Motorcycles, Maintenance and Mongols - it took a decade to get a clue

 The Mongols are one of the biggest 1% Motorcycle clubs.This writing isn't about 

them, but it's a cool tie in and introduction to the piece, huh?

 

I've owned about a half dozen motorcycles, ridden half way across the country (Chicago to Denver a couple times - 500 miles a day was my top distance. I don't have an ass, at least not one to speak of and riding that far was quite a pain in the one I had) interactions with one club, having done a Ford Fellowship research paper on them. Readying myself to do the project I read Hell's Angels by Thompson and Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Repair by Pirsig. I Highly recommend both.

After a crowded Sunday morning bike club meeting taking up most of a section in the Hollywood, Florida Wag's Restaurant I took the last seat at the counter. Sitting at the counter, writing notes and sipping coffee I struck up a conversation with a large, queer looking nervous man to my left. His eyes followed our waitress, an early middle age, 40-30-40 goddess, #truckstopqueen

 

Because I'm me and none too stable I struck up a conversation with him. There's a lot to say about the conversation, but I'll be damned if I remember much of it at all. My new companion was as brilliant as he was tweaked. As a junior in college I knew enough to ask questions and some followup questions but not enough to do more than barely understand the answers.

Honestly I remember only two exchanges from our conversation -

I mentioned Allan Bloom's book Closing of the American Mind. Bloom was a prof at the University of Chicago and his latest book was the focus of a lot of anger from students as it was very conservative and traditional.

"You know," I said, "all my classmates hated Bloom's work. We thought he was an asshole."

"Bloom is an asshole! You are right to hate him! But you friend's hate him for the wrong reasons," my new friend replied. He never mentioned the right reasons.

I remembered our introduction at parting. I finished my coffee and stood up."I have to get now." I offered my hand and told him my name, first and last. 

Taking my hand he replied "And my name's Bob." 

"Bob what?" I asked. 

He glared and snapped at me "It's just BOB!" And with that our interactions were over.

It took me a decade plus before it came to me that I know who the fuck Just BOB was - it was Robert "Bob" Pirsig, the author of Zen and the Art of... He was in Florida researching his second book, Lila: An Inquiry into Morals. He was tweaky like his alter ego, Phaedrus (his split personality from Zen). And he hated Bloom because Bloom was his antagonist in the book, the professor who tried to sink him.

I can't prove any of this but it makes so much sense.

Oh, and I should at least try and tie the video link to this post. So here -

In the 1970's four of the most dangerous and predominant outlaw motorcycle gangs were the Hell's Angels, the Outlaws, the Pagans and the Mongols.

Ok, the knot on the tie is isn't tied very tight, but at least it's there.

 

 

Robert Pirsig and his son on board one bike or another. I don't believe

this is the bike ridden in the book as I think that was a BMW which has

an engine with cylinders sticking out of each side. Sadly, Pirsig's son

Chris committed suicide when he was a young man.