Sometimes I have these moments of revelation. They almost always involve truths about me personally, but I suspect, being an average guy, that they apply to a lot of us as well. I had this particular epiphany while riding home from picking up my Harley from winter storage. I simply couldn’t peel the internal smile off my brain. I say off my brain because you definitely want to limit opening your mouth while riding if you don’t want to supplement your diet with any extra protein of the insectoid persuasion. Some lessons are learned the hard way. Besides, riding around with an idiotic smile is counter to the stoic, badass image one traditionally goes for when riding a Harley. This leads me to my point: the iniquities of overweening self-image.
While I was riding I felt great. Here I was riding this kick ass Harley that almost without exception I get comments on whenever I stop somewhere. It was a beautiful, abnormally warm April day; perfect for riding. But, there was just something missing. It took me a kilometer or two, until I realized what I was missing was music. Not just any music, however, but music that defined ME at this particular moment; the soundtrack to the movie that is my life. At that moment I was almost thinking of my ride in editorial cuts, shooting angles of a camera, and, yes, what music would go with this shot. What would look and sound the coolest?
I laughed at myself (again, laughter of the closed-mouth variety), but, at the same time, I was slightly disconcerted. Did I have such low self-esteem, or was I so vain that I needed to fantasize that people would see me in as cool a way as possible? Did my life NEED a soundtrack to hammer home how people should see and feel about me? Last I checked, though, there aren’t giant speakers hovering in the sky above me playing such music.
For example, how often have we disparaged the “punk” kid in his tricked-out Honda Civic pumping 1000 watts through the subwoofers in his trunk? We all have, of course, but to that kid he is the coolest thing rolling at that moment. His music, his ride, his style is unmatched. To him, it’s like he’s in a movie and we’re all just watching him. Little does he know that while the music sounds great in the car completing the illusion, outside his license plate is buzzing like a steroidal hornet from the bass and he is annoying us all as well as the hot chick on the corner he’s trying to get notice him. Some might call this the hubris of youth, and they’d be right, except about the youth part. We often mock such displays as if we were, or are, somehow above it. Let me tell you, we were all like that in one way or another and we continue to exhibit it to greater or lesser degrees. How many of us want a bigger house, a nicer car, a higher definition TV, a fancier wardrobe, etc, etc, etc… Do we want these things because they will help us survive? Of course not. Many of the things in our lives are related to how we perceive ourselves, or, rather, how we want others to perceive us. It’s like a corruption of our survival instinct; somehow our very well-being depends on how we are perceived by others. It’s pervasive these days and few are innocent of its wiles. Society seems to have given up all pretenses of substance and surrendered to what Creem magazine editor, Lester Bangs, in the movie Almost Famous calls the “Industry of Cool”.
For me personally, I will tell anyone who asks that I love my Harley for esthetic and historical reasons, which is true. I definitely find them to be beautiful machines that are the progenitors for every other motorcycle brand that exists. But, also, what I wouldn’t admit until now (but may have been evident anyway), is that I love my motorcycle because of the darker, more sinister connotations Harley has historically manifested as a brand: A sense of unfettering from societal restraints, intimidation, and aggression. It is for the same reasons that I have always listened to heavy metal. I needed the aggression it invoked in me to quell my own insecurities in dealing with life in general. All I can say is thankfully I had a brain in my head, a good grounding in morality from my parents, good friends during my teen years, and healthy outlets for my hormonally enhanced wildness such as sports, because I can completely see how some kids who perhaps don’t have some of these things can take a dark and tragic path through life. I’m sure a psychologist could have a field day with many of us. But, I don’t need a professional to know where all this stems from for me. I have self-analyzed myself to death countless times in my life. I think I have a pretty good grasp of where the current me came from, both good and bad.
The point is, we all have our insecurities and demons that we often compensate for by building a facade of “cool” or “danger” or whatever mitigates that which we feel we lack in ourselves. Perhaps that is why we, as a society, are in such dire straits and why such rampant, detrimental consumerism has thrived. There is always something to buy that will assuage our lack of self-esteem. We seem to be losing, or perhaps have already lost, much of our sense of altruism and fallen too much a slave to our egos. Got a problem? Don’t deal with it. Buy a new suit and hit play on your iPod.
Surely the next scene of this movie, accompanied by a relevant John Mayer song, will redeem you.
