In looking around one night for why I’m so wierd (that one will keep you occupied for awhile!) I ran across this lady. Suddenly, no, I’m not crazy. Verging on ADD maybe, but not crazy.

http://talentdevelop.com/articles/AYAS.html

What is a Scanner?

Scanners love to read and write, to fix and invent things, to design projects and businesses, to cook and sing, and to create the perfect dinner party. (You’ll notice I didn’t use the word “or,” because Scanners don’t love to do one thing or the other; they love them all.)

A Scanner might be fascinated with learning how to play bridge or bocce, but once she gets good at it, she might never play it again. One Scanner I know proudly showed me a button she was wearing that said, “I Did That Already.”

To Scanners the world is like a big candy store full of fascinating opportunities, and all they want is to reach out and stuff their pockets.

It sounds wonderful, doesn’t it?

The problem is, Scanners are starving in the candy store. They believe they’re allowed to pursue only one path. But they want them all. If they force themselves to make a choice, they are forever discontented. But usually Scanners don’t choose anything at all. And they don’t feel good about it.

As kids, most Scanners had been having a great time! At school no one objected to their many interests, because every hour of every student’s school day is devoted to a different subject.

But at some point in high school or soon after, everyone was expected to make a choice, and that’s when Scanners ran into trouble. While some people happily narrowed down to one subject, Scanners simply couldn’t.

The conventional wisdom was overwhelming and seemed indisputable: If you’re a jack-of-all-trades, you’ll always be a master of none. You’ll become a dilettante, a dabbler, a superficial person — and you’ll never have a decent career.

Suddenly, a Scanner who all through school might have been seen as an enthusiastic learner had now become a failure.

But one thought wouldn’t leave my mind: If the world had just continued to accept them as they were, Scanners wouldn’t have had any problems.

With the exception of learning project management techniques, the only thing Scanners needed was to reject conventional wisdom that said they were doing something wrong and claim their true identity.

Almost every case of low self-esteem, shame, frustration, feelings of inadequacy, indecisiveness, and inability to get into action simply disappeared the moment they understood that they were Scanners and stopped trying to be somebody else.

It appears that Scanners are an unusual breed of human being. One reason they don’t recognize themselves is that they don’t often meet people like themselves.

How do you know if you’re a Scanner?

Maybe it would be useful to first discuss who isn’t one.

Who isn’t a Scanner?

Well, specialists aren’t Scanners, obviously. If you’re someone who is happy being completely absorbed by one field, I’ve labeled you a Diver.

Some clear examples of Divers are professional musicians, scientists, mathematicians, professional chess players, athletes, business owners, and financiers.

These people may “relax” with a hobby, but they’re rarely passionate about anything but their field. In fact, Divers often wonder how people can be interested in anything but what they’re interested in.

Sometimes they even make fun of themselves for it, like the racing bicyclist Tim Krabbé described in The Rider, who glances up from his gear to look at people walking and says, “Nonracers. The emptiness of those lives shocks me.”

By contrast, Scanners rarely think what other people are doing is empty. They’re always curious to know “what’s out there” and love to poke their noses into just about anything.

Been thinking alot (as usual) about what bike I want. We have the Dyna Street Bob, and it ROCKS. But its a 700+ lb rock. And I said we. This is about ME.

Took the Dyna out a couple weeks ago on a beautiful February day (eat your heart out Carl in Michigan) and, although it was a great day, it was really gusty windy. Stupid me, I didn’t think about the fact that I had been under an excellent acupuncturists care that week for my back. It was a great ride, but while I was riding I found myself leaning hard into the gusts, and it didn’t take long for me to realize that my back wasn’t ready for the challenge. I slowed down (dammit) and came back in to town fairly slow. Got up in the driveway, got the bike parked, and the second I got off I knew I had un-did all what Donna, the lady with the needles, had done.

In thinking about my maneuvering the Dyna, I am torn between getting another Harley, or something a little lighter. (Don’t tell me to get a Sportster. Thats for girls. After almost 38+ years on a bike I wouldn’t be caught DEAD on one…) No disrespect to any big bully guys out there riding a Sportie.

