'I can see by my watch,without taking my hand from the left grip of the cycle,that it is eight-thirty in the morning. The wind,even at sixty miles an hour,is warm and humid. When it's this hot and muggy at eight-thirty,I'm wondering what it's going to be like in the afternoon.'
With this, Robert M Pirsig sets off on his voyage of self discovery and redemption, across America,East to West.If ,like me, you grew up in the seventies,chances are you read 'Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance',one man's story of personal breakdown and his search for truth in the meaning of'quality' via the maintenance of his motor cycle. As he journey's across America, with his son,Christopher, on the back, you can almost feel and smell the heat coming off the prairies and the chill of the mountain air as they ride over the Rockies.
My odometer is clicking over way too fast these days, but I understand some of what he writes. The Zen like calm that comes with the stripping of a bicycle to bare bones, re building it and then riding, whisper quiet, around my neighbourhood.