Going That way... Nope This way... That way... Oh Look... is That Another Road?

The Bike finally sold a few days ago__and let it be said; I am completely and totally ambivalent about this choice__I haven't a clue whether I'm comin' or goin'...

Somehow I knew it was time for "Things" to change. The whispering in my head was a genuine pita.

Only problem is__ I hadn't really a clue what exactly that "change" looked like. Still don't! I mean all sorts of things have been tumbling in my head. Tumbling so much that they were confused and fleeting in a murky haze.

Finally, more out of frustration than anything else I just reached out and set a grip on one of the visions when it momentarily appeared in the fog... Pretty much I had to do Something, even if it was wrong, just to break the inertia and get some movement.

I've read that; "The mind is like water, when it's agitated it's hard to see... but when it is calm it becomes clear and you can see easily"

Yeah... I get that for sure and for certain. The "water" inside of my head is most often like the inside of a blender clicked on High.

Been so long since I could see clear that I'd probably mistake it for somebody Else's dream and pass on by if it ever did happen.

I'm letting things just settle for a while... and see what comes. Too often I think maybe I've tried to force things that shouldn't be forced and ended up with square pegs wedged tight into round holes.

Turned an unplanned direction a few days after the Raider left__ and stumbled across a guy...

His name is Arlo. He's a 9 week old Australian Shepherd pup from the ISDR registry. That's where they were carried before the AKC got ahold of the breed and begun to mucking it up like it's done to so many others...

The ISDR is where the Real Aussies are found.

Well... when this guy looked at me and that lil' voice deep inside looked into those eyes it whispered; don't be a jackass. do.not.leave.this.guy.behind.

So he's sharing camp with me these days. Softens the loneliness that a solo camp becomes.

Maybe this guy will herd me back into the sunlight that seems to have faded.

We shall hope and see__ and find out where exactly the future road runs.

Brian

I know... It's Been Months...

It's been a difficult fall and winter. I've been in a "place" in my head that's not what you'd call a good place and not real inspiring to write about...

I came to a place where there was a gnawing inside that I couldn't ignore any longer. I've felt it for a few years, slowly growing... but honestly... didn't truly recognize the source.

It starts and ends with me.

I'm a gypsy in more ways than one. Much interests me... but there's a problem there. Spread yourself in too many directions, and nada gets done. You run in circles with nothing being accomplished.

Well... spinning those circles I came to realize there were... are... parts of me I just can't leave behind. But also in this world, there's only so much of each of us to go around... and it's "THAT"... that I've been stewing over for months.

Which part of me at this late place in life do I focus on? Which part of me is the greater part? I have to cull out the lesser bits to focus on the greater... or lose it all...

Now... I'm a rider right? But what kind? Motorcycle? or Horse?

I've rode both the greater part of my life (Made my living horseback)... but the past six years... there've been no horses. It was THAT absence... that has been gnawing at my innards. Turns out to have been a wrong trail I turned down.

Motorcycles get inside you... Horses... even deeper. It rapidly goes back to that "If I have to explain it to you - You won't understand" bit of wisdom.

There's not enough of me to go around... so I have to choose. Where does my greatest passion lay?

... I have discovered... that it lays with Horses and so Back to Horse... is where I'm going.

To that end, I put my Raider up for sale way back in December... when I got back into Arizona for the winter... I was hoping that like, ripping a bandage off FAST to get the pain over with quick... it would sell fast.

It didn't... it Hasn't. and this turmoil in my head gets drug out week after week... month after month.

I've run ads online since before christmas. I'd not be so perplexed if people looked at the bike and decided against it... but I've had zero calls. That's as in... None. Not one... ugh! Not a soul has looked at the scooter... makes it real difficult to sell it.

That was an eventuality I'd not expected.

I can't mark it off to I've got her priced too high. It's been the lowest for that bike on craigslist by near $2000.

Guys say well keep it... and do both... To which I say; Re-read the parts above where I talk about "Only so much of me to go around." ... I can't spread my loyalties around like that I've discovered... It runs 'em too thin to give proper attention to either.

...or at this point... my finances... and I need the cash she represents to go the way I've chosen...

And deep inside me... I NEED to get back to Horse...

... and this lil' bit of purgatory drags on.

Brian

P.S. If you should know anybody interested in an '08 Yamaha Raider with 38,000 on the clock and a few extras for $6000... send 'em my way...

How Do You Tell If You're Getting Lost?

When you look around and you don't recognize YOU.

The stagnation of this stationary life that circumstance has gotten me mired in the past few months... has me that-a-way. I feel lost. I can't but feel like I'm just waiting... and there's NOTHING here to wait for. Time is long past to be going...

The hardest thing for those that aren't is to understand the hunger that drives a rover.

There's those that travel and even travel full time that think of themselves with that moniker. They are wrong. They might do it full time for a few years; or off and on for a lifetime... but traveling is not Roving.

Those folks go to see this or they go to see that... and then... they go Home. They might "RV" full time for three, four...maybe five years... but then... They Go Home. They settle in again.

I'm not denigrating them or their way of going when I say; "They are not Rovers." Let's be clear. They are fine but that's not being a Rover. They are simply people who go from here to there and back again from time to time and fully enjoy it.

However... A true Rover... a wanderer... lives from a completely different perspective with a completely different need. He has no intention of getting "There". He's not trying to "Get" anywhere. For the Rover... there is nowhere to "Get"... He's already there. He only needs to be moving.

