I've always had a love affair with motorcycles. I had Evel Knievel toys as a kid, I remember some psychedelic chopper children's book I used to check out of my elementary school library repeatedly (I've searched repeatedly for that book but have been unable to find it with such little clues) I watched "easy rider" as a teenager and fantasized of the rebellious freedom. In high school I read Robert M. Pirsig's "zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance" and it literally changed my internal wiring. I've read a trio of books more than three times each in my life. Pirsig's "zen..." Tolkien's "lord of the rings" (I count it as one book.) and Herman Hesse's "steppenwolf". Those three books have resonated with me over and over. I discovered the band #steppenwolf while watching "easy rider", it wasn't for a few years I discovered the book the stole their name from. I bought a cassette of "16 hits" in high school smack dab in my heavy metal phase. I was also into Pink Floyd's "the wall" at that time. There was something hesher-historic about the band (they did coin the phrase "heavy metal thunder") and I really loved the collection of songs. When I finally started riding motorcycles I found "born to be wild" was consistently my inner-soundtrack. I realise how cliche that is. I'm not ashamed of it. My love of motorcycles is a conundrum for me: I realise how dangerous they are. My father was killed on one. My wife works as a nurse in the er of a hospital. She was fearful every summer seeing the parade of maimed motorcyclists. I gave mine up because it became an issue to ride with my obligations to my small children and storage of beloved metal steed. I long for another bike. When the kids are older I'll get another. The warmer months are painful for me. Hearing bikes and seeing them on open country roads calls to me like a siren. I can't wait to have that steppenwolf song stuck in my head again as I use all of my senses to navigate and manipulate another bike.
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