Good, good, good, good Vibrations?

If you do not care much for metaphysical speculation, quit reading now. If, however, as so many who ride you speak in almost spiritual tones to describe the feeling you have when you ride, read on.

More and more scientific research in is providing empirical evidence for what spiritual traditions have claimed for millenia. Not always is science proving that which is claimed in the holy books of various traditions, but it is helping us to understand the why and wherefore of that which certain traditions have held as truth. For example, some of the laws which are found in the Jewish Torah or what Christians refer to as the Old Testament, are clearly understood today to be health related; foods and practices prohibited by certain of those laws we know today to be clearly unhealthy. Through observation and using the knowledge available at the time, the ancients recognized a certain relationship and thus created laws related to protecting members of their tribes.

Now we also know today that some of the established laws and beliefs were based on cultural norms not necessarily related to what we would deem as scientific, and we have discarded adherance to those beliefs, such as the Earth being 6,000 years old and the center of the universe.

With those caveats, let us consider what science and some spiritual traditions have to say about vibration, and combine it with some thought about motorcycles.

In the Hindu tradition it is believed that all creation - plants, animals, humans, everything - comes from the Primordial Vibration; in Sanskrit this concept is referred to as the Unstuck Sound or "the sound that is not made by two things striking together." One might also use this imagery related to vibration when considering the Muslim, Jewish, and Christian traditions which embrace the narrative that "God said" (speech pathology having taught us that speaking is in fact the result of vibration) as the prelude to the creation of all matter: "God said let there be light ...God said, 'Let us make humankind ..." and so forth.

In the material world we recognize that all ordinary audible sounds are the result of two objects in concert: vocal cords, waves against the shore, wind against the leaves, etc. In physics it is held that everything is the result of occilation or vibration; E = MC2 is the mathematical foundation indicating that all matter is an expression of energy (supposedly Einstein stated that "Everthing is vibration" though I have as of yet not discovered the original source quote).

What does this have to do with motorcycling? First, we know that motorcycles vibrate; since the advent of the self-propelled two-wheeled riding machine engineers have been seeking ways to reduce vibration to endurable proportions. Yet for all of us who ride, the "vibe" of the machine is in fact important. In an interesting book by Stephen L. Thompson entitled Bodies in Motion, the author sets out to explore this aspect of the rider-machine relationship, the response of the rider to the vibration produced by particular motorcycles . He argues against the assertion that motorcyclists ride only for social reasons and instead maintains that we ride for primarily psycho-biological reasons. He holds that while culture can induce one to first try riding a motorcycle, it is genetic heritage that causes one to experience the pleasure (he is not speaking here in sexual terms!) that many riders describe and thus keep on riding.

One must agree that at some level there must be something different about the rider who chooses to experience the viscissitudes of wind, rain, temperature, and the danger of riding a two-wheeled platform that is relatively prone to de-stablization. It certainly would not appear to be the most rational of decisions ... yet we ride. Why? And the answer "If you have to ask you would not understand" does not suffice for me, for I AM a rider and yet at times wonder why, even as I clamber into my gear and climb on the bike for yet another wet and cold sojourn.

That is why I was so intrigued by Thompson's thesis. We know riding is not a rational event, but is it necessarily an irrational event? Is there something simply non-rational, something one might even call spiritual, that results in such a choice? More and more science is experimenting with the interface between biology and spirituality; for example researchers are discovering that certain parts of the brain light up in response to practices such as meditation and prayer. It seems that some humans are hard-wired in such a way as to be more receptive to so-called spiriutal stimuli. Tomio Hirai has done much to map the brain in response to Zen Buddhist practices and simply because we can understand how something works does not mean that we have discovered the why or first cause. Hence my excitement about Thompson's thesis.

Alas, Thompson provides us only wth an intriguing thesis backed up by no real empirical evidence nor reasoning. His "book" is really a series of disconnected essays with a veneer of scientific research applied. Half the book is a series of charts that demonstrates the results of vibration testing on various bikes, conducted at Stanford University. The ultimate conclusion is that different bikes vibrate at different rates in different places.

No shit. I can put my seven year old grandson on my Harley, my Triumph, and my Kawi and he can tell me they feel different. I don't need two hundred pages (!) of appendixes from tests done at Stanford to tell me that.