As a bird needs the sky and a fish needs the river... a Rover has a visceral, genetic hunger for the road. It is a need that drives his soul.

He doesn't seek anything. That is not and never was his goal. It takes a lot of Drifters many years to realize that themselves. They keep asking; "What am I doing? What am looking for?"

They are taught by soh-sigh-uh-tee that they are somehow faulty and their way is a weakness. It takes many years before the realization finally shines in their hearts... "I'm not wrong. I'm not weak. I'm not trying to "DO" anything. I'm not trying to collect anything. I'm just Being. I'm just me."

To quote Gus... "Just a man... free on the earth."

It is the Going that feeds the soul of a Drifter. It's not seeing some place that drives him. It is but the simplicity of the movement itself, the change. The Freedom. ROVING is the Stuff that sustains his soul.

In this society, to be "approved"... you must show yourself to be "productive". You must demonstrate tangible creation for dollar spent. You must be profitable to "IT" the society to be measured a "Good" person.

A Rover has no need for any of that judgmental nonsense.

A rover I will always be

I need the wind in my face

The sun on my back

A throttle in my hand

A big V-Twin rumbling under me

Two tires singing on asphalt

And the Horizon... racing on ahead of me

Simply put, a Rover knows that the place where he belongs, where his Spirit is in rhythm with the universe is out there... along some lonely road... following the paint stripes of a Ribbon of Asphalt.

When he is there... His spirit glows warm with the sure and certain knowledge...

~ I am home ~

Not new words for me... but words that continue to echo in my head.

Grab Your Handles and Ride

Brian

The Two Hour Job...

That's goin' on two weeks! ha ha ha... Yup... those seals and such are maybe two hours for a "trained professional"... and I'm bumping up on a couple of multiples of that.

Buuuuuut... got a call yesterday afternoon and my bushings are in... so I'll bump along today and see how close I can get to putting her back together!

I can't say I'll have saved any dinero... considering the tools I've bought to do this work... but I am kinda happy to be honest that I'm doing it for other reasons. Somehow I think it's a benefit to have been in there, and know better how things work... and just to refresh the memory that I can still get it done when needed.

... and that kinda gets a guy to thinking 'bout other things.

I wrote on my "other" blog/site that I'm now of that age where folks often make veiled and not so veiled comments that it's time for the "old guy" to start slowing down... "You're too old to be doin' things like that any more..."

Just the thinking of that sentiment... let alone the voicing of it makes my liver quiver. My response is generally something like; "YOU are too old to live maybe... but ME? I'm only too old... when I'm DEAD!"

You ever hear or see anything about this Ol' gal? Gloria is 89 years young. Still twisting the throttle and still hangin' it in the wind.

That's my goal now... and I've got better than a quarter of a century to pass her record by!

Grab Your Handles and Ride
Brian

She May Have to Ride on the Truck Between Camps... But... A Trailer Queen She Ain't!

 I Believe People Think; "That Boy is Brain Damaged"

A biker has a choice. He/she can ride, paying little attention to the weather, or you can lose those days.

You can sit inside waiting for those sunny days... or you can just ride and take what comes...
 

*Consequence of forgotten rain gear*

If you do plan on taking what comes... I'd suggest you don't ride off and forget your rain gear... after pulling it from a saddle bag while you were rewiring your charging dock... Bwahahahahaha...

I remember pulling into the hardware I used to toil at. The thermometer on the sign board would be flashing 10 degrees as I pulled off my helmet and balaclava walking inside. The cashier would always just look at me and shake her head.

Me? I'd be grinning. I was ALIVE!

I don't care to ride in those temps any more... but... I've no idea why... rain makes me goofy.

Yesterday I rolled though the downpour... and music was swingin' through my head, helmet bobbin' to the rhythm. 

I glanced at the dad and soccer mom in their mini van as I passed, the water just pourin' off me and the bike... the look on their faces said it all; "No wonder this country is goin' to hell! So many people are NUTS!" ... Bwahahahahaha.

Some riders lay out big $$$ for exquisite paint and acres of chrome...

I've thought about it. Thought how cool it would be to ride one of those "show" bikes...

... and then thought about all the sleep I'd lose what with the work to clean and polish all that fancy four times a day...

Nah... for me... the finish I prefer, that fits this rider is the patina of miles. I'll wash off the grime once in a while when I pass a carwash...

... but worryin' any length of time 'bout bugs, dirt and rain splatter... well... that's just a waste of time.

Clean it all off and twelve miles down the road it'll all be right back on there... unless a fella leaves the bike parked under an awning waiting on a sunny day...

Screw that... I'll just remember the rain gear next time ;)

Grab Your Handles and Ride
Brian

Dark Clouds Threatening... or ...

The clouds hung low shrouding the front range. A few drops of rain splattered on my helmet. I wondered if I was going to get wet.

I was only riding a few miles into town in search of a switch. As I wait for a new Yamaha tail rack to arrive, so I can install it on the back rest, I was working on re-installing my electronics charging power dock.

I had a single "Lighter socket" power point before. This time, when I reinstalled the repaired and modified saddle bags I decided to do a better and upgraded setup. I was about to fix the new socket in place when I realized it had a power indicator light. That hadn't been noticed before.

