TheBanyanTree: it's like cliff walking...

[Mike Pingleton]

Mary Oliver's bent is more to the natural world, but I think
motorcycles fit her verse quite nicely.  Have fun with your iron
horse, AB.  I see no need to tell you to 'be careful!'  :)

-Mike

On Sun, Oct 17, 2010 at 7:10 PM, Barbara Edlen <MountainWhisper at att.net> wrote:
> When we first moved to North Carolina and I discovered the cliffs at Pilot
> Mountain it was like a whole brand new beautifully decorated package had
> been presented to me as a gift for me to slowly open at my own pace. At
> first, every time I approached one of the cliffs my tummy would get that
> funny tickling sensation that lets you know you should be wary of what you
> are attempting. I perceive it as a healthy sense of fear that keeps you from
> being foolish, mixed with a quivering sense of excitement over a meeting a
> new challenge.
>
> Rappelling down the cliffs helped with familiarity and the sense that I
> could manage them in controlled circumstances. Finding secluded niches of my
> own where no one could disturb me was ample incentive to explore and step
> beyond my comfort zone in climbing out on one. Sitting with my feet dangling
> over the edge was at first a cause for tummy tickles, too. But the sense of
> freedom and the magnificently encompassing views, afforded me from my
> perches, quickly quieted any sense of hesitancy.
>
> I didn't even notice the exact point when hiking along the cliffs became
> comfortable and something I just did, with no more tummy tickles. Not until
> I took one of my Great Danes (Cissy) with me and her intrepid nature made me
> realize that 1) she is perpetually in gamboling puppy mode and not always
> the most graceful of creatures 2) one nudge from her (Danes like to lean on
> you a *lot* as a sign of affection) would be detrimental for both of us. It
> was a reality check. No cliff hiking with the Danes. Got it. Common sense
> reigns.
>
> Now, as I learn to handle my motorcycle, I am experiencing the tummy tickle
> sensation all over again. First, it was about getting down the steep curvy
> driveway without tipping over and looking like an idjit. Which I didn't. Oh
> no, I didn't tip it over until I was down the road in a neighbor's driveway
> (STOPPED, mind you) and trying to turn around. That's when I learned that I
> can't hold up 615 pounds of motorcycle and try to make a turn. Going uphill.
> On gravel. <sigh>
>
> I learned a couple more salient facts that day. Gravel is a bitch to turn a
> bike on, especially when you are just learning how to handle your new bike.
> I *knew* it was going to be a challenge, but I also learned that there are
> definite reasons for a lot of the safety gear. Boots with more traction make
> a huge difference. My left side presents me with challenges on some days
> more than others. Depending on it to handle all 615 pounds of bike on a hill
> is not a wise move, because gravity is not my friend. ;-) Now when I need to
> turn around while stopped, I contemplate my moves ahead of time. Where you
> look is indeed where your bike goes. The MSF instructors repeated that a
> gazillion times for a very good reason.
>
> The local roads are proving to be a great teaching arena and a lotta fun. On
> my first day, I kept practicing circles & figures 8's in a local church
> parking lot and also my "quick stops". I was making myself nuts trying to
> master all the slow speed stuff which is lots harder because motorcycles
> aren't intended to only go 5-10mph. Six hundred and fifteen pounds are
> indeed very HEAVY!
>
> Then I was talking to our neighbors (who are letting me park it in their
> garage since it's been kept inside before and God knows I don't want it to
> get cold or wet <g>). Anyway, they told me I was thinking too hard and
> practicing too much and to just go out on the road and have fun.
>
> So that's what I've been doing.
>
> The past few days have been an exhilarating joy and have confirmed why I've
> wanted a bike for what feels like forever.
>
> I *!LOVE!* it.
>
> I love the feel of taking a tight curve just right and I feel my weight
> shift down into my seat as I throttle up through the end of the curve. I
> grin so bigly when I downshift and hear the engine rumble like a big sleek
> cat.
>
> I get naysayers with so many of my dreams. I want a horse and geez, that got
> shot down with all kinds of warnings about how expensive, time-consuming,
> yada, yada, yada, they are. Sometimes people assume I am an idjit and I
> don't know why. I am so dayum (as Dee taught me to say) OCD, I research
> stuff to the nth degree. I will have a horse within the next few years. A
> friend has offered me a sweetheart of a mare and has also told me that I can
> have all the hay I want from his farm. All I need to do now is clear some
> land. I have another friend who can help with that. Last year he taught me
> the basics of driving his backhoe. But there's no way I can fell trees with
> it. I do know my limitations, even if I do sometimes push against them upon
> occasion.  And I do respect the experience, expertise and advice of many
> people in my life.
>
> There are risks with just about anything and with most things I am
> interested in, it seems. I just try to keep it all as manageable and as safe
> as I can and still not lose the tummy tickle, shivery sense of excitement
> that means something amazing is on my horizon.
>
> "When it's over, I want to say: all my life
> I was a bride married to amazement.
> I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
>
> When it is over, I don't want to wonder
> if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
> I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
> or full of argument.
>
> I don't want to end up simply having visited this world."
>
> — Mary Oliver
>
>