The first motorcycle dream I had was barely remembered, but I woke up pulling hard on the brake with my hand instead of using my foot. I’ve had driving dreams for years, but I can clearly remember that first time I woke up aware of operating a bike in my dreams. I can’t remember the context, but it was nice to know my subconscious was working over the details of riding as much as my conscious mind was.
The other day while home from work sick with the flu I woke up from a much more complex dream. In it I was trapped in a parking lot after trying all sorts of vehicular attempts to drive past customs in order to leave (I’d just been to The States, so perhaps that’s why I had borders on my mind).
I found the Concours sitting on some shipping containers at the back of the lot and suddenly I’m riding it like a trials bike, jumping down from one container to the next until I get down and am able to escape from the parking lot. Cars couldn’t get me out of there but my bike could!
Strangely, I can’t recall dreaming about the Ninja, though I spent a lot of time turning it blue again. Maybe the soul of the machine isn’t in the finish. I’ve spent a lot more time deep inside the Connie getting it road worthy, perhaps that time has endeared it to me. In any case, I feel a kinship to the Connie that I haven’t with the Ninja, which makes me look forward to the end of the cold even more.
I was originally thinking about where to get Kawasaki stickers once I’ve got it refinished, but now I’m thinking of finding some Corellian Engineering Corporation stickers and doing the Concours up in full Millennium Falcon style.
|From the documentary: Why We Ride|