Why do guys like motorcycles?
Is it because it represents something to them? Is it because a guy can hop onto his motorcycle just like that and zoom away from the horrors of the domestic?
Is it because of the leather jackets? Is it because of the zoom zoom noise?
Is it because of the visibility?
I was filling up at a gas station in Montana and this mini motorcycle gang stops by to fill up as well. It's a man and his son and a married couple. They look congenial enough, so I wave.
Before I know it, I'm completely wrapped up in a lecture. This man is talking my ear off here, sounding off about motorcycles and motorcycle parts and how it all has to do with his philosophy.
For someone who claims to know the biggest answers to life, he sure doesn't seem to know the simple things, the simple cues. Like when a stranger doesn't want to drink your kool aid.
I dissociate myself from my body. It's something you learn how to do when you're a woman. I'm floating somewhere over my head and watching this man yap on and on about motorcycle hardware and Phaedrus and "Quality" and I just know that he thinks he knows so much. I can see my physical body nodding at him.
My dissociated spirit gazes on at his cohort. Poor babies. Imagine going on a cross country road trip with an insufferable philosophy major. Yikes.
The man and wife look really tired. They look as if they'd like to leave this guy at any time, but, oh, now I see, they're staying for the boy. The boy looks like he's not yet a teenager. He's got this glazed look in his eye. Looks like he needs his mother. One too many days out on the road with dad, I'd guess.
Well, good on those two for sticking by him. God knows I wouldn't last as long.
"Well it was sure nice talking to you, I've got to be on my way!" I say quickly.
As I leave, I hear him mention to the woman, "Sylvia, I'm having some good feelings about these thoughts I've been thinking on this trip. I just shared a couple of them with this nice stranger here and I think what I really need to do now is write a book on the topic."
Is it because it represents something to them? Is it because a guy can hop onto his motorcycle just like that and zoom away from the horrors of the domestic?
Is it because of the leather jackets? Is it because of the zoom zoom noise?
Is it because of the visibility?
I was filling up at a gas station in Montana and this mini motorcycle gang stops by to fill up as well. It's a man and his son and a married couple. They look congenial enough, so I wave.
Before I know it, I'm completely wrapped up in a lecture. This man is talking my ear off here, sounding off about motorcycles and motorcycle parts and how it all has to do with his philosophy.
For someone who claims to know the biggest answers to life, he sure doesn't seem to know the simple things, the simple cues. Like when a stranger doesn't want to drink your kool aid.
I dissociate myself from my body. It's something you learn how to do when you're a woman. I'm floating somewhere over my head and watching this man yap on and on about motorcycle hardware and Phaedrus and "Quality" and I just know that he thinks he knows so much. I can see my physical body nodding at him.
My dissociated spirit gazes on at his cohort. Poor babies. Imagine going on a cross country road trip with an insufferable philosophy major. Yikes.
The man and wife look really tired. They look as if they'd like to leave this guy at any time, but, oh, now I see, they're staying for the boy. The boy looks like he's not yet a teenager. He's got this glazed look in his eye. Looks like he needs his mother. One too many days out on the road with dad, I'd guess.
Well, good on those two for sticking by him. God knows I wouldn't last as long.
"Well it was sure nice talking to you, I've got to be on my way!" I say quickly.
As I leave, I hear him mention to the woman, "Sylvia, I'm having some good feelings about these thoughts I've been thinking on this trip. I just shared a couple of them with this nice stranger here and I think what I really need to do now is write a book on the topic."
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