I awoke at 5am this morning
in preparation for the six-hour drive in my truck to pick-up my new
motorcycle…well, a used one, actually.
A 2007 Ducati Monster 695.
I had searched online all summer for the right make, model, year, and
mileage. One I had “on the hook”
was sold from under me last week, but this one…black and red, and pristine was
on hold for me in upstate New York!
My precious. I had cash-in-hand, the blessing of my
wife, and a window of time to make the trek. Minutes before I was set to leave,
I could not.
Life seems to come full circle. Motorcycles were, after all, an in
trickle part of my upbringing. I
mean, heck, I grew up in Laconia, New Hampshire…home of the oldest motorcycle
rally in the world! As a teenager
I rode a street bike to school. A
Kawasaki Ninja 600, also black and red.
At one point or other most of my friends rode bikes. Call it status,
call it culture, riding was just what we did.
‘I need an outlet,’ I said to
my wife Kelly as she held our eleven-month-old daughter. ‘I need to aim stress away from my
home, to be in the moment, to be balanced, to feel revived,’ Yes, riding meets
the criteria of those things.
Am I selfishly placing my
needs before my family's? Am I a petulant child, wanting a toy? Am I worthy of such a luxury? Will this really fulfill my need for an outlet?
I left the decision to buy
the bike to Kelly. She spent time
processing the pros and cons (and costs) of welcoming a motorcycle into our
family. Kelly has no experience
with the culture of motorcycling aside from what I had shared with her, and her
visit this summer to Laconia Bike Week.
She recognized the value I had for riding and gave me her blessing to
buy it! Now it is my call…all
clear! An easy decision for me, right?
Turns out not an easy
decision at all! We accept the
inherent risks of riding. I know my
responsibilities of family, especially to my daughter Annie. The bike is a luxury, particularly an
exotic Italian one like a Ducati which, turns out, is very expensive to maintain.
The costs were an issue, but not prohibitive, not holding me back.
The decision to purchase the
bike today hinged upon answering a question objectively:
Why do I feel that I need such an outlet at this point
in my life!?
The “reasonable” outlet of
riding had quickly become living-out a fantasy. The pursuit became too surface. I had given-in to the seductive impulse
of redefining myself with black leather, tinted shades, and decadent, “Ducati
Red.”
After taking a hard look, it
seems I have lost my way. When I
put the “outlet” of a Ducati motorcycle in relationship to our beautiful art studio
I began to have clarity. It seems
I am escaping from the fact that art
has become detached from my roles as
husband, father and teacher. Buying a fantasy was way easier than the
complexity of working toward weaving art (and our studio) back into the fabric
of family.
There is nothing wrong with
black leathers, a sexy motorcycle or the culture of riding! I painfully must confess that the
fantasy of riding was avoidance all
along. A distraction, not an
outlet! The way I need to aim
stress away from my home, to be in the moment, to be balanced, to feel revived,
is by art-making!
I will reconsider returning
to motorcycling only when my priorities are back where they belong. I am fortunate this lesson did not turn
out to be an expensive one!
