Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Nature's veil

 I'm pretty sure this morning was the first time it happened this year.  It was certainly my first time.

I've always loved the fog.  There's something mystical and enchanting about it.  It's like the first snowfall.  It drapes familiar landscapes in a soothing ethereal veil and feeds the imagination.
Riding through fog is not quite as enchanting as strolling through it.

Tiny pearls of moisture coat my visor.  The solution is the silicone squeegee on the left index finger of my Icon Patrol gauntlet.  A wipe or two and I can see clearly.  I can go back to gliding through my veiled commute.
Siri seems to understand the mood of my commutes.  This morning she played music that, for the most part, fit the mood like the legendary glove.  Should that be worrisome?  Of course it's a simple coincidence.  "Shuffle my music please Siri."  "Playing your songs, shuffled."

But is she really shuffling my songs?  Yes of course my iPhone is shuffling my songs.   But it isn't purely random.  It never is.  Occasionally a song plays that doesn't fit.  Like Emily Claire Barlow who wanted to sing me a Christmas tune this morning.  The Sena is brilliantly designed.  Even with my gauntlet, skipping to the next tune is effortless.  No doubt the iPhone's shuffling algorithm interprets my skipping the song, and alters the shuffle.  At least that's the way it seems.  I would design it that way for sure.  I'm fairly certain Apple is smarter than me.  So they must have figured that out.

Of course this is precisely the kind of enjoyable little meandering debate that Google could solve in a heartbeat.  This morning I prefer the mystery.  It fits right in with the foggy commute.

Friday, September 19, 2014

Full of surprises

You come to expect how people will react, what they'll do.

The longer you live, the more people you meet, the more confident you become in knowing what to expect. Jaded is kind of the right word to describe it, but unfortunately it has a pejorative flavour that doesn't fit at all here.

Occasionally you meet a flamboyant person who surprises, but then you realize that they're flamboyant, and the initial shimmer of difference fades as you pigeonhole them. Once flamboyant, regularly flamboyant, they're just flamboyant. That's how it is.

Quite often I accused Bob of being a wizard. I meant that in the Obewan Kenobe, Merlin, Gandolf tradition. OK, I don't believe in pixie dust, or in the 'Poof! I'm here, now I'm not, now I'm here', vein of common wizardry.

Bob could always surprise me. You thought you had his measure, and then he'd surprise you. In a good way. Well... I have to say that his most recent and final surprise was breathtaking, though not in a good way. Suffice to say, he outdid himself. I'll bet he surprised himself.

There's a lesson here. We should all be full of good surprises.

I am also fascinated by presence.

That's not to say I'm any good at it myself.

People who have it are a source of wonder. They are a precious few, and they're far between. You know it when you feel it. I think that what passed in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance for sainthood, was mostly presence in good people. The aura that is represented by the halo is the best way to picture it.

I hasten to add that people with presence are not by any means all saints. Presence cuts both ways. I'm reasonably sure Nero had presence.

People with presence surprise you, because it's so rare. Yet, like the flamboyant individual, while the aura can and does wax and wane, presence is usually, well, present. People who are full of surprises, in a good way, are rarer still.

If you strive to be an exceptionally good human being, strive for presence, and strive to be full of good surprises.

The first step is to listen, to be aware of others' needs and desires. It's not about me, it's about you. The next step is to fulfill a need, grant a wish. Every now and then will do. Be a gift to your family and friends. Be a gift to the people you meet.

It's hard, I'm not good at it. I wish I had presence, I'd like to be a wizard.

I'm very privileged because I've known people with presence (Henry, Pierre, Red) and also a wizard or three (Margaret, Bernard, Bob).

The world needs many more good wizards with presence.

I think I know where the path starts.

Can I take it?

Can you?

Monday, September 15, 2014

A loving tribute to a great man, Bob Leong


The account of Bob's passing struck me hard. It was like a sudden blast of emptiness that hit me with overwhelming force and left a void where once there was Bob.

Like many in Bob's vast extended family, I met Bob through the internet. He reached out to me through my blog. First a comment, then an e-mail, then a phone call, and so it went.
Bob infused my blogging experience with life. Vibrant, compelling, gritty, amazing, adventurous, life. When I just wanted to get together for coffee or lunch, Bob seized the day, two days in fact, and squeezed out two amazing mind-blowing days of moto-friendship that paid dividends I could never have imagined.
But wait, there was more, so very much more. I found myself, alone, in a borrowed tent, in Bellafonte Pennsylvania, waking to the sound of songbirds and peacocks. Magic. I was there because Bob asked me to meet him there. So I went.

Bob invited me to share slices of his life. So I invited him to share slices of mine. I visited his home, I met Yvonne and his kids. He spent a few nights in my home. He met Susan and our kids. Susan, Yvonne, Bob and I had dinner in Vancouver, and breakfast on another occasion.

More than anything else, I was blessed to ride with Bob. Bob blessed my life in a small but deeply marking way.