One little led won't draw much power. Maybe a .1 or an amp or less? ... but... 24/7 that would not be a good thing... So... I decided I needed to back up and wire in a switch to kill power to the unit when un-needed/wanted, and when the bike is parked... So I was riding to find that switch.

The days have been pretty slow and frustrating lately. Down hard with the flu... my next book stalled from that and a lethargy in my writing muscle... it's just been some of that "meh" kind of a time.

So I rolled along chewing over all that frustrates. Words came to me from many places that scolded me for being "down"... bleh... just all noise...my thoughts wandered off into the distance and I just rolled...

... and that's when it struck me; not like a hard attention getting slap, not like a gong ringing in my ears... just one of those simple, quiet revelations... I had very nearly sold his moment. That's what selling the bike would have been... selling all the moments like this one... for a few transient dollars.

I was smiling... looking at those low hanging clouds and thinking... without words...

Not an ear to ear, giggling, wicked happy sort of belly laughing grin... just that easy, soft, subtle upturn of the corners of your mouth when... you're just riding easy. When all is calm and quiet and Right.

One of those moments when all the troubles and useless trivia of this life fade away and you are just in the place you belong and there are no doubts or questions... A moment when priorities come clear and you just see and hear and breathe... and your heart slides along content.

And I thanked the Boss for that moment... and suggested that a few more of 'em from time to time would be much appreciated... and the bike just rumbled along

Grab Your Handles and Ride
Brian

A Wanderer and a Drifter

I've been wandering for the last four years... hell... that's really a lie... I've drifted since I was 14. I started wandering the Arizona desert then... Can't say as I've ever really stopped since.

Crossed the oceans... lost count of the miles...

I often think of setting up in a place that I find that's nice... even stop on occasion and start digging post holes... but soon... the sound of a truck up on the highway, or the lonesome wail of a train across the valley, the rumble of  V-twin, starts that gnawing itch to roam working all over again.

My way isn't one that many can tolerate. Most need a "place" and a "home". Hell, the happiest I've been I was in a tent.

For me it's not about trying to get somewhere either. Actually, I don't like getting "There". What gnaws at me is the insatiable hunger to just keep moving.

There are those that call it a sickness... no Eagle would agree.

The thing about drifting and wandering is... keeping your nose in the wind and smelling the sweet scent of that special freedom that only a rover knows.

Last night, after a fine day of progress on several projects I was sitting outside, the first evening in a good while without a heilatious wind roaring in the trees, and sipping on a bottle of Tommy Knocker Brewery's finest... listening to my ipod... Bob Seeger... and just soaking up the space around me. It was a cloudy sky...

Suddenly... the sun broke through just before it settled behind the high peaks of the front range... Everything was lit in a golden hue... It was as if the Boss himself had set the world to glowing.

Right at that moment... a Bald Eagle sailed over the house I'm parked beside. My rig hides in a wind break that has protected that house for over a hundred years.

That Eagle soared just over the Top of that tree... He was lit in glittering gold by the setting sun and soared over me, against the wind, for long seconds before finally disappearing behind the windbreak behind me... An awesome sight.

What's that got to do with anything?

This. It's the sweet flavor of life...

Recently I stepped off the path that I've known was the right path for me... for a long time... I stepped off for the purpose of pursuing dollars... a fools mistake... and honestly... it ate a hole in me.

Not only that, I was going to sell one of my great joys... for what? a few thousand dollars that would what? hep me... maybe... make some more?...

There's one damned word for that... STUPID.

I've been working on refitting Sonja after a few years of lots of miles and deferred maintenance, planning on selling... and it's come to me... in the last weeks as I polished her wheels, got the pipes refinished, sanded the saddle bags, buffed the tarnished fins on the jugs... that... I just can not sell her.

It makes no sense to sell off parts of yourself... in pursuit of subsistence. You'd just end up with lots of groceries... for a guy that wasn't there any more.

No idea how I'm gonna get where I need to go... Only know it won't be by selling off precious bits of my self.

Grab Your Handles and Ride
Brian

I've Ridden Many Saddles...

The first was a fifteen year old kid cowboyin' back on the Arizona Desert... on a bay horse named Joker...

 Chasin' genuine wild cows in the Santa Rita Mountains south of Tucson...

...I grew up with memories of old hands and places that are gone now...

... buried under asphalt, concrete and rooftops.

I started ridin' bikes then too... rippin' through that same desert.

Horseback or standing on the pegs... that kid was free and wild as the wind.

There's many a day I miss the guts that kid had.

He ran off to do his duty... and got caught in the blender of life in a society that eats its young.

Like many he spun in circles trying to find his way... trying to be that person he was told he was "expected" to be... and most times failing.

... and always... looking on that person he was "Expected" to be... with disgust. All he could see in that image was a trained and beaten down monkey.

Along came a different sort of saddle to straddle... on that different sort of horse...

Cutting the wind on that he once again began to feel some of that freedom he'd known.

He could feel some of that wild wind again in his thinning (ok gone) hair...

But always... in his heart and his mind lived the memory of those horses on those sunny slopes of the west in his soul.

Now the mysteries of life have come full circle...

...I Never Sold My Saddle...

I rode that saddle through thundering hail storms and twenty below blizzards. I roasted in it and got mud bogged on it. That saddle has memories tattooed on my soul...

...Life never seems to give up. It works 24/7 to beat you into submission. 

Thing is... the only thing you get when you try to whup a Cowboy... is one hell of a fight.

