Right now I’m riding Honey Badger. The wheels of the internet run without me. Software was instructed and left to its own resources. I’m surely out of cell reception, there isn’t AC power anywhere near my planned camp location, and my SpotX is off unless I need it.
Honey Badger is my cheap little Yamaha dirt bike. I use it for “mechanized hiking” and to remind myself nature heals the soul of man. The latter is key! I’m too sane and the world too mad to be overly separated from nature.
Just look around. The shrieking freaks that pester us feed on each other and attention. Like a toddler, they need a time out. Sit them by a campfire in the moonlight. Leave them far from social media. Let them spend the night in a tent… all alone.
Part of modern madness is herd mentality. Most people have never been alone with themselves. The nutters can’t even unplug from social media. If they spent time where there’s no audience for their performative bullshit they might see a new world. They might sort themselves out. At the very least we could ignore them.
I’ll set up base camp somewhere random; all I really need is room for my truck and tent. Add a bottle of whiskey, a mellow fire, and a soft cot and I feel like a king.
Sufficient becomes luxurious if your needs are simple.
From camp, Honey Badger and I will launch simple unplanned bouts of adventure. We wander aimlessly. (The best kind of wandering!)
It doesn’t matter where we go, only that we went; the whole damn planet is gorgeous. Haven’t you noticed? Wherever people aren’t, that’s where Honey Badger wants to be. Who am I to argue? I triple check my gear, hold on for dear life, and let my tough little machine roll itself up, through, into, or around just about anything.
“We got this.” The bike says. And it’s true.
I’m not the only one to harness the magic spell of a motorcycle. I urge you to read Don’t Forget To Remember, by Eric Peters:
Like many, I sometimes get bogged down and tied up in work and other things that have a tendency to make you forget about the important things. These are the things you’ll look back on fondly one day – and which you’ll regret not having done more of at the end of your days.
. . .
Life and stress creeps up on you, like roadside Kudzu. Your intentions are good. We’ll ride this weekend. But then the weekend comes – and the grass needs to be cut, the kids have practice or (as in my case) the coop needs to built, plans need to be considered as regards the siting of the greenhouse. There is always something – or so it weighs on you – and it gets worse as you get older, in part because you get older.
. . .
We gave her a good workout – and got worked out, ourselves. Ivermectin may cure the ‘Rona, but an hour in the saddle heals the soul.