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The Joys of Dissipation
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The Healing Power of a Solo Motorcycle Ride
Bill Stermer
Summer 2004
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The healing power of a solo motorcycle ride
This joke was making the Internet rounds a few years ago: A wife comes into the
hospital to visit her husband, Mort, who has just had surgery. They exchange a
meaningful glance and silently join hands. Painfully, Mort lowers his oxygen
mask and says, in a barely audible whisper, “You know, Mary, you were there when
I lost my business. You were there when I had that terrible accident. You were
there when our house burned down. And you’re here now that I’m so sick.” Mary’s
eyes well with tears, but Mort suddenly drops her hand and frowns.
“You know
something, Mary—I think you’re bad luck!”
Which is a funny way to lead into
something not so funny. I lost my mother a week ago. When I learned of it, I did
as I have in the past when something has gone terribly wrong in my life. I
grabbed my riding gear and rolled my bike down the driveway. Pulling on my
helmet seemed to crush all the worries and sadness into my skull. Then I started
the engine.
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