I still have no real sliver of an idea where I'm goin' or how I'll get there...

I just keep on Saddlin' my Horses and ridin' my circles...

When I ride my last circle... I'll be where I'm goin'...

Grab Your Handles and Ride

Brian

Keep it Between the Ditches

It's been said that;

Sometimes you find yourself in the middle of nowhere...

and sometimes...

In the middle of no where... you find Your Self.

... and sometimes... I believe we wander around wondering; What in the F5#@% am I doin'?

Things... I've railed a bunch about things. Maybe too much. All about not letting them rule me... own me.

But now something has occurred to me, think about it... What if... the "problem" isn't THINGS... what if... the PROBLEM... is ME?

Think about this a minute...

If you (I) go the other way and spend  a lot of time, working, watching, guarding against and double checking all in the effort to make sure that we don't get ruled and owned by Things... so as to protect our Freedom...

... uh huh... we get ruled by those same damn Things once again...

Only this time, life gets' burned up worryin' about ensuring the Non-possession of those same damned things! It gets to bordering on Nuts! and our Freedom leaks out like water from a rusty bucket.

It's all about extremes... Like a motor... Too hot; Bad. Run too cold; Bad. Somewhere in the middle is the operating range.

So, in search of the holy grail of answers... People talk about seeking "Balance" in life. Like a "Balanced" eco system. Only problem with that is, such balance exists only in Disneyesque fairy tales.

There is no Balance in nature. No such thing. Nature is a world of violent extremes.

Things swing from overpopulation to catastrophic population crashes. Calmly grazing deer to the savagery of a wolf's assault. Sunshine to blizzards. Droughts to Floods. Feast to famine. Overgrown forest to burned out grasslands.

Life for a biker is flush to broke. Healthy to sick. Standing up to laying in a ditch. Employed to unemployed. Rolling down the road to stuck with a broken machine. Fueled up to out of gas. New tires to bald. One extreme to the other.

When you're riding through what appears to be a time of calm and serenity... You're only in that valley between the extremes.

So, there is no balance. Control is only a fantasy. Yet somewhere when it comes to the issues of life and things... I believe there still exists an answer. I think somewhere between the unattainable fantasy of rigid control... and the wild gyrations of total chaos is the possibility of following a sustainable road.

Like one of those snowboarders in a halfpipe... back and forth up one side and turn back before the extreme... and back down and up the other side. Over and over testing the limits but staying in that sustainable Operating range.

Rather than seeking control, rather than achieving the unachievable "Balance" I see things as a pendulum. You can't stop it. It swings irresistibly back and forth into the foggy far distant future. The trick is to get into that rhythm and go with it.

Like I wrote about the weather in Alaska. You can fight it and lose, or you can embrace it, equip for it and go with it. Learn to love it as a piece of life... and just swing along with the pendulum.

You can't stop it... but maybe you can influence it. You can teach yourself to function within the established rhythm.

Maybe if we learn to keep a low key, subconscious eye on the world around us... kind of an underlying situational awareness... we can get ourselves to seeing that pendulum starting to swing  too far... starting to gain a lil' too much momentum or force... Whether that be in the actual world around us... or in the world between our ears... and do it without the phobic life darkening extremes.

... If we can apply a touch of friction to slow it down... coax it slowly back into that calm, sustainable rhythm, before it starts breaking things; if we can pull it back into a cadence that is within our ability to keep step... we can avoid twisting our livers into knots.. and keep the scooter between the ditches.

Kind of an abstract thought that occurs on occasion when I get a mite too close to the bottom of a beer bottle... I hope I'm right... I'm kinda weary of untying knots.

Grab Your Handles and Ride
Brian 

Thinking and Pondering

"If you always do what you always did

You'll always get what you always got"

Someone once asked me; "Why do you always insist on taking the hard road?"

I replied; 

"Why do you assume I see two roads?"

As the sun set on another day... a lot of those old sayings rattled through my head in an unending kaleidoscope...

This day saw the transmission in the truck cratering... or mostly so. 5th gear blew out...

Parked out in the high desert is not a place to repair broken transmissions, and for a lot of reasons, I can't just take the old rig to a shop and leave the house here... So, tomorrow morning, I'll hitch up and with fingers crossed, I'll do my best to limp the 60 miles or so to lower altitude (with a failing tranny) and closer proximity to the repair shops and services.

Remember the old cartoons... where the guy is running on a treadmill or train track or some such... and some drooling, firebelching "Thing" is chasing him? It's right on his tail. He can feel it's breath on his neck...but he just keeps running straight ahead? 

And you holler at the screen; "Jump OFF! Jump OFF!" but he can't, because he's not got the time or space to take even the slightest step to the side. Though he'd like to he can't just step aside and let the beast just rush on by, even if he DID have the time to THINK of another way?

That's just exactly the world I feel like I've lived most of my life in. There never seems to be a period of time long enough to catch my breath and work things out in my head (let alone the economic side of life). I just keep running against the wind, doing things I don't necessarily want to do... because I can't corral enough "Time" (spelled; time and cash)... to work out a better way.

That is I'd bet... the toughest hole to climb out of... for people that feel like they're in a hole; Finding even the peace and serenity... in big enough pieces... to allow themselves to think straight.

... and even when they do... if they do... when they come back from that "Place" it's like the world knows what they're up to, so it whacks 'em with ever greater coldness and rapidity... The spirit takes a beating.

