January's Obsessions

Today, it's all about objects. No concessions will be made for prose in this entry; materialism is all we're going to be concerned with right now. This contempt for language has been brought about because I've been bitten by the bike bug again. Hopefully, Santa will drop a '38 Velocette under the tree this year. Despite the reality there's a good 2 more months of winter left, I'm looking to start my collection with something I can also ride...in the snow, no less. Nothing like doing donuts, with the potential to rack up thousands in damage. Yes, quite the insane act. But don't worry, for I'll have a nice Davida replica vintage helmet, which is probably only slightly better than the originals at protecting the dome. Imagine all the fun of careering around a corner on a machine made before Hitler came to power, drunk off Reisling and spitting bugs as the thump-thump of an aging clod of a motorcycle erases all of life's miseries. If you're anything like me, thinking about such things means long, sleepless nights.

Sometimes though, I wonder what might drive a man-that man being me- to obsess with reckless abandon such as I have. The sheer romanticism of piloting a 50+ year old machine to work and play is an undeniable draw. A '58 Mercedes Ponton is cheapish and reliable, albeit slow and "classic looking," if that isn't your thing. Same goes for say, a 1940s BMW motorcycle (thanks, Vintagent), '36 Century "gentleman's" raceboat, or rare civilian Auto Union (Audi) DKW NZ350. All of this vintageness means any old girl might be a prime target of thieves and curiosity seekers alike, not to mention requiring massive inputs of time, money, and blood sacrifice. Now since I have the good fortune of garages and backyards at my primary haunts, and my commute is roughly 3 or 4 miles, maybe it's time to revisit "driving dirty." That is, arriving at the office smelling like burnt oil and gasoline. As backup on the days when you can't get it to start, there's always the bicycle and backup metrorail or bus. Can't forget, lots of these bikes raced on methanol in their heyday, so converting to some type of moonshine or other eco-fuel shouldn't be too hard, right?

Reality aside, for the next two weeks I'll be devouring anything pre-war...photos, stories, catalogs, websites. A cool French site by the name of Sinenobilitate will help put me in the mood.