Ducati Love

This guy, Joel, died, I am told in a phone call from Faith this afternoon. He had been sick and now she tells me he is dead. I only remember him from one occasion…no two, and if those two short meetings are any indication of his total character, I would have to conclude that he was a really nice guy.

The first time I met him was at a “Brotherhood” meeting that we had in Barry Sanel’s garage. “Barry Shows Us His Toys”, would have been a great title of the theme of the evening, because that is just what he did. The tour included his motorcycles and his riding mower that was covered with a sheetmetal cabin that made it look like a steam locomotive, and the old muscle car he has owned since he was 17. He showed us a slideshow of pictures of his motorcycle racing and Team —the yellow and brown, "Smokin’ Sanel Brothers YOO-HOO Motorbike Racers. He handed out YOO-HOOs and other soft drinks and we sat in his garage and shot the shit.

It was fun.

Joel was there. He was not a member of the brotherhood or, for that matter, the Temple. He came because Jerry (I think) knew he liked motorcycles and invited Joel to come to the ‘party’. Joel seemed to have a good time and I liked him immediately. We talked about riding and our bikes and when He told me about the Ducati he rode, I admitted that I had never ridden a Ducati. Without a bit of hesitation he invited me to go for a ride. We met a week or two later and when I got to his house He showed me his two, red, Ducati motor bikes, one of which he insisted I ride. I left my black F-650 and rode this sleek, fire-engine red, performance bike instead. What a thrill. When I got back from tearing up the back roads of Bear Mountain state park with this scalpel of a motorcycle and I got on my single cylinder Swiss Army Bike I felt as if I were riding on Barry’s riding mower made to look like a choo-choo train. It was all fun for both Joel and I. I admit that I don’t think I ever saw him again. I think of that ride all the time.

So here is to a Nice Guy! In my mind he’s riding a hot bike some great place now. The weather is grand and the roads are clean and curvy. Oh! And I hope it’s a red bike. He liked red.

I repent!
I give up my wicked ways.
I will illustrate everything I write
without benefit of wealth.
Just to show I've really changed,
I took this photograph myself!
(all rights reserved,
not to be used without permission.
Copyright
Patented
Cursed
A pox on all who use this
artistic representation
without paying me first
a million scadzillion dollars.)

Steal From Me

(for Joel-who wanted to know where the picture came from.)

Steal from me
The ideas are not mine
They are in my head
And gone
Quickly if I don’t use them,
Wisely,
And fast,
Than they are gone and past.
Or stuck in clay
Through heat
And under paint
In either case
Away.

Steal them from me
There are a million more out there.
Like fruit
In the air
To be picked
Or to fall through time
To other fertile soil.

I have food
And I am not worried
That it will run out
On the road.
I am never lost
It is only at the edge of sleep
Once each day
That I confront my weaknesses
And blink before it becomes light.
Steal from me—
It is alright.