Since the tragic motorcycle accident involving Stanley and Laura Lynde this summer, feelings and thoughts have been festering in my gut. They were brought very clearly to the surface while driving to work recently, with the effect that I had to pull to the side of the road to regain normal breathing. Time to speak up.
The Williamsville/Depot Road running between Route 30 and Williamsville is a warped, ribbony affair. Smack in the middle of the curves, here comes a car crossing dead into mine, left wheel already 2 feet over the center line, with the driver obviously looking down between his hands at something held near the bottom of the steering wheel.
A couple of years ago, I blew up the motor on my maxi-scooter, a two-wheeled vehicle that I loved driving to Ottawa, Boston, wherever. It wasn’t a cheap machine.
Standing on the side of the road, waiting for the wrecker, with the memory of a hellish bike accident in Indiana, I simply took mental note. Usually when there is an incident involving a motorcycle, somebody is left lying in the road, broken and punctured.
I was hired to play music at an annual Halloween Party in New York this October. It got cancelled. The host’s brother was killed in a motorcycle accident.
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I’ve had my share of close calls, where people didn’t see me. I live a life of working with dangerous power tools; a lapse of attention means another trip to the emergency room, so I’ve got well developed attention.
It’s not enough.
I sold that bike for parts and never looked back.
I loved driving that scooter. I loved the scene down at Lynde Motorsports with the down-to-Earth bikers. I like quiet motorcycles.
But we’ve all seen the cars constantly veering all over the roads. Our culture is way too distracted and stressed out. It is a very bad time to be riding motorcycles, and I intend to deliver that message when I can.
I encourage people to stop riding and to encourage others to quit as well. Find other ways to experience freedom and expansion.
Meditation works pretty well for me.