If I’ve learned anything in 2020 (debatable) it came from being reminded that love matters above all else. Without it, there is nothing. Whether that be self love, romantic love, familial love, love of your fellow man or what have you – love is where it’s at.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve seen heart shapes in the wild. I’d see them in coffee rings, clouds, in oil swirls on the wet ground, you name it. The humble little heart, a symbol of love the world over, was everywhere.

File under: Pareidolia?

: the tendency to perceive a specific, often meaningful image in a random or ambiguous visual pattern

The scientific explanation for some people is pareidolia, or the human ability to see shapes or make pictures out of randomness. Think of the Rorschach inkblot test.— Pamela Ferdinand

Merriam-Webster

And then for a spell much longer than was comfortable, I didn’t see any hearts at all. None. Nowhere. My secret superpower was gone.

You see, I never considered that seeing hearts where they didn’t really exist was something neurotic or strange. It’s always been a good thing, almost like a check to say that I still knew what mattered.

My mind has always gravitated to metaphorical things. I’ve always been a seer of signs. And so it felt symbolic to no longer be able to find these heart shapes hiding in plain sight. It was as if my ability to find “love” went away.

During that period, the thought occurred to me that I would never again be able to find the hearts. And I asked myself more than once, what that meant for me. Surely, it meant something, right? Had I really changed that much? Was I broken?

One afternoon a few months ago – after getting the mail out of the box and walking up my driveway, I saw a leaf on the ground in the shape of a heart. “There you are,” I said out loud to no one. Except perhaps myself because it was me that needed to hear it.

A sense of relief washed over me. It was a sign. I’m still here. I just needed to be patient.

Love is so simple, so pure. Yet, loving people can be hard. And when we are hard to love, perhaps that is when we need each other’s love the most.

You can view all of Virginia’s LOVE Works on their map.

Standing on the precipice of a new year, I wonder what is in store for me when the calendar turns the page. Who doesn’t, really? But I’m admittedly curious about the sentiment that people are excited to kiss ’20 goodbye, as if reality changes at the stroke of midnight.

I suppose having a catalyst for actual change in your life be something definitive like a line in the sand makes the leap easier. If you’ve got something finite to measure against, a corner to turn that changes your mindset and therefore your reality – the stroke of midnight is as good as anything else, I guess.

Looking back at 2020 as a whole, it wasn’t the worst year of my life. Sure, there were ups, downs, fear, disappointments, resignations, discomforts and yes, pleasures – all things considered it wasn’t the absolute worst.

Yes, my lifestyle was cramped. I’ve spent more time in the house than I ever have in my whole life since I live and work in the same space. And I missed out on traveling and being with people in the ways I wanted to. Not to mention I haven’t had a proper haircut/color since February and I had to say goodbye to my pink hair. But still… it could have been worse. My loved ones are healthy. That’s what matters most.

In a funny way, I think the opportunity for diminished activity all around helped me gain clarity about some things. Without the ever-present crush of having to do something, having to be somewhere, or feeling the vice of FOMO my typically boiling brain was able to reduce to a simmer. With that reduced interaction came reduced friction and more opportunity to get right with myself.

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My year started strong with a riding trip in California. That’s something I always love doing. I spent a week bumming around solo taking in the world, enjoying the warm weather and the sunshine.

That trip was then capped off with three friends flying out from New York for the weekend to do SoCal Supermoto. That was a neat experience and highly recommended.

The four of us also rented Harleys and rode around. While that style of motorcycle isn’t typically any of our thing, the experience of being together out in the desert on bikes was wonderful.

I took special joy in seeing our Italian former-racer in his rashed-out full suit and pucks “enjoying” his Road King.

Side note: While we were stopped for this photo a van full of women in spandex exercise gear (literally!) stopped to take a picture and chat with the guys on bikes. It was like something out of an 80’s movie. I guess chicks dig motorcycles, or something 🙂

I still have a mountain of photos and experiences from that trip to share. And many other trips and rides for that matter.

Once lockdown released here in New York, many motorcyclists seemed to find riding a great socially distant activity. The same was true for me. I did get out and do some riding, exploring, and looking at stuff. I was able to share time with people I care about, even if it wasn’t “the same” it was still worthwhile.

This autumn I unexpectedly found myself the proud owner of a new-to-me car that has been a lot of fun to drive. I’ve never been much of a car roadtripper, but something about the Corvette is particularly satisfying. The car has a very interactive and mechanical feel which I enjoy. It is in stark contrast to my daily-driver Audi that is like playing an effortless video game.

As the weather has gotten colder I’ve been cruising around in the car, top down, heat on. No, it’s not the same as riding but is pleasurable in its own way. I actually look forward to taking a road trip on four wheels to see what that’s like. For now I’ll have to file that one away for “next year.”

While this year has been a nightmare for so many, I find myself fortunate in many ways. I hope that you find yourself in good health, with food on your table, love in your life, and a sense of security. My hope is that tomorrow is a little better than today for us all.

xox,
R.

When you think about getting out for a ride on your motorcycle, how often do you think about heading into a major metropolitan area? More often than not, my thoughts about riding involve being in remote areas, places of solitude, or lonely mountain rounds.

But if you want to get in and around a city, being on two wheels gives you lost of room to maneuver where a car can’t.

The Beauty and Solitude of an Empty City

Solitude. Now that is something that I wouldn’t typically equate with existing on the edges of the five boroughs of New York City. And yet, what I discovered is that it could be experienced.

Sure, timing was everything. The universe had to line up the chess pieces and I had to make the opening move. But on an early Sunday morning at the end of August when these photos were taken, I pretty much had Wycoff Ave in Bushwick, Brooklyn all to myself.

The streets that morning were filled only with the compressive thump of my motorcycle exhaust and the swirling color of street art. The city streets felt simultaneously alive and yet… not.

With initiatives from groups like the Bushwick Collective the streets of this area have become an ever-expanding canvas of street art and murals. This smattering of photos is just the top of the iceberg.