Carpe lux Solis!

One of the most obvious advantages to living in Arizona is Aeterna lux solis - eternal sunshine. Bike dirty and need a good cleaning? Sunny, warm and dry out today, the perfect combo for cleaning up the ride? No problem ... do it today or don't, because tomorrow will be much the same. A re-run of "Big Trouble in Little China" playing on TCM for the umpteenth time? Hey, the bikes can wait until tomorrow. Livign in Arizona for six years I got pretty comfortable cleaning the bikes when I felt like it rather than when the weather offered me the brief opportunity. What a luxury!

The same is not true for the Seattle area. Up until last Saturday we had experienced only one twenty-four hour period without precipitation in the entire month of January - one day out of twenty-two. Obviously with my every day commuting in such muck my bikes were less than gleaming, and so on Saturday when the sun came out and dried up all the rain, I headed out to the garage with bucket, sponge and sham in hand because it was unlikely there would be a sunny tomorrow - literally. Thus there is a certain 'seize the day' attitude necessary if you want to keep your bike clean around here.

Some say Why bother? since it is more than likely that the rain will return and the bike just get dirty again. But to me a part of what makes us human is our refusal to give in the inevitable, to make some choices not 'because of,' but 'in spite of.'

And I had a ball, as I am one of those guys who really likes to keep his bike clean; I follow the proverb that says take care of your machine and it will take care of you. So for two or three hours I was washing, scrubbing, and polishing; contorting myself in all sorts of odd positions to get at dirt and grime in curious places ... just how in the world does grit manage to get thrown where it does get thrown, but no matter which way I twist the hose the water jet will not reach it? Weird.

As I was cleaning I began to wonder how many opportunities I had missed in life because I imagined (or convinced myself) there was a guaranteed sunny tomorrow? How often had I sat on my butt rather than engaged life? How many times had I missed a chance to make a new acquaintance, ease someone's burden, or simply enjoy the view because I had not been disciplined enough to take advantage of the moment?

I have buried enough people in my career to know that there are no guarantees. And I am not advocating an 'eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we die,' anything goes lifestyle, only a recognition that our own lassitude may prevent us from enjoying life in a multitude of ways.

Those bikes got a good scrubbing on Saturday and sure enough on Sunday the rains returned. All might appear to have been for naught as my bike got dirty again ... but not for me. Although Sunday was rainy, it was still a Sun day inside of my soul.

TCB - Taking Care of Business

The traffic was light, the morning was clear, and the roads were dry - a delightful morning for my MLK Day commute to work. I snicked the bike into gear and headed out, unimpeded by traffic, catching every light for the first half of my commute and enjoying the curves of the road and the scenery around me.

As I approached the half-way mark of my morning commute there was an eighteen wheeler in the left lane beside me. Long haul trucks are big, motorcycles are small, and I watched him carefully, concerned that he did not see me as he drifted slightly to the right. Then I noticed his left blinker was on and I figured he was just doing a bit of the old "edge right to go left," which is understandable with those big rigs. I continued to watch and when I saw his brake lights come on I glanced up to see the left turn signal become red. All was well.

Except it wasn't.

This particular juncture of my commute has a bit of a blind curve to the right as you drive through a freeway overpass. There are signal lights just beyond the overpass which are not visible as you make the curve and you have to be sure you look up and watch for the light as you drive through the overpass. I know this because I have been driving this route five or six days a week for three months. But knowing and doing are separate acts, and on this particular morning I was paying so much attention to the truck and his driving that I was not paying enough attention to my own driving.

Just as I glanced up and saw his red light, I observed that my light had just turned red as well. It was one of those "Oh, crap!" moments as I realized I was going too fast to stop before the intersection without locking up the brakes and probably skidding into the intersection. I glanced right (it is an off-ramp so no traffic enters from the left) and saw that the front wheels of the car had not yet started moving, so I punched it and roared through the red light. And as I did so I caught the eye of the driver and thought to myself, "Great, I have just added to his list of why he doesn't like motorcyclists."

He didn't have to say it of me, because I thought it of myself: Moron.

Paying attention to other drivers is important for safe riding, but doing so without paying attention to your own behavior is dumb. I was safe from the truck on my left but not from the poor schlub on my right, and it was my own fault.

How often in life do we get so worried about somebody's else's behavior that we don't pay attention to our own actions? How often have I heard one person screaming about another's inappropriate behavior without recognizing their own faulty actions? It is very easy to criticize the other guy, to observe his behavior and provide our "shoulda-woulda-coulda" commentary without taking a moment to ask questions about our own behaviors, our own culpability in complex situations.

