great travel companions, but the motorcycle is not for her. We accept that. I often find myself on the road thinking, ‘I wish Lin were here.’ And likewise, she is thinking, “I wish Brent were home.’

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“Oh the joy. Pacific in view.” The words Captain William Clark wrote in his journal, Nov. 7, 1805, upon seeing the Pacific Ocean. Two hundred years later, Lin and I visited the Pacific Coast during the 200th Anniversary of the Lewis and Clark Expedition. We arrived Nov. 7, 2005.

This latest tour was the hardest one on me. Rain five days out of six. Heat. Charged by a pit bull. Stung by something below my eye while riding 70 mph on the Interstate in traffic. I was miserable and kept asking myself, ‘What am I doing out here?’ THAT became the focus of my soul searching. Yes, I was filling in my states. Why? For what purpose? Was that all?

Last year, after completing my Oregon Trail ride, I returned home and said, ‘I don’t know if I am going to do any more long distance riding.’ After this ride, I returned home and said, “I’m not going to do this anymore. I want to be doing something else.” I even said I was going to sell the motorcycle. Something was missing, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

For the past couple of years I have been looking for something else to ride—a second bike. I began to think that I was tired of the V-Strom and wanted something different. What I have really been looking for is a different experience, not a different ride. I want to do something else, something more meaningful and fulfilling than riding a motorcycle around the country.

Having sat on this post for quite some time, pondering whether to push the “publish” button or not, the reason—that thing that seemed to be missing—came to me. What I discovered: I have lost the joy in motorcycling. It seems to have disappeared and been replaced by defensive caution while riding, constantly looking into vehicles approaching intersections or passing me, to see if drivers are on their cell phones or looking down texting. How can I see the magnificent landscapes or architecture, the farms and environment when I am looking into cars and trucks to see what the drivers are doing? Are they distracted?

Diagnosis: It’s all in my head. I am riding with my own thoughts.

Prescription: Somehow regain the joy of motorcycling. As my Grandpa would say, when I was bucked off the horse, “Get back on that horse, Brent.” And then, he would laugh. I can still hear that distinct laugh. I have always gotten back on the horse.

Still, there is that one unanswered question, “What am I doing out here?”

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Sunrise in SW Ohio.

Many days, I am blessed to watch an incredible sunrise from my kitchen or office window. It is an amazing way to start a day watching something as magnificent as the sunrise, to see the glorious colors and feel alive. To feel God’s presence and love as a new day begins. Yes, I am blessed. To find my soul mate, Lin, has been my greatest blessing and reward. Our 27 years of marriage seems like only a few. Lin is my best friend, confidant and rock. She keeps me grounded and provides wise counsel, and has managed to say the right thing when I have consulted her looking for answers. It also works the other way around. We are a team. We are partners. We are one. And, we often look for answers together.

Soul searching is universal. Have you ever asked, ‘Who am I? Where did I come from? Where am I going?’ Why am I here?’ It is that last question that may be the most important. Why are we here. Why am I here? THAT is the question. I am revisiting that question for the umpteenth time, and even if I do find the joy again, motorcycling is not the answer.

I am looking for purpose and meaning. That is the next adventure, the next sojourn.

Brent

 

 

Motorcycle Tenkara

MC-Tenkara

The waters of Caesar Creek Gorge called my name
and the siren call was too much to bear.

The motorcycle waiting patiently in the garage called my name
and the siren call was too much to bear.

Which call should I listen to?
Which leisurely activity will win this battle?

“Both,” I said.
And so I gave in to the siren calls.

Brent