Even the times I've stacked up enough cash to "build that window of time"... one missed step and it all went cascading down the drain like sand through your fingers... arrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggghhhhhhhhh.

It becomes pretty much the paradox of having to harden your heart to give yourself the time to open it up. The trouble with that being; Once a Heart is Armored... Softening it again is a double tough chore.

There's only one thing a fella can do; Cowboy Up. Put one foot in front of the other and keep on keepin' on... until he can find that faint little trail that leads to sunny slopes. (how's that for stringin' a half dozen cliche'd phrases into one idea?)

Like watching the sunset that started off this post... you know there will always be another sunrise. You just have to somehow, find the material to maintain hope... for me... keeping it in the wind nurtures that hope.

Grab Your Handles and Ride
Brian

He Wants to Escape... As If That Were a Bad Thing

Roll me Away ... A song that still touches my soul... forty years later.

 ...I've been told that climbing on a bike and Riding Away is Escapism...

The lies told about Escape could fill a book... They're all based on one, single, false, accusation. "He's a Quitter." ... "He's a weakling, he's got no guts."

"You just want to escape" is a slur thrown as an accusation of weakness of character meant to humiliate the poor bastard into submission; "You're trying to escape from Your responsibilities. You only want to escape from reality, You made choices and now you're only trying to escape from the consequences..."

Well DUH! Of course he is!  Reality often sucks, and eventually, even a strong man comes to learn that Running Against the Wind is an exercise in Futility. The wind always wins.

... There are all sorts of variations. The sad thing is most people are so un-thinking they just routinely accept the propagandized slur as bad. As long as it's the party line (and it's that "party line" that's the main problem)... the actual actions of the person involved, and their motivations, are never weighed.

All that's remembered is; "He quit. I've got no use for a quitter."

Context is NEVER part of the process... The "Bunch Quitter" is simply demonized. The man who "stays the course" ... though it eats his liver and soul, is Immortalized as the hero...

... while the one who had the spleen to wave good bye and step off into the unknown to find his joy is ridiculed as the fool by those timid souls left behind...

Seriously?

A person finds themselves living in a situation that one way or another is abusive, emotionally, physically or spiritually; Of COURSE they want to escape!

If you're in a building on fire, is ESCAPE not the sensible thing? If you are in a relationship; business, personal or otherwise, that is consuming the essence of you, consuming your spirit and joy... and fighting to make it work ~ has failed, time after time ~ is ESCAPE not the reasonable action?

If you're slaving at a job that injects an aching dread into your guts, that is sucking the life out of your soul, each and every morning as you approach the front door... is ESCAPE from that servitude not the self preserving action you SHOULD TAKE?

If you are a prisoner held against your will, no matter how long it's taken for that Will to come to be, is not ESCAPE the natural, healthy goal of any Creature?

If you've made choices along the road of life, which subsequently turned out to be very, very wrong for you; not evil, not abusive, not morally wrong... simply misguided, bad judgements based on missed perceptions or the misleading, misinformation provided to you...

...if after a good long while and heavy effort to "Tough it out and make those choices work" the clarity of their wrongness for you was made un-deniable;

If after all of that came clear to you... Wouldn't it be foolish to sustain the consequences of those choices in place, simply because you once made them? Simply because others disagree? (and isn't THAT, the imposed opinions of others, generally THE problem in the first place?)

Isn't it wrong to NOT take action to infuse a light into your life, rather than ESCAPE from the consequences of those wrong decisions and START OVER?

That old cliched saying comes to mind; "If you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is STOP DIGGING."

Escape. More often than not, IS the adult, honorable and Right Choice.
It's Never too late to try again...

Grab Your Handles and Ride
Brian

ATGATT... Reasonable Care? or Unreasonable Fear?

Well, this rant isn't all about atgatt... It's a convoluted and fuzzy rambling about... surety and how the foolish quest for that, ruins the life that IS surely here.

There's but one thing that's for sure and for certain in this life... Death.

I am weary to the bone of all the people droning on and on and on about do this safe or that safe... BE SAFE!

Ahhhhh... I wouldn't pay a nickle for a pound of Safe... I'm weary of that anemic idea because it's all mostly baloney built on a base of unrealistic fear in the first place.

No matter how much care you take, how religiously you eat your vegetables, no matter how skilled the Doctor or how well your preacher has the ear of God... You my friend... are going to Die.

As long as I can remember I've been propagandized with the idea, in one form or another, to always turn away at risk. Avoid it like the plague. Only foolish people take risks. Risk takers are some sort of whack job.

The reality is, nothing happens without RISK. Adventure is RISK. Excitement can't happen... without RISK.

The reality is, that psychotic, trained in fear of all the things that could go wrong... is surrendering to cowardice under the color of reasonable care.

Life is a dreary and grey place... absent of RISK.

Now... listen up... I'm saying RISK... not STUPIDITY. Accepting Risk doesn't mean ignoring  common sense. It means weighing the benefits, playing the odds and having confidence in your abilities...

OF course... if you believe you can outrun that grizzly after you poke that ugly basket thief in the butt with your sharp stick... I've got my video camera warmed up and focused...

