I’m Back in the Saddle Again

I’m Back in the Saddle Again

I’m very excited at the moment. I’m sitting at San Diego airport on a rainy, foggy Sunday when Kim and I are heading back to New York after a ten-day hiatus out here for a motorcycle ride and a few days of communing with our Casa Moonstruck and our siblings. Our flight is delayed two hours due to weather and I don’t seem to give a shit. First of all, the San Diego airport is one of the most civilized airports I have been to and I am proud to be moving to a city that has such a great and accommodative airport. Their departure and arrival roadways always seem to work (unlike at JFK), their TSA-Pre lines are short and actually do what they are supposed to (no shoe, belt, or jacket removal), they have a beautiful terminal with very nice artwork (I’m especially fond of the overhead kinetic light sculptures) and wide-open common spaces (we never use the lounges here, which pleases my egalitarian sensibility). I can sit and work or write or watch a movie as well here as I could at home…either home. I’m not fond of getting into JFK at midnight, but at least the traffic will be light.

But none of those reasons are why I am excited. I’m excited because I just (in the past 24 hours) organized a complete motorcycle ride and Silver Anniversary Gathering of my motorcycle club. Of the forty emails I sent out, I heard from thirty-two within a day. That alone is an amazing 80% response rate (even higher if you figure at least three of the eight non-responders may involve old email addresses). And here is the thing, the place I tried to reserve, a very pleasant western lodge we know well, also confirmed their availability for the dates I requested. In terms of responses, I already have thirty confirmed attendees and three likely. Only one couple can’t come for perfectly good family obligation reasons. And surprise, surprise, when I laid it all out on the floor plan of the Lodge’s limited rooming capacity, it fit like a glove. I literally had exactly enough rooms and beds to accommodate the people who responded affirmatively within twenty-four hours. That never happens. That’s as good as it gets, even though we all know some will try and add on and others will fade out. For this one bright shining moment on a rainy San Diego Sunday (remember we need lots of rain in Southern California for the reservoirs and to avert wildfires), I have attained perfection. As the dying Katsumoto says in The Last Samurai, “All the cherry blossoms are perfect.”

I am Samurai. The word in Japanese means to serve someone who you look up to. I look up to the members of my motorcycle club (they are mostly older than me and all are worthy of great respect). My sword is my BMW motorcycle (currently a white K1600GTL). Like Samurai, my soul is held by my sword and it commands a degree of self-discipline, respect and ethical behavior. I like the imagery of Samurai in these troubled times. They not only embody all of those beliefs of service and behavior, but they also had no restrictions on women becoming Samurai or the wives of Samurai learning the art of war to defend the family. Samurai believed strongly in the education of all, especially women. This is a good and important thing, especially now when the rights of women to control their own destiny are being threatened and circumscribed by a misguided political and pseudo-religious trend.

I love motorcycling and I love my motorcycle club. I formed it twenty-five years ago. I designed the logo (with the help of my daughter) and had it tattooed on my upper left arm. There is no other thing in the world that I can imagine having a tattoo about, and yet I have enjoyed mine now for eighteen years with no regrets. I have organized the majority of the rides, attended many and written the stories on every ride I have attended (forty-five or so). I have a book of ride stories about the club that I have put together and am editing. I have over 200 pages so far and expect to self-publish it for the Silver Anniversary Gathering to give out to all attendees. This will be my present to all my friends who have contributed so much to my happiness over the years. Memorializing the good times of one’s life should be a priority for us all at every occasion. Because I feel there is nothing maudlin about that sentiment, I will add that I try hard to write with humor and poke at everyone, but none more than myself. I take the ride and the friendships seriously, but I work hard to never take myself seriously.

This planned ride is a year away, but that’s OK. Some of us actually have a planned ride to Turkey between now and then and I’m sure there will be many impromptu rides all year long. This Anniversary ride was discussed as a possible “bookend” to a great run for the club, but I was talked out of that idea on the ride just finished. There really is no reason to call an end to something so many of us enjoy. People will continue to come and go from the ride roster. We have had beloved members pass away, we have had members become too old or too injured to ride. We have had members fade into life’s other priorities. We even had one become a Governor of a major state and then get the boot by the electorate after one term. None of that matters. It’s all good. I quit skiing after a lifetime of skiing and never looked back. I can understand how some might stop riding and never look back. That will never happen to me (he says with great bravado).

For now, I am back in the saddle again and its where I like to be. Turning around in the saddle, high up on the ridge line, looking back over the herd as the sun starts to set, making sure everyone has kept up and not fallen behind (since I never, never drive so fast as to lose any of my herd). The good news is that the members seem to appreciate the ride and have emboldened me in the last twenty-four hours to say that this little organizational experiment started twenty five years ago in Southern Utah has done good. This is where I was meant to be and this is where I will always be.