Philosophy, of the two-wheeled variety
Locked
Philosophy, of the two-wheeled variety
 
|
My style of philosophy, which is more the vein of Pirsig's Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: http://mc-canada-trip-2009.blogspot.com/
--Doug -- Doug Roberts [hidden email] [hidden email] 505-455-7333 - Office 505-670-8195 - Cell ============================================================ FRIAM Applied Complexity Group listserv Meets Fridays 9a-11:30 at cafe at St. John's College lectures, archives, unsubscribe, maps at http://www.friam.org |
Re: Philosophy, of the two-wheeled variety
|
|
Douglas Roberts wrote:
My style of philosophy, which is more the vein of Pirsig's Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: http://mc-canada-trip-2009.blogspot.com/Nicely done... makes me sorry I haven't replaced my last bike. All my long trips have been a lot less civilized! Welcome back to the funny farm! - Steve ============================================================ FRIAM Applied Complexity Group listserv Meets Fridays 9a-11:30 at cafe at St. John's College lectures, archives, unsubscribe, maps at http://www.friam.org |
Re: Philosophy, of the two-wheeled variety
|
|
The FRIAMers were philosophizing when I left, they're still philosophizing now that I'm back: some things do not appear to change very much.
Speaking of which, Pirsig really does present a lot of good observations in the areas of perception, world-view, perspective, and plain good common sense and the complete lack thereof. This passage in particular has always resonated with me. I know people like John, the BMW rider: So it is with John. I could preach the practical value and worth of motorcycle
maintenance till I'm hoarse and it would make not a dent in him. After two sentences
on the subject his eyes go completely glassy and he changes the conversation
or just looks away. He doesn't want to hear about it.
Sylvia is completely with him on this one. In fact she is even more emphatic. "It's just a whole other thing," she says, when in a thoughtful mood. "Like garbage," she says, when not. They want not to understand it. Not to hear about it. And the more I try to fathom what makes me enjoy mechanical work and them hate it so, the more elusive it becomes. The ultimate cause of this originally minor difference of opinion appears to run way, way deep. Inability on their part is ruled out immediately. They are both plenty bright enough. Either one of them could learn to tune a motorcycle in an hour and a half if they put their minds and energy to it, and the saving in money and worry and delay would repay them over and over again for their effort. And they know that. Or maybe they don't. I don't know. I never confront them with the question. It's better to just get along. But I remember once, outside a bar in Savage, Minnesota, on a really scorching day when I just about let loose. We'd been in the bar for about an hour and we came out and the machines were so hot you could hardly get on them. I'm started and ready to go and there's John pumping away on the kick starter. I smell gas like we're next to a refinery and tell him so, thinking this is enough to let him know his engine's flooded. "Yeah, I smell it too," he says and keeps on pumping. And he pumps and pumps and jumps and pumps and I don't know what more to say. Finally, he's really winded and sweat's running down all over his face and he can't pump anymore, and so I suggest taking out the plugs to dry them off and air out the cylinders while we go back for another beer. Oh my God no! He doesn't want to get into all that stuff. "All what stuff?" "Oh, getting out the tools and all that stuff. There's no reason why it shouldn't start. It's a brand-new machine and I'm following the instructions perfectly. See, it's right on full choke like they say." "Full choke!" "That's what the instructions say." "That's for when it's cold!" "Well, we've been in there for a half an hour at least," he says. It kind of shakes me up. "This is a hot day, John," I say. "And they take longer than that to cool off even on a freezing day." He scratches his head. "Well, why don't they tell you that in the instructions?" He opens the choke and on the second kick it starts. "I guess that was it," he says cheerfully. And the very next day we were out near the same area and it happened again. This time I was determined not to say a word, and when my wife urged me to go over and help him I shook my head. I told her that until he had a real felt need he was just going to resent help, so we went over and sat in the shade and waited. I noticed he was being superpolite to Sylvia while he pumped away, meaning he was furious, and she was looking over with a kind of "Ye gods!" look. If he had asked any single question I would have been over in a second to diagnose it, but he wouldn't. It must have been fifteen minutes before he got it started. Later we were drinking beer again over at Lake Minnetonka and everybody was talking around the table, but he was silent and I could see he was really tied up in knots inside. After all that time. Probably to get them untied he finally said, "You know -- when it doesn't start like that it just -- really turns me into a monster inside. I just get paranoic about it." This seemed to loosen him up, and he added, "They just had this one motorcycle, see? This lemon. And they didn't know what to do with it, whether to send it back to the factory or sell it for scrap or what -- and then at the last moment they saw me coming. With eighteen hundred bucks in my pocket. And they knew their problems were over." In a kind of singsong voice I repeated the plea for tuning and he tried hard to listen. He really tries hard sometimes. But then the block came again and he was off to the bar for another round for all of us and the subject was closed. He is not stubborn, not narrow-minded, not lazy, not stupid. There was just no easy explanation. So it was left up in the air, a kind of mystery that one gives up on because there is no sense in just going round and round and round looking for an answer that's not there. On Sat, Jul 11, 2009 at 9:41 AM, Steve Smith <[hidden email]> wrote:
-- Doug Roberts [hidden email] [hidden email] 505-455-7333 - Office 505-670-8195 - Cell ============================================================ FRIAM Applied Complexity Group listserv Meets Fridays 9a-11:30 at cafe at St. John's College lectures, archives, unsubscribe, maps at http://www.friam.org |
«
Return to Friam
|
1 view|%1 views
| Free forum by Nabble | Edit this page |