***a bit of a sideline*** just to say it... the base source of this malicious idea of "safety" is our "Leadership". The leaders of Society don't want excited, adventurous spirits taking risks. They want obedient, quiet, productive serfs laboring in safe and reasonable pursuits. (adventurous people are difficult to control) They want those laboring, fearful masses working for them... so THEY the leadership can go out and adventure, sky dive, climb mountains, TAKE RISKS and enjoy LIFE while the rest of us support them***

I've allowed too much of my life to be stolen by that never ending droning about all the dangers of this life and their avoidance; this toxin, that seat belt, red meat, safe sex, crap in the water, crap n the air, speeding, drinking, smoking, running with a fork in your hand, bucking horses, saving money, mercury fillings, genetically modified food, cancer from your cell phone, flu shots, colon cancer, calm down you'll get a heart attack... blah blah blah...

Ugh... I Vow... more people have died from the worry piled on 'em about what might could kill 'em... than from any of those multitude of options that in the end don't matter... 'cause in the end we all end up in the same place...

... The belly of a worm burping and rubbing his stomach; "Damn! That was one good Biker!"

But even worse; While you sit around waiting to die... because once all the risks are seen and avoided... there isn't a hell of a lot left to do but read a book about Somebody Foolish Going out and LIVING... while YOU wait for the worm ... LIFE passes you by.

The thing is this... take  bit of care here and there. Don't be stupid... unless stupidity wiggles your bean. If straddling your bike geared up like a science fiction warrior is what captures your imagination... do that.

If putting it in the wind bare headed and bikini clad is your thing... do that.

Just own it. Accept the consequences of your Choice... and don't judge others for theirs. (or, think you have the right to judge... or impose YOUR values)

The thing is... live while there's living to be done. Live a Class A life while you're living.

Would you rather live one GREAT 30 year movie? or... sit through the agony of 67 years of the worst, dullest, most agonizingly moronic home movies kodak ever created? Think about it...

Grab Your Handles and Ride
Brian

Southern Migration

It's coming. I know it. Winter is pushing its way south and I retreat before it. Our Beet Harvest Job in Montana is done and I've moved as far as Denver.

With a week visiting my Grandbabies near done... the urge to be moving on is strong. Weather is coming later this week but I won't wait on it. Maybe I'll get out ahead of it... maybe have to push through it... But I'll go. The desert and the work I have waiting there this winter is calling.

Work. The world demands its pound of flesh and I am not immune to that so produce I must. My good fortune is, almost blindly, I stumbled into that sort of situation where I get to do, for a living, what is a joy in itself.

Now, I still have a lot of work to do to bring it up to where it needs to be. My writing is not yet fully sufficient or reliable. (income wise) It sits in that tantalizing place of being juuuuust outside those bright lights of prosperity. ;)

For me prosperity is not riches. It's waking up in the morning, owning my life. Having some groceries in the cupboard, a little jingle in my pocket, the lack of crushing debts and the prospect of more of the Work that feeds my soul to keep me going.

I use the word WORK not job. A Job is just shoveling horse poop... WORK is the Art that feeds the spirit. Whether that be painting, writing, architecting, mechanicing, cowboying ... for some, Waitressing does that.

Whatever WORK feeds your soul, you chase that. You hone that craft to the sharpest edge you can put on it.

This winter that honing will be done brushed up out on the Arizona desert. I've a couple of Large Projects planned. Two novels are to be written one to add to each series. They're outlined and just sit waiting my arrival in the sunny south. Camped out amongst the creosote bushes and Paloverde trees... I'll immerse myself in them.

Sunny days, pots of coffee, miles of knees in the wind to clear my thinking when I hit a literary tangle ;) ... and come the spring, a fresh new pair of fabrications of terminological inexactitude from the twisted mind of a cowboy biker to keep the momentum of my publishing empire rolling. 

Keeping it in the Wind
Brian
 

Just Me... the Bike... and the Road

In the dust that surrounds the life of a person trying to reach for something higher... there's a confusion that's been trained in since birth.

Much of the confusion is a diversion that's centered around Things. Those are what is used to focus your attention so that you don't see the world swiping your life.

But, most of the "Things" in this world carry a questionable value. They weigh a man down.

Smartphones, laptops, GPS's, Camera's, Credit Cards, Gizmo's that track every inch of your travels... furniture, crap on the walls, Tools you never use, clothes you never wear. Junk that you pay to store. It lays stored in dusty boxes that haven't been opened in years. Bills, commitments... people pulling, pushing, poking, prodding you to go where you're told... where you don't want to go... cursing and bullying if you refuse... the list itself could fill a saddlebag...

... Things... Yech. The urge to just swing a leg over the saddle and ride off from it... is hard to resist.

On top of that pile of Things... are the people. The two are often inexorably combined. One uses the other as tools of control. One is USED by the system to use and herd the other as a tool of ITS control. It gets kind of tangled... but if you're awake... you can cut through that dust cloud... you can sort it all out and find your way.

But beware and understand... Go in with your eyes open. You won't get through it unmarked. If you choose to make a stand, If you choose to fight against the wind for Your Life... You are triggering a shit storm like none you've ever seen.

My escape from all that storm is my ride. Out there on that ribbon that stretches to the horizon, there's only one soul that can control that motorcycle. The stupid games and deceitful machinations of the morons behind me... fade away. There is just the heat and the rumble under me, the sun on my face and the fresh wind in my nostrils.

I ride for me. Yes... It IS all about me. This isn't "Your" life I'm fighting my way through, it is MINE.

