I dreamt I was riding a motorcycle last night. Coldfire was in it, and so was someone else. It might have been Spiny Norman. It was night. I was behind the others as we took off. (Not so different than in real-life, as Spiny’s bike is more powerful than mine. So was the one Coldie rented for the day.) I don’t remember what kind of bike I was on, but it was black and had gobs of power. It was hard to keep the front wheel on the ground, but I knew I had to so as not to be seen as “showing off”.
What does this mean? Being on a more powerful bike than I have would indicate that I want to have more control over my life. Having to restrain my natural tendency to use the power I have indicates that I feel that outside forces such as social conventions require me to dampen my enthusiasm for fun.
Either that, or it just means that I had a dream about riding a really cool bike with a couple of friends.
You’re dreaming of me?? I don’t know whether to be flattered or scared shitless, man.
I try not to analyse dreams, myself. But it was probably about sex. All male dreams are about sex, you see.
In reality, maybe you should add that the three of us (Johnny LA, Spiny Norman, myself) DID in fact ride our bikes together one day back in… early 2002? April? So that’s what the dream probably referred to.
I was riding a rental Honda Nighthawk 750 that day, a bike I wasn’t familiar with. So I find it hard to believe that I was quicker than you that day: in fact, you were right on my tail all the way down through the Canyons, back towars Malibu. That Nighthawk felt sturdy and secure, but it didn’t provide confidence in the corners. Too “heavy”, too unwilling to lean over. Don’t know why.
Anyways, Spiny had us both beat by a long shot, as per usual. Of course, my grandmother would have outrun us on that V-TEC monster.
Huh. 'Tis the season for Doper dreams, eh? In last night’s episode, I was at a Dopefest talking to Biggirl (whom I’ve never even met), who was telling me that her dog, named Courtney, who was so smart that could say his own name.
“Hmm,” I wondered aloud, “but if the dog is smart enough to talk, why would he say his own name? Why wouldn’t he say your name, or something else useful, like ‘feed me’ or ‘gotta pee–NOW!’?”
Not as interesting as Johnny’s dream, but perhaps indicative of an impending epidemic . . .
Your dream clearly indicates you feel a great deal of guilt over removing that turtle from the pet store in '81 and still long for that bra-less chick in front of you at the Dead concert with unshaved pits.
Actually I was sweatin’ that worn-out chain. I was expecting it to snap at any moment, so I was trying to be very tame in my riding.
Back to the dream. We were stopped, and I just happened to be in back. That’s why you two were ahead of me. You guys started off first, and then I gave it some gas. The front wheel came off the ground as I gained on you, and I was trying to be careful so that I wouldn’t zoom by you on one wheel.
(In real life, it’s been years since I’ve done a wheelie. That was on the XJ600.)
Driving down a fairly busy freeway last month, I observed a motorcycle rider looking over his shoulder several times. I wondered if someone had been tailgating him but soon realized he was just slowing and giving himself plenty of room ahead. Doing about 60 mph, he stood up, placed both feet on the back of the seat and gave it some gas. He roared ahead on a wheelie and effortlessly rode it for a good half mile and had to be doing at least 100 by the time he set it back down.
I’m not much on showoffs on the highway but must admit, that was pretty damn impressive.
