Road Thoughts

I was thinking the other day that I think too much. A lot of analysis, consideration, pondering, wondering, musing and thoughts. I also think too much thinking can’t be good. For example yesterday while riding up to Jackson’s Point and back with an old friend we passed a farm with an old motorcycle out front. This bike looked as though it hadn’t seen the road in years. Propped up by a flag pole the machine looked like a drunk latched on to something...ANYTHING to keep from falling off the planet.

When I make contact with something like this my mind immediately spools up into this whole back story on the bike prior to the point where it now rests. Sometime back in the seventies someone was very excited about this brand new machine. Very likely they’d didn’t sleep much the night before their first ride. They were very likely envied as they proudly rolled down the street as neighbours looked on at the brilliant chrome and gleaming new paint. I wonder if the kids on the block lined up for a ride on the back?

A few years pass and things change. The bike finds itself, through no fault of it’s own, at the end of the driveway with a cheap plastic “FOR SALE” sign slung around it’s headlight. After a while a younger person spots the bike and relights the wick. The cycle begins again as someone new carves out their own stories as they learn about the magic of a motorcycle. This goes on and on most likely as life moves along.

As the old motorcycle hangs on to the cold metal flag pole I wonder if its spirit still flickers inside cylinders. (Yes, I think these machines have spirits). I wonder if it sits quietly staring at the road with memories of better times. I think about how it longs to see the open road and the rolling hills around here. I consider its envy of the Vstrom as we effortlessly zip past with only a glance. Maybe it’s simply enjoying retirement and is grateful for the life it had and is perfectly happy to see the younger ones take on the challenge. I wonder what it would say if it could talk and the stories it might share.

In all likelihood it’s nothing more than a pile of steel, aluminum, plastic and rubber. Perhaps its simply a broken machine.

Personally, I like my idea more. I think I’ll keep thinking.