I have no right to judge your life, and I don't, other than to decide if your way suits me. If following your lead is the way I want to go... and I won't tolerate my life being judged in any manner other than that.

I don't put my hands on other people. I don't manipulate, make false promises or intend to deceive. Perfection I am far from. Failure I know often. But when I do fail I own it. I correct it and I work to only make new mistakes, not repeat the old.

I have found that Honor and wisdom do not come from those who have led pristine lives. Those who are most honorable are generally those who failed that ideal some time past, and NEVER want to feel that way again. They don't judge others, only themselves.

But judging is what this world and most of those around you do first thing... isn't it. I don't say that as a question, but as a statement. They judge and then they set about herding you in the direction they "Know" is for your own good. Irrespective of how wrong, arrogant and improper their self serving actions are.

"You Owe Me"... is a deliberately abused epithet thrown like a spear to skewer the heart of a person who still holds to tenets of Honor, Integrity and Respect. It's their best qualities turned on them like a weapon.

I've paid my debts. I owe no one... except for those few, rare friends that have given to me, as I have given to them... with zero thoughts of reward or compensation. To them I owe Honor, Integrity, Respect. They earned it. For the rest... there are no words.

That makes me a selfish bastard to many. So be it. I'll wear that coat. I AM a selfish bastard. Does that make the accusers feel better? Who cares? Those people are incomplete. They are missing critical pieces... by choice.

I choose to put my nose in the wind, let it blow the dust of incomplete snivelers off my leathers... and ride... Just me... the Bike... and the Road.

~ Brian

Running Against the Wind...

Plans... you climb on life and lay it out. You pencil in all the stops and turns, fill the tank, put the key in the ignition... and roll...

... and then reality comes sliding in to T-bone your ass while you were looking the other way.

No one said it would be easy. Easy isn't wanted. No better feeling than to stand up against your fears and fight your way victorious... but the wind can get cold. It can blow too long.

It shouldn't have to be such a devious game. So frequently a wearying struggle.

Sitting in any one place too long is a risk. The ghosts catch up if you stay put too long. You can loose them if you ride far enough, fast enough with enough unplanned turns to confuse them.  But, if you slow down, get lazy, get careless and run straight too far, they figure out your intentions, hone in on your location and soon find you mired in life.

Then you have to fight the fight all over again, beat them off and run for the far country and clear air.

I've found that most people in this life are incomplete. Somehow the world has changed and left the parts that complete a person behind, labeling those parts as useless anachronisms.

They complain about dishonesty, as they cheat the time clock and deceive those around them... they complain about loyalty, as they turn away from a "friend"... because that "friend" had the audacity to NOT follow their direction. They denigrate sacrifice as they curse those who won't give to them. The absence of compassion is broadcasted as they turn their backs on those beaten down . They ridicule those passionately in pursuit of their dreams, because they lack the F'ing spleen to step off in their own pursuit.

"People empty me... I have to get away from them to refill." -unknown

~ Brian

Suspended Animation ~ or ~ Financing My Gypsy Ways

My road wandering ways have gotten arrested for a month or so in Montana.

There's only one real problem with having the gypsy itch deep in your soul. No matter how Free you form up your life... Living ain't free. Simple and true, you have got to have some dollars.

When you pull into the towns for fuel, groceries, fresh jeans, tires and even the occasional wife for a night ;) all those places refuse to engage in charity. They demand dollars for their goods.

Soooo... until I manage to enjoy one of those "Breakouts", with one of my books, that tantalize a writers more mercenary parts... I have to stop and produce some bucks here and there to keep on moving.

This stop is being made in Sydney Montana for the annual beet harvest. A fella has the potential of squeezing out a few thousand in three weeks of work or so... so here I are... until near the end of the month then it's a quick haul to Phoenix for another week of work at the November NASCAR race at PIR (Phoenix International Speedway).

Hopefully, that'll all produce enough dinero to get some maintenance done on the Raider, like new fork seals, a valve adjustment and a new functional part or two for the improvement of long rides...

One thing I can tell you about sugar beets they stink ;) and, take one single walk through a "sugar factory" and you'll never put sugar in your mouth again! A grubbier, uglier place you've never seen than the inside of a sugar factory...

Maybe that'd be a good new diet plan... just take folks on a tour of a sugar plant... and let 'em see where all that gooey goodness that they're stuffing in their faces... came from! ;)

It's back to my skid steer and Piling Beets for me.
Brian

The Competing Needs of a Cowboy Biker

Balancing the wanderlust of a gypsy Cowboy Biker with the work of living... and the many great and treasured chunks of life is a formidable task for someone as lazy as I am.

Precious Friends whose absence leaves an aching hole in me, my writing and publishing, my Grandkids, my leather craft and even Horses! ... All are personal Treasures competing for a place. Some surely fit together and overlap, some stand alone... but the permanent and total loss of any is unthinkable...

I even tormented over the order they should be placed in the sentence!

... but, stretching out in front of me, remains that road that has no mercy... its whispers are relentless... its call I cannot leave unanswered...

Yet, to remain on the road, to preserve this life that I've come to Love, I increasingly see a burdensome reality. To sustain my gypsy life, I may have to choose to have less of it. It is in my mind analogous, somewhat pompously considering the contexts, to a line from the movie Gettysburg;

General Lee was speaking to General Longstreet before the worst of the battle;
"Soldiering has one great trap; To be a good soldier you must love the army. But to be a good officer you must be willing to order the death of the thing you love.

