Floppy-looking wood Bow Tie o’ the Day isn’t the most comfortable bow tie critter I own. In fact, it’s downright heavy. Consequently, I wear it only if I’m going to be out of the house for an extremely short period of time. My new Hat o’ the Day is welcome to go anywhere with me for however long I’m tasking out in the world: ketchup goes with pretty much everything, at least according to what I observed of my dad’s eating habits. Ketchup is now newly memorable to me for its political significance as well.
As far as the topic of motorcycles goes, the truth is this: if it was important to me to own a motorcycle, I’d get a motorcycle. Suzanne couldn’t stop me, no matter how much she’d worry about my safety. I don’t need her permission to buy one, but I do factor in her feelings about the prospect of my riding around in civilization on a motorcycle. Suzanne is my ride-or-die, and I take it seriously that she’d prefer I ride inside a vehicle as opposed to on top of one. Besides, when we met in the early 80’s, I already had a motorcycle. She had no problem with my riding my red Kawasaki all over Utah back then. And I do not recall her ever saying NO to me when I said, “Hop on back and let’s go!” I guess I could say I’ve been there, and I’ve done that.
Of course, I owned a motorcycle at a time in our lives when we had no significant responsibilities on the planet. We had no pets. We didn’t own a house. Our careers had barely begun. There was no Rowan yet either. We could easily take risks because we didn’t really see them as risks. We were so young that we still felt naively invincible. Danger was theoretical: it didn’t seem like a realistic possibility. At this stage of our lives, we both have people, critters, and careers that depend on us. We also have this improbable “we” we’ve made with each other.
When Suzanne and I were together in the 80’s, we barely knew each other yet, and it is difficult to know the value someone holds for you when you aren’t even aware of your own intrinsic value. But now, after all these decades, we both know exactly what we will lose when one of us is the first to go. I’m not being morbid. I’m being practical. I will never play it so safe that I can’t continue to have amazing adventures, but I’m quite content to be more cautious now with what’s important to me. I know Suzanne and I have constructed something rare with each other, and I want it to endure on this plane—and on the plane that follows—as long as it possibly can, which I hope is forever. I am proudly and passionately protective of Suzanne, and I am also more careful with myself than I used to be. Old things, like bones and long relationships, can sometimes be more brittle than they appear. Rapt attention and continual care are where the lasting strength of weathered things resides. Tenderness is the forgiving muscle that will hold it all together.