A Biker's Rage

"Hi, my name is Gregory, and I have Road Rage."
"Hello Gregory."

I have learnt to control, or better phrased, "channel" road rage into a single intense stream of bad karma that can be targeted at any idiotic, incompetent, less-than-learner, turtle towing, two lane hogging, no-thank-you-when-I-let-you-in, no mirror using, no turn signal, motorcycle inconsiderate, piece of oilpan sediment, sludge in my tire, so-called driver out there.

I feel your pain. There is no escape from these sensory-deficient clowns out there. Except maybe in the jungle of Borneo. But then you have to watch out for crazy pygmies taking out your knees in their mud carts.

Yeah. Okay.

Anyway, I have been to driver's rehab when in was in good for nothing old US of A. Got stopped for speeding once (okay a few) too many times. So to school I went so that the judge wouldn't chop up my license and serve my driving habit a one year sentence on the sidewalks and buses.

In this driver's ed school the guy didn't try to lecture us. Instead we went to what has to be as close to a lime of a driver course as you can get without sitting in the back of John Q Law's cruiser and tossing him a doughnut. Ex-cop and professional comedian this guy was. He said just get mad, get angry. But don't get even. That means, no chasing, no blocking the next car to come, no finger up the tailpipe. But by all means feel free to have a conversation with the neanderthal's mother about how she could allow herself to let such a miscreant out of the house before learning the social graces of humanity. You'd be surprised at what some of them would say sitting right there in your passenger seat. Or worse yet, on the back of your bike.

As any shrink will tell you, the key is communication. You got to tell someone, even if it's yourself. Too bad you can't get to the source right away. Yelling after the car and shouting at my handle bar only distracts me from the other eighty-six thousand dipsticks on the road. But that doesn't mean it has to sit in you. Tell your hood ornament, your grill, your front wheel... They've been through a pretty rough ordeal. Ask the tires how they are if you might have skidded. Yeah, you may be upset about some jack in a Lexus who cut you off from the intersection at the last gas station, but now your whole damn car has to go to therapy just to back down your driveway tomorrow!

To put it all in perspective - put it in perspective. That one car length could save your life. You are still alive, uninjured and able to vent freely. They drive badly. It sucks they do it on your roads but as far as you care... they drive BAD. Nothing more to do with you. I like to consider the other drivers as better targets for the traffic cops, or more hotheads. Almost like your personal decoys. Lessens their value, doesn't it - makes it hard to stay angry. Also you look out for people like them which makes you more aware: it makes the drive a game of strategy rather than one of chance. And in the end, wouldn't you prefer to be the one in control?

I love to ride. I am a great rider, any of my friends will tell you. But they will also say he's a crazy maniac (that's right, a "crazy maniac"), moves like he's on the closed course movie set and a whole heap of other "compliments". Yet no one complains or is afraid for their safety anymore. I love to ride and want to do so for a long time, so I had to become less of Mr. Wheeler and more of Mr. Driver. I used to rant and rage and chase people who did bad drives. What has that got me? Nothing but bad looks and fear (of my, not by me mind you). Not worth it. I like the thank you's and little waves a whole lot more. I love to ride and the whole point of riding is getting there, especially when "there" is the ride itself.

So what am I saying? Road rage has nothing to do with the other fart boxes out there. It's all inside. Let them carry their's and let them take your's when they do what they do. Sounds simple. All you have to do is not harbor it, believe that it is not in you to take the bait.

That, or survive a serious accident.

Either way, you learn.

All the right faces, in all the wrong places...

What anger is there more passionate than one born of love?
Finding the words to express either is as wrenching the beating heart from the chest.
In anger and love, your whole being feels
feels the pain
feels the exhilaration
simply feels too much
Have you ever felt too alive?
Do you know what too much feels like?
When was the last time your chest wanted to rip open
and grab the person standing right in front of you
the person you love to hate...
or hate to love.
Is love the antithesis of hate?
Or is love not hate's saboteur
tormentor
conspirator
... companion?
Why are we so easy to anger yet so hard to love? Why do we strive to be otherwise? What is there more dedicated than hate? What is there more fierce than love?

Pugly's Debut Show

Thanks to the good folks in the work space, we have two titles to open the show with. Hopefully many more come and this can take on a life of it's own.
Enjoy.

The Birth of Pugly

Here’s the concept:
You are the creative genius and I’m the medium. Give me a title and I’ll perform it in an illustration -it could be a line, a thought, a memory, or just one word
Send your titles as a comment with something along the lines of "Hey Pugly: [your title]" and I’ll have the Pride make a picture starring moi, inspired by you!

Let's have some fun!

Don't be put off if you don't see your idea right away, they're mostly only human.