To wander... you must love the road. To sustain your wandering life, you must often push away from and leave behind the thing you love.

Few can produce a living, from the simple act of BEING a wanderer... They find they have to leave the road for periods of indentured servitude, contracting either their bodies or their intellect, or both,  to produce the dinero required to finance their rambling.

It's akin to owning a horse. If you're going to live with the spiritual fulfillment the animal gives, you must accept that you'll regularly have to shovel some shit.

The trick is to manage your life so the things you love... don't get buried under the horse shit.

Grab Your Handles and Ride
Brian

Keeping My Balance When I'm Not ON the Bike.

I'm always better as soon as the clamoring towns fall away behind me and the road stretches out to the horizon. It's not something I forget, but it is something a guy loses sight of in the struggle to just live.

The endless drone of the system to produce is a hard thing to resist. You're bombarded nearly every waking moment from every possible angle with jabs to; Make more, sell more, buy more. Yet the majority of that demanded productive citizenship serves only the system.

The reality is, the individual has small and very few true needs. Shelter, food, water, clothing... and a motorcycle! :)

The Primary goal should be; Live More. Producing should only be for the purpose of filling the fuel tank or the food box.

If you put pencil to paper supported by a lil' bit of cipherin' on a cheap calculator, seasoned with a lil' bit of pragmatic reality... you'll come up with a number I'm fairly confident will be a lot smaller than the one you've been 'existing' on.

I find in my own situation I have to consciously, constantly, "defend against the machine". I must deliberately shove all the pressures to "make a living" aside and set about actually... actually LIVING for a while.

The 'machine' is a devious and insidious thing. I often find myself sitting between two worlds. On the one hand I want and need little. On the other, I have to 'Sell' to feed myself, keep the roof patched and tires on the scooter.

It's finding that balance point between the two worlds that sometimes gets lost in the dust and commotion of living.

The best tool I know of to maintain the balance is to simply...

Grab Your Handles and Ride
Brian

Crossing Washington in The Smoke...

Freedom of the road... is not always Free and Easy.

Though I live on the road, I don't "Live" on the Bike. My house has four wheels and a hitch, and is drug by a truck... which in its senility, requires ever more attention, a couple grand and more in the last 60 days...

There is hardly a day that passes where I don't wish for an even simpler life. The happiest I've been, in the past ten years, was sleeping in the rain, under the thin skin of my HooDoo tent in Alaska. Just me and a bike. Nothing else to worry about or contend with.

Just me, a man, free on the earth... in rhythm with the land.

Now, my bike, my ONLY truly precious and necessary possession has her own need for attention.

The seals in her forks started leaking some time ago. First one, and then the other. Repair is simple. It only costs money. But that money, as soon as it gets close to being sufficient to pay the mechanic... is consumed by the life around me... and the rig. boo hoo. poor me.

Riding her I have to hold back. The unequal conditions in her front legs produces an unsettling wobble over uneven pavement if I push her out a bit leaning through the bends... and there are other maintenance needs that are stacking up for attention.

Now, knocked into low spirits by the trivial realities of life... I head for Idaho and Montana... only to be confronted by smoke and fires, straddling all the routes I was hoping to travel.

My wheels turn back farther north, Hoping that I can find clear air to travel through, and enough miles without need for repairs... that the repair money can go to Sonja. Sitting patient. Waiting for the attention she deserves. Waiting for the attention she requires. Waiting for the attention she has earned.

A simple life? ahhhh... such a sweet fantasy. It's all just life. Savor each of the small and good bits along the way.

Grab Your Handles and Ride
Brian

A Man ... A Machine ... A Love Affair ...

She waits for me in the dark, a metallic lover that commands my soul. In front of my camp beside the aerodrome, the sunrise crawls softly over the mountains.

I sneak out to share the early dawn and softly close the door behind me, as if to guard our affair.

A swirl of steam twists lazily from the coffee in my cup, rising through the still, sweet scented, cool air of the morning, to vanish into nothing.

I stand gazing at her flowing lines and feel that tension. My finger tips slide through the Dew that lays heavy on her skin like the sweat after a passionate embrace.

Behind me, the highway that calls to us both runs just behind the trees. At this early hour it lays nearly silent.

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Today we're going to dance along the coastal roads. From Cape Mears to Cape Lookout, Cape Kiwanda and Pacific City and we'll climb to the bluffs above the beach.

The trees that shroud the narrow road will hear us rumble under their branches. Like the sensual writhing of lovers, we lean through the bends that wind along the coastline. Man and machine will revel in the joy that is two wheels in the wind on an open road.

Today belongs to us. It is ours and ours alone.

We'll roll together with No one to own our time, our route or our destination.

No one to decide... but us...

Along the way we'll stop here and there to just sit quiet together and take in the visions and the scents. To rest and just breathe slowly, soaking up the life that is our freedom...

... and then we'll continue on.

She'll laugh as we dodge the holes in the road that suddenly appear as we sprint through the sun dappled shade over decaying pavement.

I'll grin with lust as she dances and weaves across the landscape, thundering back her love of the wind.

A strange blend of metal and man...

... The perfect antidote for a world that seems to have lost its mind.

I am forever in love with a machine.

Grab Your Handles and Ride
Brian