It’s probably odd that my lust for a cool motorcycle has not decreased since my dad’s death (from a motorcycle accident) 6 months ago. What’s more perplexing is that there’s a chance it has actually increased a little bit lately.
Let me explain a bit.
First of all, I can’t explain a bit. I can’t explain it. That’s what’s brought me to start writing this post. Exploring the possible explanations in writing. But let me clarify what background points I can. I miss my dad a lot. I think about him often. I changed my facebook profile picture to an old teenage photo of him because I like glancing at it several times a day. He reminds me why I am who I am, and it’s fun to realize how much we have in common. Even though he passed away on his bike, there’s always been something about riding that I felt connected me to him, even years ago. The irony now probably tortures my mom.
I bet some of my psychologist/therapist readers are having a hay day with the theory that I lust after motorcycles because of his accident. Although I admit that I do not understand all of the inner workings of the sub-psyche, I honestly believe (and hope) that this isn’t rooted in, or even related to, a subconscious self-destructive tendency. My quest for the perfect motorcycle for me is nothing new. But it’s still surprising me that it has not diminished in the slightest since suddenly losing my dad. In defense of my sanity, any motorcycle lusting boy will back me up on the fact that motorcycle lust always spikes when the weather warms up - spring and early summer. This is where we are now. Coming up on Memorial Day this weekend. This is textbook. I am not sick. (Right?)
I’ll further clarify that I am not in the financial position to buy a bike anytime soon anyway. In case you were wondering if I was about go out and act on my lust.
Even if I were in the financial position, it’s too soon. My mom would say that any day is too soon, and I’d be lying if I denied that this lingering knowledge will keep me far away from ownership for quite a while. I ache for her, and can’t bring myself to even be misinterpreted as disrespecting her feelings by going out and getting a bike anytime soon. Or maybe as long as she’s alive, which I suspect and hope will be a long, long time.
I’ll further clarify that when I say I lust after a motorcycle, it’s not just any motorcycle. It’s a very specific style that makes me drool. Somewhere around the vicinity of this. These are relatively tame and practical death machines. Yes, I know I just wrote “tame and practical death machines.” That’s why I also wrote “relatively.”
So, I’m not sure where I’ve landed with this exploration, but I’m glad we had this talk. I’m going to go get in my broken air conditioning, “check engine” lit, relatively gas guzzling 5-passenger car all by myself and drive home on this beautiful summer evening.