The Soundtrack of Nature

Perhaps the reason that so many folks associate the word ‘freedom’ with riding is because the vast majority of motorcycles don’t have radios. The lack of these rather commonplace devices tends to force us as riders to not only witness what’s going on but also process the various sounds and sensations that surround us. By virtue of removing the usual noise suddenly you have no choice but to focus on the parts of life that you almost always miss out on during the normal everyday experience.

Coming down Saddlepeak Road this afternoon I was struck by how seldom in today’s world we take a moment to just listen. To just think. To just stand outside of the usual tech-ecosystem and be ourselves in an otherwise completely chaotic world.

Pulling off the road after a soul shuttering collection of left-right-lefts, I found it more than a bit ironic that while the 999 has no true built in audio system I was alternately humming and singing Aerosmith’s 1993 pop breakout “Livin’ On The Edge” for absolutely no discernible reason. Now I’m definitely not the world’s most extreme Aerosmith fan, far from it actually, but I am definitely a classic rock fan. I tend to lean towards more socially relevant song writing such as Springsteen, The Stones or The Beatles. But for some odd reason today this particular song had managed to work its way into my head and it stayed there for the vast majority of the ride.

How the track had gotten lodged in my consciousness is a bit beyond me. It’s not exactly a staple of my iPod playlist – yet somehow I felt like it was speaking directly to me and more importantly to the ride. As I climbed off the bike and lighted up a smoke it occurred to me that I had somehow managed to grossly appropriate the track for my own personal benefit. What it meant to me was not exactly what the song was about. I suspect we all do this sort of thing at some point with any type of art form – we watch it or listen to it or read it and then we process the work within the framework of our own lives. We find the ways in which it’s applicable to our daily experience in order to understand it and perhaps more importantly to understand ourselves. Yet in this case the meaning for the song was morphing. The last time I really remember listening it was back when I was first learning how to drive.

As I stood on the side of the road atop an amazingly quiet and an empty canyon it occurred to me that these days driving is no longer fun. It’s a tiring, annoying hassle that’s filled with a hectic dash and dart mentality. Perhaps this is merely an LA thing, I don’t really know, but it seems like the joy that once was driving has been replaced by a fairly regular aggravation. No matter where I go in this town it’s a sit and wait experience. Just heading to the grocery store is an extraordinary exercise in patience – and it’s only a few blocks away. Yet I can so clearly remember a time when driving wasn’t just fun, but it was also exciting. We didn’t know where the road would lead us – it was all just a grand adventure that was waiting for us to explore it. I don’t know that back then I’d have referred to driving as a personal passion, but it definitely was one of the primary foundations of my world.

Nowadays riding has obviously superseded driving as my personal outlet for this kind of adventurous spirit. And while I might have been humming a song today I’m rather thankful that the 999 doesn’t have a built in stereo system. I never would have considered myself a naturist in the many versions of my previous life, yet today I was very aware that one of the things that I truly enjoy about riding is the chance to become immersed within the world that surrounds us. Whether they’re canyons or country roads, having the opportunity to be able to take a minute to pause and reflect while listening to nothing but natures’ own soundtrack is an absolutely wonderful and special thing.