Spyke and Mike

Here we are my BTR friends, the dog days of summer are upon us. It’s early in the season and we’ve already had four named hurricanes, one Sahara Sand blast, and the heat wave from hell cooking us while we’re still alive and trying to stay safe.

I tell Mike, ‘thanks dad! The outside shower you set up for me feels great! I use it several times a day and don’t even need your help. No more waiting for Mother Nature either. I just climb the pole and pull the string!

But you know who does need help is the performers of the world. Peopltors are now becoming the norm. Streaming in your living room is the new concert zone. The snack bar is your kitchen and there’s never a line for the bathroom unless you’ve got kids. Zoom was what your Nikon camera did back in the day. It’s become the new in your face app more popular than Facebook right now. Any event with a grouping of 6 or more has been condemned or cancelled. Ron did his shelter at home bike show and the response was off the chain.

That brought back memories of the times living up north when it was too cold and snowy to even move outside. You and your friends were having fun in basements and living rooms cleaning/polishing the scoots, posing on them, and taking old fashioned point and shoot pictures with real cameras. You know, the good ol’e days.

Mike breaks in, “ahhh yes, the good ol’e days. I remember them well and kinda miss those times, knowing back then Winter was only for a few months and Spring would be right around the corner.

As it has been for the world over, the covid-19 pandemic has made me reassess exactly what family means. The idea of the found family is a cultural artifact whose time has thoroughly come. Because so many of us are currently in the process of making or remaking our own.

Now, all the usual places of inspiration and entertainment are closed to us Spyke. We can’t attend a bike night, weekend event, or even a celebration of life. Not to mention the loss of sitting beside loved ones and friends at a restaurant, place of worship, or benefit without fear of infection.

This outlook has driven me inward. I’ve turned to writing, music, and art. During the pandemic, I am doing what I’ve always done but more intensely: finding new doorways to refresh my humor, knowledge, and beliefs in ourselves as human beings and creators on this planet. That understanding teaches me to live a life that has meaning. By accepting the responsibility, becoming aware, and acting upon it.

Inside my own little bird’s nest, I am now growing more aware. I’m paying closer attention to food sources and human interaction. I’m asking myself who’s bringing my grub and drinks? How are they being prepared? Who wants to come close to us and interact? Have they been tested? Are they asystematic or healthy? Will they be wearing protection? I hope they’re thinking and acting safely like me!”

I break Mike’s babbling and cackle, ‘dude, that bird’s nest is not your birdbrain, it’s reality. You’ve been living inward way too long and need to get outward! Let’s make like a snail and stick our heads out of our shells, leave the house, don crazy masks, and get some wind therapy. You need to put your knees under the dash, knuckles through the sunroof, my wings out the window, and the wheels of the truck rolling down the road.’ SPYKE