Thursday, October 27, 2011

Last Saturday

Flash Back to Saturday:

I just rode down hwy 9 on a red Ducati 900ss! Wow! I know that may not sound obviously deserving of exclamation points to some but I assure you that it is. The 16 year old Randy was in heaven. In fact, all of the Randy's from 16 to 35 were doing a little happy dance inside my mind. It was a super ride. It was a super day. Let's start with the ride.

Don drove me to the shop to pick up my Ducati in the morning.  Why?  Well, because after buying the bike, loving the bike, riding to work only a couple of times, but before getting to the ocean or the mountains, the starter burnt out.  Stuck. Sad.  And it sat in my garage for many weeks.  But now we are back.

And gloriously so.  100 miles ridden on a Saturday, the vast majority of which were through the windy redwood tree lined roads between the valley and the ocean.  Yes, finally I introduced the Ducati to the great Pacific.  Finally I was able to feel a steady back and forth weight shift uninterrupted around the rises and falls of the land.  The bike handles beautifully, the sound is excellent, the constant rhythm in the v-twin motor is comforting.  And the bike itself is comfortable.  And it's beautiful.  And it's quick.  And it sounds great in motion (a bit loud at a stand still but even then, mechanically fascinating).  And when the throttle is pulled considerably open there comes a point where a fantastic three dimensional roar becomes audible.  Not the one from the exhaust but a new and special sound-satisfaction from under the tank, through the air box and carburetors.  It is a whir of gulping air and the sound of magnificent controlled combustion reaching out and escaping straight up through the air channels to the rider.  It was awesome.  Twist the wrist, feel the thrust, and hear this machine/explosion/air sound rushing up through the tank and to the rider.  The big point here is that the bike has soul.  It's an amazing machine.  It's an amazing beautiful Italian machine, and it even got me 43 miles to the gallon.  As a tool it is impressive.  And sure, many bikes are, some more so.  Besides being impressive as tool however, is the excitement from the soul of this bike.  it has created an intangible essence, an aesthetic, a soul.  It feels good to interact with.  Even when it sat in my garage along side the Norton, unrideable, I still found pleasure walking by and noticing the bike.  On the move and alive it is only that much more magic, ethereal, intoxicating, stimulating, delight-full, sensual.

Ocean, mountains, twisty roads, changes in temperature and smell, wafts of humidity that vary by proximity to soil or stream or ocean, and this work of art that I am wrapped around, sliding through the atmosphere.  Every point of contact for each of my senses; I was aware of them and pleasantly so at various times of the day.  I even remember the point when I became aware of how my butt felt as I shifted my weight between curves in the road, and I was pleased.

And then, I came riding down HWY9 on a red Ducati, wearing a one peace leather suit, and I felt like a puzzle peace in a perfect fit of my reality solidly snapping into an ongoing fantasy.

When I got home and parked the bike next to it's Norton buddy my family was already loading up the car and getting ready to go.  Our family drove off to Rancho San Antonio park where we walked a mile each way to the farm. There we explored and gave Enzo his first non-book exposure to several animals whose names he knew like the vaca, pato, oveja, and more.  It was awesome.  Really, a perfect next event for the day.  Walking, or strolling, must be one of the greatest activities in the world available to humans.  Sharing that time with Tami and the kids was exactly what I needed to make my day fully ideal.  I'm pretty sure a perfect happiness and peace would be the result from daily walks with one's family sprinkled regularly with one's personal method of choice in communing with the universe.

How does October do it?  It's almost over but there is no slowing down in it's giving.  It was a perfect Saturday.  Maybe this feeling of October is too big for the month itself.  Maybe the spirit of the orange will have to flow a little longer.

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