Saturday, October 16, 2010

Finding My Way


Here she is, the Hodaka Dirt Squirt.  The first motorcycle I fell in love with and the first bike I learned to ride.  Dave taught me to ride on his parent’s property. I practiced going round and round on a dirt loop running through the woods and on gravel roads and state land nearby.  It was a good place to practice.  Not a lot of traffic.  Lots of room to make mistakes.  The Dirt Squirt is in storage now in upper Michigan – hours and miles away, a lifetime really.


I love that Hodaka the same way I love hot chocolate after shoveling snow.  There’s a nostalgia to both- a thread that draws me back into earlier fond memories.  When I was a child, my father made an ice rink for my sister and I underneath the arms of the apple tree in the backyard.  The memories are snap shots:  sitting on the back landing while mom methodically tightened the laces of my skates, the clink-clink of skate blades against the cement floor of the garage, the swish-swish of snow pants as we made our way to the backyard.  We must have played for hours - but who knows, there is no concept of time in childhood.  We went back inside only after our mittens and knit scarves were wet with tiny balls of ice, our fingers red and numb, cheeks pink.  Mom greeted us at the door and watched as we labored out of snow clothes. Then we tramped downstairs together to sit in front of the fire and sip hot chocolate.

Late last night, I was working on my bike in the garage, replacing the spark plugs and air filter and changing the oil.  Light from the garage spilled out toward the house and was swallowed up by the night.  Now and again wind would rush in, swirling leaves about my feet, setting the tall grasses just outside rustling.  The darkness outside peered in, the smell of oil and Fall thick in the air.  I was on the floor under the bike waiting for the oil to drain when I looked up into the rafters and noticed the new wood secured to the joists to reinforce it.  I remembered the first thoughts of those repairs and the weekend spent making them.  How many years have passed since those rafters were replaced? How many hours have I spent here working on the bike?  How did all of those moments lead to this? Sometimes I find myself suspended between two worlds:  then and there, here and now. I’m amazed at how the mundane feels so powerful in some moments, metering out memories that stretch backward and forward.   All this I found from the measured care of my bike.

Those early days on the Hodaka were like those young days skating.  I was exploring a new world, a new life.  A childhood of Michigan Winters gave me many memories of skating and sledding and snow forts.  And early dirt riding has given me a life filled with new friends and long rides on new roads. Back then, there was someone beside me guiding me, keeping me warm and walking me through it. Today, it’s all self-lead, this caring for my bike, my home, my self.   Sometimes I think I’ve detoured because things didn’t turn out the way I thought they would, when life didn’t go the way I planned.  But now I think the plan was only an idea of how things should be rather than the only way to go.  So many unexpected places I’ve visited on this trip.  So many seasons marked on the bike.   One thing I never expected or planned was how many people would show up to fill the space of those who no longer travel with me.  My family now made of friends who lend tips and tools, time and talent as I continue to ride. 

To the many people who’ve helped me maintain both me and the bike, I give much thanks: to Aaron, Austin, Mike and Motorcycle Superstore for helping me get the new tires on; to Ashley for helping me change the spark plugs and clean the chain; to Joe and Dave for tips on changing the oil and filters; to Kate, Erica, Amy and Jen for helping me find my way.   

2 comments:

  1. Hey that's what friends are for! Congrats on getting the new tires and maitanence complete. Everytime new tires are installed it's always like a new bike...

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  2. I am reminded of the incredible feeling of freedom I had with my first bikes. I think that was really what I loved about riding. It's different now though, I don't get that like I used to. Boating to has given me that freedom to some extent. I think that it's not about the freedom to travel as much as it's about being able to free yourself from the mundane, the responsibilities and pressures we carry with us every day. Love your writing Lisa!

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