Moto Karma Comes Around for The 31st Time

A year ago yesterday I turned thirty and at the time I could have sworn that the earth had indeed shaken. It felt like I had hit that next great big major milestone in life and I was convinced that I had come face to face with one of those quintessential moments when you just know that from this point forward nothing will be the same again. At the time the question felt so grand that I weighted myself down with heavy thoughts that revolved around one basic question, ‘Is this all there is to life?’

A year later that sentiment seems foolish at best.

Nothing so dramatic happened over the past twelve months that it forever altered the landscape of my life nor did turning thirty forcibly predetermine a set of choices or send me down a path I didn’t want to go down. Don’t get me wrong, in-between birthdays there’s been extreme ups and downs — but then there always are in life, that’s sort of the way it works…

As I’ve been running around this morning, I’ve been struck with the thought that the perception of age is a funny, funny thing. Looking back it seems I paid so much attention to those nameless faceless fully permeating major life milestones that society churns out that it never even dawned on me to question the magnitude of the moment for myself. Was I really feeling an immense moment or was I simply buying into the hype that surrounds big even numbered chapters in our lives? In retrospect if I’m honest, the Richter Scale barely fluttered in any real, tangible way. Instead I would submit that I created drama to fit the occasion.

After re-reading several of my posts from last July, I’m struck by how much mental energy I burned falling victim to the big 3-0. How many things I questioned, how much time I spent taking personal inventory on life and wondering ‘what comes next’, instead of simply enjoying where I’d gotten at that point in life. A year late I find myself struck by a sense of accomplishment and a feeling of ease for where life has lead me. Things aren’t perfectly clear at the moment, but they’re far more put together then dissembled and that strikes me as something worth remembering for when I hit thirty-five or forty.

The upshot of all the introspective personal upheaval last year was the decision to purchase a Ducati ST3. Close to four thousand miles later the bike has done nothing but reaffirm my belief that it’s a superior machine whose greatest fault wasn’t mechanical but rather marketing. It has done everything I’ve asked of it with a plume and successfully offered a worthy compliment to the 1098S that has allowed me to open up my personal riding vistas with far-flung trips that are honestly unfathomable to me on a full-blown sportbike (see Mesmerized by Majesty, Chapters of Life: LA to Carmel, and The Trip Home)…

Of course while I’ve enjoyed the ST3 immensely, truth be told I’m a sportbike guy at heart, so tomorrow MotorMilt and I are headed off to Buttonwillow with The Track Club folks to celebrate thirty-one years of growing up, getting wiser and continued foolishness… Oh, and his new F4 too

* This of course sets an interesting precedent as now both the 1098S and the F4 will have had their first break-in rides on tracks… Shshhhh don’t tell DNA