And that is the disppointment. I think Thompson is on to something; in Zen Buddhism it is believed that any activity can result in the achievement of Enlightenment if only one pursues that activity with full mindfulness. So why not through motorcycling? How often have I heard motorcycling referred to as "the lazy man's Zen"? Perhaps it is the physical vibration of the bike that somehow triggers something in the brain that connects in ways we do not yet understand with that which we label "spiritual". I know in my own life I have had experiences on the bike that I would call spiritual, and I know that although I see value in all types or motorcycles, I do have my "default" preferences for riding and would be at a loss to explain exactly why. So perhaps differing vibrations from differing bikes do resonate in different ways with various people - although I would not entirely discount the social aspects in discussing why someone rides a particular bike.

So keep riding; maybe the Beach Boys were more right than they realized?

"I'm pickin up good vibrations,
She's giving me excitations,
Good good good good vibrations ...."

Image or Authenticity?

A couple of weeks ago I went to the International Motorcycle Show here in Seattle. I go every year as it is an opportunity to get out, see the some of the latest and greatest from the major manufacturers, and it is just fun to hang with some buddies.

Like most years, this show had displays of classic bikes which are always neat to see, lots of vendors selling all kinds of crap that I have lived without for years but now must have, and of course the plethora of outrageous bikes along with jaw-dropping prices.

A bike in latter category that gave me pause was a heavily tarted up $35,999 V-Twin Bagger, loaded with a comfort fit gel seat, fairing, backrest, grip warmers, every conceivable electronic device possible to load on a bike, a primo paint job, all topped off with a chromed skull emblem on the front of the fairing.

A bike with a chrome skull ... for $35,999? Anyone who could afford this bike probably does not live a skull lifestyle. I stood in front of that bike for a long time, thinking that a purchase such as this is about image, about the look, not the living. But goodness knows there is a great deal of image around motorcycling.

Years ago I was fed up with the ministry and was offered a job in sales with a deal of a major US motorcycle manufacturer. I was ready to dump the collar and don the chaps until the sales manager concluded his pitch to me by saying, "We don't sell motorcycles, we sell a lifestyle."

That's when some bells went off. I realized that if I was going to sell a "lifestyle" that I much preferred it to be one that comes through belief in something more than a material object that has built-in obsolescence. So the local church is my vocation and riding my avocation ... a decision I do not regret for one minute!

Recently I came across a website dedicated to thrashing all things Harley-Davidson and though the author is quite witty I thought some of his rants a bit extreme, especially as he claims that he does not care about image but just rides what he wants to ride. Which sounds good except that what he wants to ride is always a sportbike, which definitely has an image associated with it. I challenged him on this in an email and never got a response ...

But the truth is that in challenging him I was challenging myself as well. My first bike at age fifteen had nothing to do with a biker image; it was just the next step in extending my freedom. But isn't that something to do with image, with who I wanted to be?

Soon I came to love riding in and of itself; on my Long Rides five hundred mile days are minimal and it is an act of discipline for me when I am with buddies who love to stop and smell the roses. I take two or three classes each year to improve my riding skills, and although my default bike tends to be metric, I currently own a Kawi, a Triumph, and a Harley and appreciate each for what it has to offer. The only reason I don't own a sport bike is that after about five minutes of that hunched over position my middle-aged back is screaming at me ... but man, do I love the power and zip those devils possess!

So on the one hand I could claim that I don't care about image but yet ... in my heart of hearts, I know that I do care. When I was fifteen and riding my little Honda down the road and a dude on a chopped H-D gave me the upraised clenched fist in a sign of moto-brotherhood, I became part of a tribe and still have that image of unity burned in my memory. I love it when I am on the road and stop at a gas station and have some kid who is dying to get out of that one-horse town talk to me about his dreams. I love it when at that same gas stop some old guy will talk about the ride he had back in the day. I love it that my parishoners are tickled that their pastor rides a bike up the ramp to the front door of the church each day. When people ask me about my riding, I always make it clear that I commute every day, rain or shine (mostly rain in this part of the world!) and am not just a fair weather rider. And honestly, all of that is about image, at least to a degree.

