Goodbye Old Friend

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!