Check Mate

I do not deal with emotion very well. It feels as if my strongest emotional response comes from trying to conceal my own feelings. Instilled as a young child, the 'men don't cry' mantra is still very alive inside me. Experiences in my life have helped me approach a median but still I fear. Anxiety threatens to take over when my emotional response is set off. I crave control because I think that control promotes safety and protection. I have become the tyrant over my own emotions. Emotional detachment has become a coping mechanism to prevent the pain of loss and abandonment.

Recently, someone close to me passed away. Perhaps odd to others but normal to me, I do not miss their presence. I cherish the memories that I have and nothing more. Thought I was strong, could handle the process. Anxiety and emotions in check. Then I see the widow of the deceased. Content, peace, and love is what I saw. At the same time, my composure was gone. Not detached but still in control was she. The feelings of shame and embarrassment did not come this time. I continue to progress, aware of my weaknesses. Franklin was right, death and taxes.

I almost can’t believe that for nearly 3 years I have owned a piece of American muscle, a Harley Davidson motorcycle. It’s no secret; it was a big deal when I got it. I probably rode it 50% to 75% of the time when I drove to work. It was fun, got great gas mileage, and allowed me to use the carpool lane on the freeway. I’m that guy rolling down the street wearing the technical jacket, full-face helmet, boots, and gloves. I would classify my driving style as ‘active lane management’. I’m a very defensive driver but at the same time not afraid to make decisions to get me into the lane of least resistance. It may not make total sense but it works for me.

So last April, the car that I was trading off with died. It was a wonderful old VW Jetta that we’d had for a long time; sad moment. I decided to take the plunge and become a hard core biker, relying on my bike 100% to get me to work. I’m happy to report that a year later I am still in one piece. Close calls were actually extremely limited; I credit ‘active lane management’ haha. Weather in the desert is optimal for this. I think I was sprinkled on twice, even though it was windy several days. Would I do it again? Yes, I still am. One day I should get another car but for now it’s just too hard to rationalize knowing that I can do without it.

Riding a motorcycle has been a longtime desire of mine. And I don’t regret one bit getting one. Of course, I have to throw a big “thanks” out to my wife who agreed to the whole arrangement. And I’ve tried to respect her trust here; no burn-outs, no wheelies, no red light racing. It’s been good to me. Some people have told me that I need a name, but I’m not set on anything. I’m open to suggestions if anyone has a good one. Liberator was recommended by a neighbor; not sure about that one. Anyway, as they say “Ride to Live, Live to Ride.”

The Wandering man walks a path, but it is not his own.
Down the road, moving; or does Earth pass underneath.
Days, weeks, months; continuous cycles of Light and Dark.
His goal, beyond the horizon; moving in tandem,
Never closer, never further apart; existing separately.

Solid rock erodes to dust; Nature controls and directs.
Nowhere to call home, no way to get back,
At the mercy of wind and the errant Traveler.

The last day closes; Sadness surrounds them.
Neither in control Nor where they wish.
Together, they give Purpose; meaning to Exist.
Their Journey not willed but a Journey the same.
No longer alone, as a pair they expire; in peace.