Wycocomagh

Andreas Paepcke
Jul 20, 2017 · 4 min read

See Your Neurosis, Raise You One

Got a new design for the zipper. This one looks promising! Promising
enough that I am adding rings to all the zippers of my riding pants.
Yes. All of them. I can now safely check for closure at speed.

Next Design
Now on All My Zippers. Proud as a Beaver. If I see an appropriate young maiden, I’ll just take one off and propose.

I do have another neurosis though: I want my fuel tank full before I
check into accommodations at night. And I want the gas station to be
as close as I can find to those accommodations so that the tank really
is as full as can be when I climb on in the morning. More important
than a good breakfast: a tank full to the cap with 91 octane. Neuroses
are useful, you know!

Now, beyond ensuring closed zippers and full tanks, navigation is
important on a motorcycle ride. Sure, you need to know where you are
going. But I’m talking about navigating the pockets of your motorcycle
attire. Motorcycle clothes tends to be blessed with numerous pockets.
More pockets in fact than are wise to fill. Typical questions that
arise:

Where is the bike key? The credit card? Cash? Earplugs? Cell phone?
GPS when ambulating? Strap for securing the hand break when parked on
a steep hill? Passport?

Mine for pocket navigation is the cathedral method. In my mind, and in
the physical manifestation of its imaginings I distribute items as if
throughout the interiors of a cathedral. This method is a well
documented memorization technique of the Middle Ages. A similar method
is in fact mentioned by Cicero.

Navigating My Pockets

So, here is where things are:

Choir: cell phone and earplugs
Nave: credit card/drivers license, ballpoint pen, and
GPS during breaks away from the bike.
Belfry: Motorcycle keys when not on the bike. Hotel keys.
Crypt: cash, passport

The mapping:

Choir: left jacket pocket
Nave: right jacket pocket
Belfry: right pants pocket
Crypt: inner left jacket pocket.

Makes sense, right?! Works great, if, and only if you exact
monastic-level discipline. Which I do.

My one problem has been that my urge has been to place the cell phone
in the nave. I do not know why. It just seems to belong there. BUT:
the bike’s power outlet is on the bike’s left side. So if I were ever
to power the phone while riding, the choir is a better place for its
storage. This change took me a while to operationalize.

Ironically, once I succeeded I realized that Siri won’t work on
Canada’s roads, unless you turn on data roaming, which is of
dangerously unpredictable expense. So powering the cell phone won’t be
an issue till Washington State. I could have left placements be. But I
feel younger of mind for having unearthed the required mental agility.

I know what you are thinking. How does Andreas use the rear pockets,
and what place do they take in the cathedral? The answer is simple.
The rear pockets are a different denomination. I do not use them!
Never have. Never will. Won’t.

======================================

A Note to German Travelers

Nova Scotia is lovely. However, if you are from Southern Germany, skip
the interior. You may as well travel through the Sourthern Rhine
Valley on the A5. Same landscape. Same vegetation. In fact, as I
checked in at the Aberdeen Motel on Cape Breton today the owner’s
English was clearly Swiss. She is from the Swiss side of the Bodensee,
and she spontaneously confirmed my impression.

“It’s just like around the Bodensee, isn’t it?”

Yep.

This similarity will end tomorrow as I will circumnavigate the 250
miles of Cabot Trail. A scenic route high above the Atlantic. I was
warned that the cliff begins precisely at the edge of the highway. I
was also advised to ride counterclockwise in search of a heightened
thrill from negotiating the outside lane.

I will land in this very motel at the end of tomorrow. Or so one
hopes.

Unexpected Relief

You know how you sometimes carry burdens without noticing? Until the
burdens are removed? This unloading was my experience upon entering
Canada: every measurement is metric. Oh God, how wonderful. No more
dividing by three to gain a sense of distances and height. Nothing is
ever more complex than shifting a comma.

Love the Km

Ironically, one measure of road distance had resided deep within me
all these years: 130km. That distance spans the length of Autobahn
from my home town Karlsruhe to Freiburg, where we often drove during
my childhood. My sense of distance was shaped in part by the time it
takes to arrive at the Freiburg Cathedral. The distance of 100 meters
was imprinted by the 300m, 200m, 100m markers before each Autobahn
exit. It’s all there in my bones. All it took was a single sign: Halifax 350Km

)
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