I want to get as much mileage as possible out of the Suzuki Burgman 650 scooter that will be coming my way in a few weeks. And I'm not just talking about how much gasoline I put in the tank.
There's a lot of blogging possibilities with motorized two-wheeling.
So I've added a "scootering" category to HinesSight in anticipation of sharing fresh views of life as it will appear through my Shoei helmet.
Presently I'm in a philosophizing mode, because my main reason for wanting a maxi-scooter (meaning, a big one) is pretty darn profound: I want to let loose the Brian that I know I am, but often keep caged up.
Most of us do this. Could be everybody. For one reason or another we go through life acting one way outside, while feeling another way inside.
Sometimes this is appropriate. Civilization requires some stifling of impulses.
But often we simply get into habits of inauthenticity -- lazily allowing ourselves to become someone we aren't, a persona others have learned to associate with the name we go by, yet which leads us to say "I'm not that guy."
Breaking out of this self-imposed cage often is dismissed with a he (or she) is just having a mid-life crisis.
To which I respond: Hey, it's never too early, or too late, to have a life crisis. What is life for, if not crisis'ing? Doesn't Zen encourage us to live every day as if your hair was on fire?
And didn't another source of wisdom, namely me, expound scooterishly on my other blog upon the theme, "Follow your passion wherever it leads"?
Now, I don't want to over-philosophize my desire for a Suzuki Burgman. However, this is absolutely true: ever since I ordered it, I've felt different about myself. More, well, me. As I wrote before:
I realized that when I thought about getting on two motorized wheels again (I had a small Honda trail bike in high school and college, and a mid-sized Yamaha motorcycle about fifteen years ago) I'd feel a sensation of Oh, yeah, that's me!
Not that I'm a motorcycle or scooter. But that I'm the sort of person who enjoys riding one, who likes taking risks in the pursuit of fun, who has a bit of Brando in me.
This isn't you. I'm me. You're you. I'm just saying that each of us, you, me, everybody, knows where our passions lie.
Maybe they're precisely reflected in what we're doing, thinking, and feeling now. Most likely, they aren't. Because for good reasons, and also for not-so-good reasons, we often trade passion for something else.
Life is short. The universe is 14 billion years old. It will continue for many more billions. If we humans live to be 100, that's amazingly long by Homo sapiens standards.
And astoundingly short by any sort of cosmic measure.
I don't believe in life after death. I don't disbelieve in it, either. There's just no evidence to support the notion that we keep on living after our last breath, so I assume that whatever I want to do with my life, it had damn well better happen in this one.
When people hear that I'm getting a scooter, a common response is the same as what motorcyclists hear: But they're so dangerous!
Well, yes. So is climbing Mt. Everest. Much more so.
The death rate has remained at one death for every 10
successful attempts to climb Everest for many years, the British
Medical Journal report states.
Yet we admire people who contemplate the mountaineering risk-to-reward ratio, and decide to place their bet on living life fully, with 29,029 feet of passionate gusto.
Others set out to ride a motorcycle or scooter. Or whatever. Why? Because -- no why's required, though they can be supplied upon request.
Life can end for any of us at any moment, some moments being more likely than others (when I turned sixty last year, this decade'al birthday helped me realize that I'm getting uncomfortably close to the higher probability phase of life -- so I'm justified in saying, "To hell with a mid-life crisis; I'm signing up for an end-of-life crisis").
It isn't good to come to the end of the road and think, I wasn't really ever on it, not the way I wanted to be. The only path that really matters is the one that leads us to ourself. If we're rolling down that Way with our passion throttle open and a smile on our face, excellent.
Nothing more to do. We can't control how long the ride will last. Just how authentically we experience it.