TCB - Taking Care of Business means taking care of your own business before worrying about the other guy.

The Little Things

I have about a ten mile commute to work. The route itself is delightful, with hills, nice gentle curves, and some very pretty scenery. But between rain and traffic I am rarely able to really enjoy it. Only on occasion am I able to get into fourth gear, let alone fifth, and spend a lot of time practicing slow speed driving in first and second gears as I try to keep good intervals between the driver in front, beside, and behind me. It's not bad as commutes go, and riding a bike sure beats driving in a car, but usually it's just a commute.

But every now and then ... I have been working long hours for a few weeks so the other day I decided to head home early. I got on the KLR and remembered that it had not rained for about 24 hours so the roads were dry. I pulled into traffic and realized that I was late enough in the day to beat the lunch hour rush and early enough to be ahead of the home bound commuters. I had a few blocks of downtown lights to get through before hitting the less impeded part of my travel ... and the road suddenly opened up. No traffic, no slick streets, temps about 45 degrees. Perfect.

So I opened it up a bit - nothing nuts, it is still an urban area after all - but enough above the speed limit to really be able to lean into the curves and enjoy the zip of the bike. It didn't last long, maybe only three or four miles before granny pulled out in front of me and proceeded to drive five miles per hour UNDER the limit, but it was long enough to keep me smiling all week long.

We live in an incredible land with so much which goes right that I think we often take the good things for granted. We have come to expect life to always be good, food to always be tasty, conversations always to leave us fulfilled, and traffic to move as we want it to move. When it does not, we get cranky because we have forgotten how complicated life is for most folks in the world.

But every now and then something small happens - an unexpected smile, an "atta boy" from a boss or colleague, a sunny and dry day with no traffic - and we remember how important the little things are in life. We remember to be grateful, to appreciate what we have been given.

Especially given the tragic shooting in Tucson this week we should remember how precious is all of life and to appreciate every moment as a gift ...

Loud Pipes

There is a saying among MotoFolk: "Loud pipes save lives." This saying is popular with - imagine that - those who like loud pipes. The problem is that there is absolutely no statistical information to back up this claim, and I can add to the anecdotal evidence that refutes its veracity.

The only moving accident I ever had was riding a project Harley with really, really loud pipes. I bought the bike from a kid who had positively trashed the bike, stripping the excellent Vance & Hines pipes off and replacing them with straight slash-cuts, which provided no muffling what-so-ever. I was working the bike over and got the wiring replaced and a new front end put on and thought I would take it out for a quick test-run. The biggest mistake I made here was thinking that since it would just be "around the block" a couple of times I would not bother with any protective gear, including a helmet.

I fired it up, snicked it into gear, and headed down the road. All the electricals worked, the front end held true, and everytime I twisted the throttle the bike would rear up with a mighty roar. It was a beautiful day.

I came around a curve and pulled up beyond a senior gentleman in a monster SUV. I dropped it down into first gear and followed him at a safe distance for a block or so. He continued to drive more and more slowly until he finally pulled over a bit to the right and came to a stop. Thinking he wanted me to pass I checked the mirror, eased it to the left, and hit that throttle for a quick pass.

Then of course he turned left in front of me into his driveway. Pull to the right, stop completely, don't use a turn signal, don't check your mirror, and then execute a left turn. That's how they teach it in drivers ed, right?

I registered about an Eight on the sphincter scale, locked up the brakes, skidded the rear tire to my right, twisted the front end into the skid, and thought I was going to miss him.

Then of course he stopped. In the middle of the street and his own friggin' driveway. He later told me he didn't know I was there and didn't realize he had stopped (again), he just ... stopped.

It's funny how while the bladder and bowels are emptying themselves the brain fills with images, a series of snapshots which are permanently imbedded in the "Oh, shit" file in your brain. I saw my front wheel bounce off his back tire, I heard a "pop" while watching my handlebars swivel into the rear panel, and then observed the bike laying on its' side with fluids pouring out. The most amazing thing is that I saw all of this from a distance of about fifteen feet, standing straight up, not a scratch on me, observing it all just like a pedestrian who happened to be walking by. That "fight or flight" instinct ain't all bad.

I immediately ran over to the driver to make sure he was OK. He just looked at me and said, "I had no idea you were there."

No idea??!! I had the loudest pipes one could have and they were definitely roaring when I hit the gas, and he had not heard a thing. So much for loud pipes saving lives ....

The end of the story is that neither of us was hurt, my bike was OK, and his side panel was repairable. But it sure made me think about some things, like how dumb it is to even just "go around the block" without gear. I was very, very lucky. The other item for reflection was "loudness."

