Some years ago, when I decided I wanted to join the brethren of two wheeled riders, almost no one in the world supported me. Rather, my desire was met with a fierce and enduring resistance on nearly every front. One person, someone I didn’t know particularly well, took the trouble to mail me a card, cheering me on when almost no one else would. I keep that card under my motorcycle seat, in the little pocket meant for the necessary insurance and registration papers, as a talisman of sorts.
Today, I’m adding something else to that spot. Sorting through the daily mail, I found yet another notice informing me I have to reapply for a job I’ve had for almost a decade, and an envelope with photos of me on the Ducati, accompanied by a handwritten letter and quotation so deadly accurate, my voice cracked as I read it aloud in the silent gloom of my house, shuttered against the heat of the day. How can someone I hardly know possibly see so deeply into my heart?
It feels almost mystical to have these thunderbolts coming, not from those closest to me, but from people and places far and wide. Would that I could be the person some people think I am!