Bob was truly one of the kindest, most gentle, most generous people I have met. Most importantly, he gave of himself. He made things happen.

None of this came easily to Bob. He was candid about the challenges he faced as a child. Challenges no child should face. Many of us might have fared worse in similar circumstances.

How Bob will be missed.

Now is the time for tributes. To sing the praises of one who touched our lives. A fellow being who lived life the way life should be lived. With love, generosity, kindness, and courage.

Safe travels Bob. You left this life the way only the very best do. Doing what you loved, living an adventure, in the company of your loving wife.

Bob Leong

I just got word that Bob Leong passed away in his sleep in Nashville.

My very deepest sympathies to Yvonne and his children.

Bob touched us very deeply.  This is difficult beyond words.

There will be more to say, but not now.

Saturday, September 13, 2014

Banff: from the ridiculous to the sublime

There was no moto-component, unless the silly souvenir in the shop window in Banff counts.

Sharing the impossible beauty we witnessed just a few short weeks ago seems like the appropriate way to go.

From Vancouver...
To Kelowna...
To Banff...
The scenery went from nice, to stunning, and on to spectacular.

The only possible conclusion is that travel is its own reward.

Friday, September 12, 2014

Rider profile: Bill Breen

Name: Bill Breen
Find me on Earth: New York City, NY
Find me online: Not yet
Interview Date: Friday, September 12, 2014
Interview Location: Old Montreal
Leaving NYC for Montreal, September 10, 2014 - © Bill Breen
Grandkids on Mona - © Bill Breen
Scootcommute: When did you start riding, how old were you?

Bill: I had a Ducati 250 back in the dark ages and then I was a cager for oh forty years;

Scootcommute: How many motorbikes have you owned?

Bill: Two.

Scootcommute:
What is your current bike, and is the current bike your favorite?

Bill: A 2012 Vespa 300GTSie in blue with a full windshield.  I bought it new and just turned over 10,000 miles.The Vespa is definitely my favorite.

Scootcommute:
Talk to me about the most challenging riding skill you learned.

Bill: Challenging? Well, it was a little stupid but I broke Mona in [ed.: Bill means his bike] on a ride from NYC to Charlotte NC to see the grandkids. I found myself in a mountain rainstorm in West Virginia  doing sixty on an interstate. Downhill. I hadn't ridden a two-wheeler since the '60's. Yes, I'd say it was challenging.

Scootcommute: Are you a moto-commuter, a tourer, or a fair weather rider?

Bill:  I ride year round, weather-permitting (and by that I mean no snow or ice on the streets - any other time is good). We don't have a car in NYC and we use Zipcar when we really need one. I do most of the groceries and chores and whatever else needs doing.

Scootcommute:
Are you a solitary rider? How about riding in a group?

Bill:  I'm mostly solitary, but I wave to Harley guys---they're usually the only ones who wave back.

Scootcommute:
I dare you to share an awkward or embarrassing riding moment.

Bill:  I almost flunked my test! A figure eight in a tight space just about did me in.

Scootcommute:
What is the best place your bike has taken you?

Bill: The Blue Ridge Parkway in Virginia and North Carolina on my way to see the grandkids.  Stunning scenery. Just bring extra gas because gas stations are in short supply.

Scootcommute: Tell me why you ride.

Bill: Jeez, not enough room here.

Scootcommute: If I could grant you one riding wish, what would it be?

Bill: That Elizabeth would retire and get a Vespa.
_____________________________

Change of pace

We are blessed. I am blessed.

Let me explain.

In the past few weeks we have been to Vancouver, Kelowna, Banff, and Toronto. Home has been the exception, almost. That's how it feels.

This week, Vancouver has come to us. Andrew and Anuschka are with us, and Anuschka's parents are here as well.

Tonight Susan and I get to meet Bill and Elizabeth. Bill is a fellow Vespa addict who rode in Wednesday from his home in New York City (yes, on his Vespa GTS.  Elizabeth flew in).

In the course of all the travel and visiting, we have enjoyed amazing food and wine in some wonderful places, and we're not done.

Add to this the privilege I have enjoyed of meeting and conversing candidly with a handful of people who are luminary giants in corporate governance in Canada.

On a more gritty level, I also stripped down a Vespa GTS, fixed the cooling system, and put it back together. Oh, and I installed two brand new doors in the house, and helped my son Jonathan move into his new house in Toronto.

Yesterday we ran short of vehicles. Rain squelched the scoot commute, and Andrew and Anuschka needed the Civic.

That is how I  came to take the train. The train has its pleasures too. Like blogging my way to work in air-conditioned comfort.

A refreshing change of pace.

Alas, still no pictures here.  They will come, but I need to spend some time fetching them out of iPhoto and pasting them here.  When life starts hopping, blogging gets a short shrift.
The copyright in all text and photographs, except as noted, belongs to David Masse.