Ever notice how when people are in conflict we tend to raise our voices? As temperatures rise so does volume, as though louder will win ... but it doesn't. Loud pipes don't save lives or win arguments. You may shout the other person down but that does not really constitute winning, does it?

Loud pipes on a bike don't save lives, thoughtful driving does, and thoughtful driving is the product of listening to and observing the environment around you and then adjusting accordingly.

Loud pipes in a disagreement doesn't win the argument, thoughtful discussion does, and thoughtful discussion is the product of carefully listening to and observing the other person, and then adjusting accordingly.

Funny how those Hebrews from 3,000 years ago knew what they were talking about: "A gentle answer turns away wrath but a harsh word stirs up anger." - Proverbs 15:1

I wonder if they had any sayings about loud camels ...

Get it in Gear!

A vital function of an operational motorcycle is the transmission, which means that a vital function of the motorcycle operator is the ability to shift gears! One would think that shifting gears is no big deal - pull in clutch, tap the shifter into the next gear, release the clutch and you are back on your way. But like so much in riding and in life, it is a bit more complicated than that.

The problem lay not so much in the physical aspects of dis-engaging and re-engaging the transmission as in the consequences of said actions, which is really the important part. Pulling and tapping are actions necessary to accomplish the task of transferring power from the engine to the wheels. Clumsy, sudden, or inefficient engagement of clutch and shifter is a prescription for trouble, since those actions affect the transfer of power, and transfer of power is what makes a motorcycle go ... or not.

Racers spend a lot of time thinking about how to improve shifting, since every fraction of a second matters. Smoother means faster, faster means more efficient, and more efficient means time is saved - the secret to winning a race. Folks such as Lee Parks take that knowledge and share the insights with us every day riders. In his classes Mr. Parks spends no little amount of time on how to efficiently shift gears and one important aspect is what is termed "pre-loading" which simply means that you gently nudge your shifter prior to needing to shift. By doing so the amount of time and energy it takes to actually shift into gear is reduced, producing the probability of a much smoother shift.

Given how often we hear the phrase "get it in gear" it seems to me that this concept of pre-loading, of preparing yourself to move from one activity or level to another, is a concept applicable to life. This really came home to me this past week.

The Christmas seasons often brings out the best and the worst in people, which means that as a pastor I must respond to a variety of situations. The other day I had spent the morning in pastoral care, listening to concerns and fears, sharing sadness at loss, trying to offer comfort to folks in distress. Then the secretary came into my office to tell me of an aggressive and confrontative person in the Church; she was scared and needed some assistance. As an urban church we have lots of folks come through seeking help and most are polite, respectful and appreciative. But now and then you get some folks with mental health issues and other folks who are just plain mean.

This guy was the latter.

I went out, chatted with him and offered him the services we have available; however, we require folks to give us their names and he absolutely refused to do so. I twice explained to him why we do this and he continued to act in a belligerent manner. I told him that I respected his position and without thinking I reached out and gently touched his arm as I did so.

Big mistake. And I know better; when confronted by an angry person you DO NOT touch them, as regardless of how gentle the touch they will respond to it as an attack. But I was still in "pastoral" mode where a gentle touch is reassuring and comforting. I had not "pre-loaded" myself so that I was prepared to shift gears quickly and efficiently and deal with this gentleman in a manner appropriate and effective for his situation.

The end of the story is that the guy became even more aggressive, I asked the secretary to call the police (if I was going to get smacked in the snout I would rather have the cops on the way before getting pummeled than after), and then escorted him out the door. He went without physical violence and my snoot remained without need of physician, much to my relief.

All of us in life are faced with various and sundry demands on our persons and our times. I have a hunch that a lot of conflict emerges because we have not adequately pre-loaded and prepared ourselves to shift gears as necessary: unexpected demands and needs often result in us responding with anger, frustration, or confusion which then leads to conflict.

I have no handy-dandy method to suggest how to accomplish this pre-load. Sometimes I remember to do it on my bike, and sometimes I don't. The same is true in life. But the more we adequately pre-load, that is, the better we are at preparing ourselves to shift gears, the smoother the transition. And smooth is good!

Traction

I've got traction on the mind, which is no surprise given that I have moved to a record rainfall season in Seattle from "it's a dry heat" Arizona. Traction, the adhesive friction that exists between tire and road, is vital as it is what allows you to go, stop, and stay upright.

Traction is generally not much of a problem on Arizona roads given temperatures such that the tire practically melts onto the road. Add broad, flat, straight streets and you have the perfect environment for tootling down the road admiring the scenery.

