Go Not Quietly
 

Because the rain briefly let up, I rode the '51 Pan-Shovel down the canyon and across the Rio Grande to buy avocados for dinner. A young girl bagging the fruit looked at my leathers, the gauntlet gloves tucked into my belt, and my dusty boots:

"What kind of bike do you ride?"

"A 73-year-old Harley." She stared at me, slack-jawed, and blinked. "Well," I added, "my 53-year-old Triumph is currently on the stand."

She screwed up her face. "Why don't you get a new one?"

I looked at the line forming behind me. "It'd take a while to explain," I said, smiling at her, and headed for the door.



For anyone who has swung a leg over a Flathead, Knuckle, or Pan, the above will be a familiar sort of exchange--and I've read a fair amount about and tried to explain precisely why anyone would forgo a fuel-injected, computerized, near-zero maintenance wonder for a snorting, shivering machine which one has to kick to awaken, wrestle like a marauding bull, and massage at regular intervals (often with both hands) to keep happy.

But this evening I was rereading Emerson, "Man the Reformer," to flesh out a scene for my forthcoming, second novel "The Knight of Central Park," and ran across this passage--which I now wish I'd put to memory, if only to further confound the fugitive from high school manning the conveyor belt at Albertsons:

"...every man ought to stand in primary relations with the work of the world, ought to do it himself, and ought not to suffer the accident of having a purse in his pocket, or his having been bred to some dishonorable and injurious craft, to sever him from those duties; and for this reason, that labor is God's education; that he only is a sincere learner, he only can become a master, who learns the secrets of labor, and who by real cunning extorts from nature its scepter."

So, verily I say unto you, my wrench-turning Milwaukee brethren:



GO NOT QUIETLY



Go not quietly into the dark, but

Beat the drum and ride the beast as you will,

Wring it out and lean hard into the wind,

Lest your final faltering breath awaken

Neither memories nor dreams

Of a moonlit road breathlessly taken.

​

©2024, Joel Matthew Young

Cool story bro.

Similar to trying to explain to a non hunter how you can get enjoyment from getting up at 0 dark thirty, driving for a while, schlepping gear and decoys out to some body of water. Sitting in the rain, wind and snow hoping for a chance to shoot some ducks. They will never understand the enjoyment of watching your dog work, or the many beautiful sunrises you witness whether you see a duck or not. To each their own.
But we digress from the subject of Panheads.

Amen, and I think it's totally relevant.

https://cimg1.ibsrv.net/gimg/www.hdf...958d8d6f5a.jpg

Good looking dog.

Funny, I guess I have been reading JZ's posts long enough that I almost understood that quote.

Nice quote.