A World Upside Down – (Appended By the Writer on April 15th.)
Surreal, is hopefully a word that I don’t need to use too often, yet the last 24 hours have felt anything but normal. The world feels like it is on the verge of destroying itself, immersed in conflict that as everyday passes feels increasing normative, yet apocryphal in its possibilities.
The day started with being stranded on the side of a highway when the shift-assist on my bike fell apart. Fortunately I had the necessary tools to be able to essentially reinstall the linkage, while wondering how and why it failed. A fellow biker on a Harley stopped to help me put the linkage back together and supplied a necessary open-end wrench that wasn’t in my toolkit. Thanks Jason, whoever you are for the hand.
I arrived home just in time to hear that Iran had launched an attack on Israel with all the potential implications that having the middle-east go to war might imply. Fortunately, it appears we dodged another bullet with the nuclear clock ticking at 11:59:45.
Having listened to every conceivable outcome, it would seem that Israel will up the anti in short order by taking out Iran’s nuclear enrichment capability, but I’ll leave that for militarists to determine.
On Sunday, I took the following ride down to a motorcycle venue in the US. I haven’t been down in a few years actually, and on my last trip I spent most of it in the mountains by myself. The following event made me aware of what has changed since my last visit, for something surely has. If I were to describe it in one word, it would be trust. Conversation is harder, people are more polarized and wary. And unlike just a few years ago, you feel as though you’ve become instantly categorized by those you meet.
What seems to be being asked by others, is, ”Are you one of US or not?” I found this very short trip to be strange. I was as though I was visiting somewhere I’ve never been before. Someplace less inclusive, and more cold than I remember.
Last night, after an online conversation with someone I don’t know, I was told that my commentary, which was an observation, offended this individual, which surprised me, since as an ‘outsider’, a foreigner according to this individual, my opinion, not being American, is invalid. According to him, I’m not entitled to an opinion because I’m not a member of the tribe. I have no skin in the game, so to speak.
I tried, and failed, to make him aware that maybe, as an outsider my opinion was even more accurate, since I’m not affected directly and not a member of any ‘group’ from the US.
What I had wanted to say, and didn’t, because then I would have been characterized as some other sort of even less trustworthy member of a tribe, was that the show I attended clearly illustrated how the US has become segregated by politics, religion, guns and yes, tribes.
In any event, I didn’t.
Change is Real, and Trust, Hard to Find.
The morning was brisk with a temperature of 35 F., which by itself doesn’t pose a big problem, but once on the highway, the wind from the west must have been close to 40 mph, which made the ride a lot less fun. I made it to the border and quickly processed through with no issue, but if anything, the wind was worse than when I had left home.
Finally arriving in Grand Forks, I refueled and headed to the Alerus Center where the event was to be held. To my surprise, the show was essentially a show and shine event. There wasn’t one dealer with bikes on display except for Indian and Harley. You would have thought it was purely a show for Indian and Harley, even though on the floor there were some nice examples of older Hondas and Triumphs, all heavily modded.
While I enjoyed the show, it wasn’t what I thought the event was to be all about. My bad. But one other thing was on display as well, and it might not have been something that Americans would tune in to, because America’s culture is so invested in it, and that was a near reverance for military service and inclusion.
Note: If you’re easily upset by people making observations, then simply move on to another topic. This isn’t meant to anger. It’s meant to observe and understand what’s happening in and to the United States, particularly in relation to how groups of people find affinity.
It’s just an observation, and not an indictment, but there were at least six booths dedicated to members of the military who had served and there was more regalia than I’ve ever been aware of in the past surrounding membership, or exclusion. Every era had a booth, from Vietnam, to Afghanistan, from Iraq to combat veterans who had served in Syria. You might have mistook the audience for a military rally. The only other booth was for an Evangelical Motorcycle Group, whose message was a belief in God and the right to bear arms.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m a vet as well, but this year it just seemed more evident, more in your face, more strident. As I wandered down the aisles I wondered if this was now a permanent part of the political landscape?
