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"ROAD TRIPS" by THE OLD SQUID |
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"Road Trips" by The Old Squid
The Scent of a Ride
posted 11/09/02 But the sense of smell is tied not to logic, or survival, but to the core of our emotions and memories. To this day, I can't stand Tang orange drink due to some unfortunate experiences involving it and vodka during my freshman year in college! We knew that a "Screwdriver" was orange juice and vodka so we assumed that Tang powder added to the vodka was the same thing. Even now I shudder at the thought. For me, Fall is my favorite season for motorcycle rides and the sense of smell plays a big part in it. Fall is the burly season. The odors are strong and speak of laying up and putting by. The sharp smell of fields burning reminds me of the Willamette valley. Leaves are burnt and its not a death but a promise of what's to come, a pledge to spring. All seasons have their smells that I've cataloged over the years and miles in my two-wheeled world. Clover in the spring, rain on a hot summer road, the north wind in the winter. Two summers ago I passed through the epitaph of a skunk on a ride through California. Five days gone and he lingered on the night air, fading a little more each day. We don't have skunks on the islands but I miss them. You have to admire an animal with such a killer defense that he can wear a candy-ass stripped coat and not feel that his masculinity is challenged! Most animals only mess with skunk once. This is of course his undoing as, trusting his defenses, he waddles across the road and does not hurry from metal death tearing the night air. You wouldn't get these experiences as well in a car. Even with the windows down, the smells and hence the memories are diluted. The other senses overcome the nose. The radio is on. The dash distracts the eyes. But on my motorcycle, the odors are riffled below my nose like a deck of cards. Sometimes too fast for a memory so all I have is just the memory of a memory to gnaw at the edge of my awareness. In a city or industrial area, the smells are not always pleasant. Too strong. Too manmade. I race past old trucks and cars not because I want to be in front but because they burn so inefficiently that the raw gasoline smell is unpleasant! A few of our bumper stickered museum pieces run so rich that I swear ta gawd that I could turn off the fuel tap on the bike and it would run on the just fumes coming out of their tailpipes. "Tacoma" can probably conjure an olfactory memory or two for any local over 40 years old. Those of you who never experianced driving through Tacoma on a dark night when the mills were at full belch missed an experience. Of course not all city smells are bad. Pike Street Market is great. The brewery next to the freeway has gone from "interesting" with the beer smell to "delicious" with the coffee roasting. Like seasons, locations are scent mapped in my memory too. When I first moved to the islands. my Fearless Wife and I rented an old waterfront farmhouse on a dead end gravel road. I rode my old Harley to work and in June, as I passed the Wild Rose that grew along the way, the rose aroma would mix with the tide flats exposed to the young summer sun. For me, my memories of the islands will always be a mix of wild rose and low tide. This ride down a country road became part of the road map of my island memories. Hey, we don't all ride bikes but lets at least turn off the air conditioning and open the windows occasionally. Build your memories! |
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