Anyway, I really want a Harley. But damn. If I can’t back the damn thing up, or have a remote chance of picking it up on the inevitable gravel driveway drop, why have it. I mean, hell, I weigh what, 110? If you do a calculation at the weight ratio of bike to ass, thats sheer stupidity. What to do, what to do.

Harley Davidson. HD. Hunderd-dolla. Whatever you call it, its the mac daddy. And MY daddy’s. And step daddys. And uncles. And Gene’s stepdaddys. And all my Harley’s Angels friends. Ok I’ll stop. Forgetting for a minute they weigh Harleys by the ton, the only one off the floor that I can barely touch on is a Deuce. Ok, so a Deuce is cool. Seat height is good. But why the damn three foot wide stock seat? Geez. Ya, I know, i can change it. Hunderd-dolla. We’ve dropped the Bob by about 1.5″. Its ok, but I can’t back it up. Love the way it handles tho. But regardless if it fit perfectly, its HIS. :> (I let him think that.) I got girly germs on his big bad black denim bike. No pink tassels, just so you know, I’ve just been seen around on it more than he has. Someone has to drive the band van… (evyl snicker).

Been considering my friend Dannys’ “Purple Haze”, a 1999 Yamaha VStar 650. Wish it was an 1100. Its all tricked out with a cool paint job, chrome, and all that jazz. (See my about me page.) Whats keeping me from getting it? Well, one, the age. Second, I really want at least an 1100, I’d like to go on longer trips. But its certainly a head turner, and it fits me to a t.

The Yamaha VStar Silverado is cool. Like a smaller Ultra. Hard bags, floorboards, almost beach bars. (If you don’t know what all this stuff is, well, catch up!) I sat on a Silverado at the HD dealer; it was sooo sooo comfortable, with a great gel seat (but not too whale-bloated looking); lots of chrome studs (you know I like my studs!) and I could back the damn thing up. Very cool. Been considering that.

Suzuki has recently came out with a Raider - bad BAD boy. Almost too bad for this biker chick. Ya its a ricer, but damn its long, lean, raked and ready. Very hot.

Ridley has some great designs, but damn I can’t get past the AUTOMATIC tranny. Ya, I understand some people prefer that… but the day I drive an AUTOMATIC bike… well, you know. There is some weird-ass form of satisfaction and stress relief I get from pushing the red line to the next gear, and let me tell you on the Dyna thats the shit - that thing eats red line for lunch and begs for more… just gets breathing good at the redline.

The Honda Shadow Aero is a strong contender. Low but fat, beach bars, great accessories. Found one online that rivaled a 50’s police bike, all tricked out with fringed leather studded seats and bags, double laced spokes, all the goodies.  Our good friend has the ultra bad-boy Honda Rune, and one day I need to take it for a spin. I’ll look like a monkey on an elephant, but what an elephant… its incredibly balanced for its bulk. And I’m sure its fast. My first road bike was a Honda TwinStar. Cool bike. Remind me to tell you about that bike.

Suzuki tourers, well, they’re ok. I’m surrounded by em. Denise, Autumn, Ray all have them. I rode Anthony’s around the HD dealer at one of our shows; it was not made for my short arms. Might as well ride a crotchie. The Boulevards are the equivalent of the Yammie Silverado. Cool, but you know, Autumn and Ray have them, so I don’t want to copycat. Ok, really its because I have to be cooler than them.

BMW, well, in my dreams. Ya, just Neal Peart and I, riding off around the Canadian Rockies following the Rush tour bus around. (You gotta read his book, Traveling Music, trust me). Also in my dream? I’m six feet tall. Apparently superior German Engineering still discounts anyone under 6′ tall; the bikes are made for legs that I don’t have. Great, beautiful machines tho.

Whatever I end up with, I’m sure it will take me where I want to go, get some wind in my hair, and the stress relief that only the open road can bring. And 99% of the time when I can’t decide on the ride, I feel like my Daddy is there, over my shoulder whispering to me, HARLEY.

Google kicked me out of my last blog, saying I was a security risk. Damn spammers. Well, here’s my new blog. Lets see when i get time to write!