Maybe it’s a sign of the times, but more than half of the bikes on display were dedicated to a military campaign or a specific war. The bikes had either emblems or statements in the form of a sticker or crest on them. And, I might note, it wasn’t just me who was aware of it.
I had an interesting discussion with a presenter who was a former Air Force Major retired. He said, “I wonder where the regular presenters are. It seems a bit different this year,” while pointing to the booths. I just nodded, seeing as I hadn’t been to the event in previous years.
The point of this is that one unique characterization was obvious. America has become a collection of tribes. Trust, is non existent, and what “tribe” you belong to is more important than anything else. Where people celebrated their ‘tribe’ in the past, they respected those who weren’t, but something ‘feels’ as though it’s changed.
I used to think that motorcyclists were a tribe. Not even close. That tribe has broken into a whole group of factions as well. I was sitting at a table in the center of the venue and another rider sat down on the opposite of the table. He saw my riding gear and said, ‘You ride a crotch rocket, don’t you?” with an air of contempt. I said, “No, I ride a sports tourer, and belong to two firefighter motorcycle groups,” which was obvious as the crest was clear. He then said, “Well, this event is really about cruising and being one of our kind.”
That comment took me by surprise. Now this is only one individual I understand but the underlying message was, “You really don’t belong here.”
Even the events’ security staff seemed on-edge as if anticipating something. Entering the arena had been easy enough, other than having to take off half of my motorcycle gear and being asked repeatedly if I was carrying either a weapon or knife. I carry a pack of Allan Keys for my motorcycle but had to open each key to illustrate they weren’t actually weapons. I was even asked why I was wearing ‘bullet-proof armor’. Really? While riding, yes, I wear armor, hardly bullet proof.
On the way out I went to my bike as two cops came over and asked me if I was with the ‘bikers’ whose bikes were now parked next to mine. I told them that when I parked, there were no bikes parked next to me. I took a moment to examine the bikes on my left and right, and discovered they belonged to the Hell’s Angels, no chapter evident.
I got on my bike and left, only to be chaperoned for about ten miles by a police cruiser. Maybe this was incidental, but it didn’t feel like it. As a former arson investigator you become a bit more situationally aware.
I stopped for a coffee and the cruiser finally left. After a bite I got back on the bike and headed North to the border, except when I arrived, both the Border Patrol and HIghway Patrol had the highway blocked. I rode up and was told to pull the bike over to the side, which I did. The highway trooper asked for my passport and asked a pile of questions related to the show in Grand Forks. It’s particularly interesting because I never mentioned to him that I was at the show. I asked if there was an issue, and was told no, nothing special. As I rode on to Canadian customs I noticed the two cruisers pick up the cones on the road, turn off their lights and leave.
I even asked the Canadian Border Services Agent if he had any idea what that was about, and he just said, nothing he was aware of. I just nodded in agreement and headed home. It truly felt surreal.
Last night I sat down and went over the day in my mind, one more time. I decided to rewrite this article, and be more concise about what it was that I both observed and felt was different about this trip.
Anyway, tonight I went to see Civil War, which combined with the last 24 hours, was both visceral and its underlying message, discomforting. Every day feels like we’re all waiting for something, anything to go wrong. There does exist a sense of angst throughout society. Even in the depth of the cold war, I never experienced the current level of anxiety that seems to pervade the media and everyday society. It feels like anyday something significantly dark is about to occur, and yes, I hope I’m completely wrong.
Enjoy every day, and find peace where you can. I think I’ll avoid the United States for awhile. Since I’m a foreigner, maybe what’s happening in the US IS just a biproduct of the political environment that’s now in existence. My genuine hope it all gets sorted without the worst outcome.
This week I’m just going to head out to the lakes, camp for a couple of days, and take in the air, sun and sky. Life is short and I, like you, don’t need or really want any ‘drama’ in my life. Enjoy.
Ciao…
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