So how do we differentiate between what we do for image and what is somehow authentic to our selves? I honestly don't have an answer ... perhaps it is a chicken and egg sort of question. Maybe we try on images, not unlike clothes, as we seek to determine who and what we really are. In my life I have known people who imagined themselves rebels or pioneers or laid back when in fact they were really quite traditional settlers who had little patience for that which was beyond their control! But they tried on the image for a while before becoming comfortable with who they really were, but in my opinion were often better for trying on that image (and here I am not talking about being some sort of gangster or bad ass biker, but folks who try the Nine to Five and find it does not fit, or the pseudo-Hippie who realizes he likes a regular paycheck).

I know that in my own life my struggle with image has in fact made me a better human being; the truth is that I am a pizza loving, beer drinking redneck; I grew up around a beer distributor so can be quite profane, patience is not a virtue I possess, and I still think flatulance is funny. These are not necessarily the top qualities one seeks in a pastor. But by modulating what some might call my "authentic self" with an image that is in fact important to my profession, I have become a better person. There is nothing wrong with discipline and in fact I think it may be quite neglected in our time.

So on the one hand maybe image is not all bad. Maybe image can help us extend our own boundaries, or become better people, at leat when we choose positive images. And while I have my doubts about the image of a chrome skull on a $35,999 bike, who am I to judge?

These are the Good Old Days

As a middle-aged Boomer, every now and then I get a hankering for something from "the good old days," a piece of nostalia from my youth. This craving is no doubt fed by watching such programs as "American Pickers" where every week I see something that reminds me of my long ago!

Like the memory of my first car, a 1964 VW Beetle, the first year the crank sunroof was available. The car was cheap, great on gas mileage for the time, easy for a sixteen year old to repair, and greatly extended my nomadic range... not to mention my date-ability. So the hunt was on and I anticipated some sort of nostalgic epiphany as my middle-aged self connected with my youthful self.

I followed up several leads, only to find junk at the end of the rainbow. All it takes is a couple of minutes to spot a cracked head, twisted frame, or some other malady that the seller is trying to pass on to an unsuspecting buyer. But finally I found a 1968 model in cherry condition with no major issues (you will always have some issue with a used vehicle). So my wife and I jumped in for a test run, drove up and down a few streets, accelerated, stopped, shifted gears, and the car continued to prove road-worthy. Finally we returned to the home of the seller, I thanked her for her time and we got in our car and drove away.

My wife was quite puzzled; "You said it was great?" "Yep," I responded. "It was great ... for a thirty-five year old car. But what a piece of crap to drive!" My nostalgia for youth had been superceded by my appreciation for 21st century technological improvements such as EFI, disc brakes, and power steering. Luckily I got that "Bug" out of my system BEFORE I bought it.

But it bit again a few months ago when I decided I needed something better than my KLR for commuting daily. Having learned at least a little bit from the Great VW Hunt, this time I decided to upgrade my nostalgia a bit and looked at motorcycles that had a retro look but kitted with modern technology. I focused on the Brit bikes that were the "must-have" of my youth, such as the modern Bonneville and the updated Royal Enfield. But even updated they were puny; when I twist the wrist, I like to go and when I squeeze the brakes I like to stop. I had become spoiled by all that modern tech has to offer and so the brain overrode nostalgia once again and I ended up with a Triumph Tiger 800, a relatively new model which is perfect for me.

All of this got me to thinking about nostalgia and about how often I hear "The times were so much simpler years ago; those were the good old days." No, the times were not simpler, YOU were simpler. In childhood and youth I got up, ate breakfast, went to school, played with my friends, ate lunch and dinner, watched some TV, went to bed and did little more than anticipate the next day. I was the simple one: my needs, wants, hopes and desires were focused in the moment and with the task at hand, which is actually very Zen like.


As I was riding to work on Christmas morning, I felt that way again. It was a lovely dry morning, the Christmas Eve services had been wonderful, my kids and grandkids are doing well, the roads were clear, and I felt that wonderful sense of simplicity wash over me. That is when it hit me. What made the good old days ... well, the good old days, were not things, but me. If I had different possessions back in the day, like if my first car had been a Corvair instead of a VW, then that is the car I probably would have been seeking. And if it was me that provided that wonderful sense of simplicity back then, it could be recovered, since it is not dependent upon a possession but an attitude. Simplicity is a state of mind, not a possession.


So maybe the lesson here is that THESE are the good old days.