Moto thoughts

July 25, 2010

It’s Saturday night. Fireworks roar in the distance as well as the Metal Fest going on. Today was gray. Rain threatening. I took it easy all morning then took the bike for its 3000 miles or so oil change. Remi the mechanic did the deed. Remi’s nickname is “Dieu” (God) because he is just brilliant at mechanics. Cars, bikes, electrical, mechanical, bodywork, paint, he can do it all. His dad and his grand father were mechanics, he was bred into the trade and he IS it.

I pulled into his driveway and he just had a small tool kit and went to work. All of it done easily and confidently. Oil, brakes, and a zillion questions from me. He was generous enough to indulge me with all the answers. I love the bike thing.

He has his own baby, a Suzuki GSXR 750, can’t remember what year. He brought it out to do an oil change on that bike as well since he was doing mine.

He offered me to try it. I was a bit awed, no, actually I was very much awed because this is the bike I was secretly dreaming of getting next but my riding friends would all tell me to get a 600, you know because I’m a girl, get something small…

This bike seemed so big… the whole front end looks like it’s twice as big as my bike. With a bigger, higher tank, spoilers, wind shield and the handlebars are lower too.

I sat on it. Wow…
I thought it would be too high with my maximum height of 5’4inches and 3/4… but I was surprised to see that it was actually about the same height as my Suzuki.

He said : “Start it” I did. Wow…
It’s a quieter sound but somehow much bigger. A growl, slightly ominous, dangerous. Wow…
I took off really gently. It’s got all this “wanna go” in there. It’s tight, powerful, precise. Wow…

Remi's Suzuki GSXR 750 that I tried...

I did not go very far or very fast. In my world, these things need to be respected and get to be known on a gradient. But I can see that I would like this. We could get close. Wow…

Back to reality, the bad news is that I need yet another front tire, I ‘ve had a shimmer in the front end that I didn’t like and that I’ve been noticing since going down a mountain in Virginia . Sometimes it gives a quick, short, mean little sort of twist that I don’t like either. I guess I did put 5000 miles on that tire. Hard to even conceive of that distance…

I wish I could solve my head like I can solve the bike stuff : throw money at it!

Being here in Montreal has been intense for my head. After rambling all over the continent without any sort of “reality” for almost 2 months I get here and folks have halters, bridles or plain rope that they’d like to put over my head. Bring me into the barn for the night, you know, for my safety. I buck and I want to bolt.

Is it so important? Maybe no. Maybe so.

Maybe it is the same everywhere. I just did not stay long enough anywhere on the road to feel the ties . Threads. Leashes. They turn into weave and fabric. Costumes, uniforms. Duty, roles and whole lives.

I ask myself what is real, what is the way, what is my way. Which way would I get the most out of this life? What is left of it. Which way would I be able to create the most and the best, music, sculpture. Which way would I contribute the most to the world? Which way is the joy to be found?

If I took all the mis-emotions out of this equation, what would be left true and standing? What would have the most substance?

For me hitting the Eastern part of the continent was like leaving the West or crossing the Continental Divide : destabilizing.

I guess it’s like when you are balancing to two wheels. You can balance beautifully for a few short seconds at a standstill. Then you must decide : it’s either you stop and put a foot down or you rev up and move forward otherwise the whole thing comes crashing down.

Tomorrow I’ll be revving up and moving forward again. Heading yet again East but it’s for a really good reason. I’ll get to spend a bit of time with my sister. We don’t see each other much. When we do it’s really special.

Oh my beautiful motorcycle. Take me, I’ll take you. We’ll take each other all over this land. Sometimes I think of the life of a motorcycle. This one in particular… Was left in a dark garage… tinkered with here and there but ultimately left immobile among the rusted bicyles, the garden tools, the unwanted junk and the spiders and their webs.

If a motorcycle has a motorcycle heart it will want to be out on the roads of this world for which it was designed. To be fast, furious, proud, roaring, to give it all. So I figure this bike is so grateful to have been given that chance… A second chance, just like me. Out of the dank garage. Out on the world. So it is giving me everything it’s steel heart has. So we keep going… The Gods are with us.

I love my bike…

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