Monday, November 16, 2009

Where am I?

You would think the job of a writer or editor at a motorcycle magazine, would be the ideal job. I remember when I used to read Rip's Run in Easyriders. I used to think Rip had the best job in the world. Ride around the country on a motorcycle, meet lots of great people, have adventures and get paid for it.
But is it really?
Having Joe (who is managaing editor at American Iron) staying here with us, was an eye opener. You would think the managing editor of the largest circulation m/c magazine in the world would be the best job there is. And in many ways it is. Joe gets to ride all kinds of bikes. Testing bikes for nearly every American m/c company. Trying out new riding gear. Everyone wants to be his friend and get favor with the magazine.
I've known Joe a long time. He is one of the funniest people I know, always making me laugh my ass off. Actually I have more fun with Joe than almost anyone else. His way off looking at the world and the people in it, is priceless. He has this lightning fast wit, and zaps people with it, so fast, they don't even know exactly what happened.

But it seems like Joe is on the road constantly. Home life? Sure, there is that, if you only want to be there half the time. And that's great, if you don't have too much of a life at home. Like what if you have kids, or pets or a spouse?
I had a chance to teach airbrush classes and make better $$ than I do in the shop. I turned it down. I like my mornings here at the house. Waking up and going to work. Work being a mere 15 steps from the back door. I like my routine, seeing the sun pass across the sky, the afternoon sunshine streaming through the hardwoods in the back. Spending weekends with my godsons, watching them grow.

It seems everything is a tradeoff. No easy way. No perfect life.

And those days I spent wishing I had Rip's life? Those were the years I lived on Connecticut River in a 200 yr old farmhouse. I'd wander the riverbanks, soaking up the essence of the day. And I wouldn't trade those priceless days on the river for anything. Of course at the time, no way did I see it that way. I wanted to be Rip, on the 2 wheeled road to adventure.

Maybe most of us are where we are supposed to be. Joe riding Indians in the Western Mts, sizing the the strengths and weakness of their motorcycles. Jim wandering around The Chopper Farm, dreaming up the next killer custom sportster build, David insulating the sporty shed, the bratty siamese cat lazing on the porch. The dog protecting the yard from rogue squirrels and me: doing drawings with Photoshop while the sunlight streams through the incredible fall colors of the backyard hardwoods, the doors to the studio open, the warm breeze drifting through.

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