Not so in Seattle, where hills abound and the curves are so numerous as to make one wonder if the bike will ever stand up straight again. Add a bazillion cars dripping all kinds of fluids on to a road that never seems to completely dry out, and that is a prescription for disaster if one tootles down the road admiring the scenery.

At most the amount of traction a motorcycle tire has is an area about the size of a deck of cards. Add lean, acceleration, or braking to the equation and that area decreases exponentially; factor in loss of traction due to a slippery surface and the actual size of contact patch that keeps the bike on Terra firma is frighteningly small. So while it is amazing how little traction is actually necessary to keep you rolling safe and sound, the moral of the story is that Traction is Good.

Traction is good ... for motorcycles AND for human beings. You see, traction is really just the friction created between tire and road surface and while we generally think of friction as a bad thing in human relations, it is actually necessary. We human beings are constructed for action and inter-action; just like a muscle which should be used rather than rested or it will atrophy, so it is with human interaction, or traction, which is the adhesive friction which exists between one human and another. If we don't find it naturally, we will create it artificially.

If there is no adhesive friction which allows us to move, we will create it, whether by so doing it allows us to move forward OR backward in the relationship. We just can't stand still!

I just spent six years serving in a retirement community and I found that those men and women who had given thought to retirement and sought creative expressions for their lives were delightful, healthy, well adapted folks. Those who had not done so were often petty and argumentative nit-pickers who, because of the lack of meaning in their lives, sought to create meaning out of the most meaningless issues.

But the same is true of working folk; if you have a job that is mostly enjoyable and provides opportunity for creative expression, life is good. If you don't have such a workplace, or have one which provides TOO MUCH traction (which in the interaction of tire and road prevents you from moving at all) or friction, life is not so good either.

Too little traction and you slide out of control; too much traction and you can't move. So finding the right amount of traction may be the secret to life, just as it is to happy riding.

Pay Attention

'Tis the season when we think of shepherds and Stars, Magi and mangers, Angels and announcements. I have been thinking about all of the above, but especially about Angels and announcements.

My morning commute takes about twenty minutes, give or take. After riding it for about three weeks now I have the route down, know where the bottlenecks are located, the best angles to take during wet weather and dry, and have the green light timing down so the communte moves pretty well most mornings.

But as with all things in life, there is an "X" factor: the Other Driver.

Washington is a hands free state, which means that you are not supposed to text, talk on your cell phone while it is in your hand, check your email, or perform any of the other tasks available through that tiny hand-held device that has more computing power than the Apollo 11 moon rocket. But of course we humans are quick to affirm that laws only apply to other people and it has been my observation that the hands free law is visible more in its disregard than its application. Commuting in the early-morning darkness, when the glow of the the hand held device is more obvious, has only strengthened that view.

Most mornings are not too bad, but today was particularly pernicious. I was cut off twice by boneheads checking messages while changing lanes, once by a guy pulling out in front of me and then slowing down as he dialed a number, and one woman who weaved all over the road as she leaned halfway across the car to dig in her purse for her phone. Luckily none of this provided any real threat to me as I continually adhere to the best piece of motorcycling advice I ever received: Just assume that everyone in a car is out to kill you and ride accordingly.

So I am a pretty attentive driver. Which brings us back to Angels and announcements. One of my favorite movies is "Michael" starring John Travolta. Travolta plays the Archangel Michael, who accompanies a group of hack writers heading back to their corporate office, all the while engaging in various adventures. It is a sort of cosmic journey film.

Two scenes in particular stand out for me; the first is when Travolta announces to the questioning of the angel expert played by Andie MacDowell that he is "not that kind of angel" and the second with MacDowell where he shares remarks on her character with stunning revelation. In a state of shock at his cogent observations, MacDowell says to him "How do you know that?" To which the Michael character responds: "I pay attention."

Therein lay a key to much of life: "I pay attention." How often do we fail to pay attention - while driving, while working, while conversing with friends and loved ones - and thereby cause harm? To pay attention is an act far more complicated than simply hearing the words or observing the scene, for it involves living with others and for others. Paying attention is the process by which we deeply inhale the moment and all of its implications, for us and for others, which can reveal far more than mere words.

Ralph Waldo Emerson once observed "What you do speaks so loudly that I cannot hear what you say." That's paying attention - comprehending the meaning which exists beyond the words.

Regardless of one's faith stance, this is a season to be reminded of the value of paying attention, particularly to issues that transcend our own immediate wishes and desires, like checking messages or attaining the new record for commute time. Pay attention, for this is a season when angels abound ... and not always in the guise in which we expect!