By Jake ‘Edge’ Walker
I realized I was sitting on a milk crate, head hung low with an unknown part in my hand. As I looked up at the machine in front of me, I realized it was a ’64 Panhead Duo-Glide that had been stripped down to her ‘undies’. Fourteen inch ‘Apes’ graced the ‘glide’s front end and the ‘Pogo-post’ seat had been exchanged for a solo saddle and a ‘bitch-pad’ graced the rear fender with a minimalist touch. She was all flat black and stainless steel accented her bare-bones attitude.
The bike tried to draw my attention but I focused on myself and the long grey beard that grew from my face and hung almost to my waist. I reached up and felt for the long braid that was my ponytail. A smile stole across my face and I knew this was a dream, my dream. I was in my garage, this was my bike and then I realized that I didn’t have the money to replace the part in my hand.
A sense of hopelessness and anger washed over me as I gripped the mystery part to my chest and felt despair try to steal the very heart from me. Then I was carried away for a moment… memories of the last month riding her rolled unbidden through my awareness. I saw the ever-changing road, fragmented images of good friends and near-misses, laughing and guitar music, campfires and sleeping with the stars for a roof. In the morning, campfire coffee and fried sausage and eggs eaten from a paper plate with a Buck knife.
Memories that I had never experienced, food I had never eaten. Yet, they were as real as my life, as real as the bike in my garage right now. I looked up from the onslaught of the memory flood and glared again at the bike in front of me. She was an old Panhead, broke down right now but there were so many memories behind us that the thought of selling her or trading for a newer bike was unthinkable. Somehow I knew that I had upgraded the charging and ignition and had rebuilt her heart and tranny but little stuff would always need to be replaced and repaired. Such is the life of an older bike owner.
The last thing I acknowledged as I wound my way through the Dream World was that this was a real vision, a glimpse at one of the many Futures that awaited me. As I melded with the next dream, a sense of contentment followed me… acceptance and happiness followed the minor cursing at the broken part.
When I awoke the next morning I had no memory of the dream, places, people nor the bike. I continued on with my life, my friends and family occupied me and I was happy. Then, late one night as I was replacing a stubborn clutch lever (accompanied with liberal doses of swearing) I sat on a milk crate and stared at the bike in front of me. My mind slipped into neutral and a flood of memories rolled over me. I gasped with the weight and rapid progression as the ‘Vision’ washed over me.
When it was through, I wondered at what had just come to me in such a rush of feeling/images/knowledge. Visions of tomorrow color all our lives’, touch us in many ways while we live today. I have lived with this vision for thirty-plus years and it is as fresh as though it came to me yesterday. Yoda said “Always in motion, the future is.” May all of our Futures be in motion. Live, Love, Ride
Jake Edge Walker 01/17/2013
