Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Daydreaming

 Disclaimer:  What follows is not a literary critique  of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance - I don't think I have that in me!  There will be NO metaphysical heavy lifting!  To do so would risk a cerebral aneurysm (i.e. brain strain!).  - Just a few personal observations.

Like many of you my age, I read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance (Robert Pirsig), for the first time soon after it was published in the early 70s.   I honestly picked up ZAMM expecting to learn some of the finer  - more Zen-like, if you will - details of motorcycle maintenance.  Boy, was I naive at 21!  After about 100 pages and incessant forward skimming, it was clear that this was NOT going to be a metaphysical substitute for a shop manual, as I had hoped it might be.  Instead (at the time) I found it to be a bit of a slow read about an old dude  - all twisted in knots over his job, his kid, his friends his mental state - who was sorting through these issues on a motorcycle trip.  While at the same time on a quest to capture the philosophical essence of what defines quality.   It was pretty heavy stuff for a 21 year old in the 70s.  If you recall, if you can still recall … we were all wrapped up in Vietnam, the Stones, Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix (already gone too soon), scoring good weed, and staying in school to avoid the draft.  So, at the time, Phaedrus (Persig's protagonist), was a bit more like Wolfman - our friend of a friend who was permanently altered, seemingly, from his drug excesses and trying to find his way back - rather than someone I could honestly relate to.

I recently reread ZAMM and, true to the original reading, I still found it to be a slow read (Note to self: my reading acuity is the suspect common denominator here!!).  But this time I could somewhat relate to Persig’s protagonist.   More on that in a moment…

This time I found the Sutherlands (Persig’s characters that epitomized the romantic view of life) a bit unrealistic, especially in a world that is WAY more technologically advanced than that of the 1970s… In part, what strikes me as so unlikely is that someone so seemingly fearful of technology, as defined by John and Sylvia Sutherland, would ever ride a motorcycle, let alone tour on one.   At the same time, in some small way, I could now also relate to John Sutherland.  Despite having my own technical background and some skill at general motorcycle maintenance, I share John's romantic view of the world.  A world where things work the way they are supposed to and all that's required is child-like trust that all is right with the world.  A world where we all get along, do the right thing, and be nice to each other!  As crazy as that sounds I honestly start each day with that (unrealistic) romanticized optimism for the world.  That is, until the first rude driver on my commute gives me good reason to think otherwise!  In addition, like John Sutherland, I own a BMW motorcycle and because of the manufacturer’s outstanding reputation, I expect it to run for thousands upon thousands of miles without any surprises.   And (unfortunately), like John, given the complexity of modern computer-controlled engines, I would be stuck by the side of the road if the CPU decided to go belly up on me, despite my better than average knowledge and skill at basic motorcycle maintenance. 

What struck me most about my re-reading of ZAMM is that I found myself having real empathy for Persig’s protagonist. Although he and I are very different - I’m a bit more about “don’t worry, be happy”  than I perceived Persig’s character to be -  there remains a soul connection that was hard to get my head around.   Thirty-eight years ago I was annoyed with the guy, today, I may have become that guy! … fundamentally all wrapped up over life, love, kids (grand kids!!), job, and the pursuit of….  well, something....  and using my motorcycle and the joy of riding as my tool, my soma, to unravel the knots in my soul.

But unlike Persig’s character, I don’t think of myself as needing to over analyze the physical relationship of the "man-bike-nature" or pursue the "metaphysics of quality" to solve my dilemmas.  For me, it’s more about riding, being out on the road, and the sensory overload accompanied by the endless daydreaming characteristic of any ride.

In any given minute, innumerable idle thoughts race across my mental visor in astounding continuity.  And sometimes, there is nothing at except the wind, the sounds, the smells.

“Lets see how long for a 6^th gear roll on from 60 to 80….. 1, 2, 3, 4… OK, too easy… lets see about 80 to 100…”

 "...what kind of mileage am I getting? … wow, only 41… OK I AM doing 80, lets see what I get at 60… cruise on, reset mileage on computer…"

"What did that hawk just pounce on?…snake!  Cool, love to see him try and eat that!!"

"... he really had some nerve ... who the hell does he think he is?... next time he comes in my office with that load of crap I'm tossing him out!"..."

"man, the new pipe sounds sweet!  lets get it up to 6000 and have a listen… OK, better downshift to get there under 90!... nice…"

"...here comes a tunnel… (downshift, throttle on) now lets get a good listen….. SWEET!"

"I've GOT to pee.... how far to next town?... too far... got to pull over... don't think about it..."

"... sweet truck! must be a '96 F350 single cab...diesel, oh, yeah!!"

"... it was 28 degree when we started out this morning and I had 36 psi in my rear tire, now it's 85... let's see pV=nRT...assuming constant volume... or can I?"

"...God, what a beautiful road! want to make sure we come back this way on our way home..."

And so it goes for miles and miles and miles.  The meditation of the road...it's intoxicating, addictive, and wonderfully therapeutic!  Just thinking of it makes me crave a fix!  -LD