I had first heard about Robert M. Pirsig’s novel “Zen and
the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance” when my dad brought it up in a conversation
back in High School. I never really thought much of it, never really knew what
it was about. I find it ironic that I’m reading this novel my senior year for
my writing capstone class. As I began to read the book this week I soon found
immense imagery and deep counterintuitive meaning peppered throughout:
“You see things vacationing on a motorcycle in a way that is
completely different from any other. In a car you’re always in a compartment,
and because you’re used to it you don’t realize that through that car window
everything you see is just more TV. You’re a passive observer and it is all
moving by you boringly in a frame.”
This kind of flipped alternate perspective on life really
interested me. This made me think back to all the road trips I had taken in my
life, especially when I was younger. Sitting in the back of the car, trying not
to die of boredom, time seemed to stretch on forever and ever. I agree with
Pirsig that sitting inside a box that is a car completely shuts off the inside
people from the outside. I have always noticed how much more thrilling riding a
go-cart or even just riding a bike was when compared to driving or riding in a
car. This novel does a good job of capturing that basic difference. Somehow
when the wind is unblocked from pelting the face, a euphoric sense seems to
arise in many humans.
As I continue reading Pirsig’s novel I keep coming across
instances where I can look back on life and in ways parallel my life with my
father. This will be a fascinating read as I know I will be able to gain a lot
from the novel in terms of different past personal experiences.
I as well heard of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance in high school, however I read the book while I was on a semester at NOLS (National Outdoor Leadership School). While at NOLS we lived in the woods for about three months, having minimal contact with the outside world. It was a different way of life, it reminds me of how one would see things while on a motorcycle trip. I see society as the car, it keeps you trapped and forces you to stay inside the box, but when you are on a motorcycle trip or living out of a backpack, you are free. It’s a freedom that many people do not get to experience, its taking that leap of faith that brings you to a higher state. I feel like I’m doing a really bad job of explaining, but you really just have to try it, set yourself free.
ReplyDeleteI truly appreciate how you related this post back to your own experiences. I myself can empathize with that notable difference between driving a car versus riding a bike. My dad used to take me all across Montana on the back of his motorcycle, and it was a great childhood. During the novel, I loved how Pirsig notes the differences between seeing the landscape with an almost 360 degree view from the back of a motorcycle. In perspective towards writing, I think that we need that change of view sometimes to see things a little differently. By embracing this view, then the possibilities are endless when it comes to what can be achieved.
ReplyDeleteMy Dad terrified me on the back of his bike. I think I may have blocked a massive spill in the middle of some woods in Georgia when I was around 5 or 6 years old. I have a vague recollection of being on the back of the bike holding on for dear, sweet, fragile life as we were sweeping over massive lumps of earth at speeds man had never experienced before. The front wheel spent as much time in the air as it did on the ground. For the love of God, and blind by terror, I did not look at the rear wheel. Anyway, this description is an exaggeration of events, but captures the emotion of the vague memory. Regardless of what actually happened, I don't believe I would have gone across country on the back of my Dad's bike. Not willingly.
ReplyDeleteOn the other side, I grew up in the mountains. When I was a kid we spent just about every weekend camping. My Step-dad would have been a Hermit if he hadn't had a desperate need for beer money, so I know that feeling of being outside in the open living, even if briefly, free.
Thanks for the prompt of tying the reading back to personal experience.