meaning. there is so much meaning in it that i cannot begin to write what it means to me. i try, and fail, countless times. it is a motorbike- plastic on the outside; aluminum, steel, titanium and composites thereof on the inside. she is it. “She”, because she is a she; She is my she. she is a motorbike, any attempt to write about her is mostly in vain.
after being away from her, we are together again. She & I. Today was spent close to home: replacing the burnt-low beam, ordering brake pads, and riding to the ocean, air snowing with poplar cotton. air warm with ocean breeze.
i attempt to write to you about the meaning, but I’m lost, and cannot convey much. Ted Simon on his 1973 Triumph Tiger :
The movement has a complex rhythm with many pulses beating simultaneously. Underlying it is the engine with its subtle blend of sounds, eighty explosions a second, cams on push rods, push rods on tappets, rockers on valve stems, valves on seats, ball bearings revolving and racing, cogs meshing and thrashing in oil, oil pumps throbbing, gases hissing, chains whipping over sprockets, all this frenzy of metal in motion, amazing that it can last for even a minute, yet it will have to function for thousands of hours to take me round and home again.
Through all these pulses blending and blurring I seem to hear a slow and steady beat, moving up and down, up and down, three semi-tones apart, a second up, a second down; as I listen it grows clearer, unmistakable. Is it there, or am I inventing it? Is it the pulse of my own body intercepting the sound, modifying it with my bloodstream? Try as I will, I hear no other pulse, no other pitch.
Ted Simon, Jupiter’s Travels (1979)