On Motorcycles.

Outlaws have always fascinated me. I think that's why I enjoy Bob Dylan's music so much. As he's said countless times, he's not a folk singer and his music isn't folk music. His songs are political songs, and they're too old and weird to die. It's the music of an outlaw, about outlaws, for outlaws. Even at 68, the man still remains jarringly suspicious to authority figures.

It's also no wonder he was a fan and rider of motorcycles -- the horse of the modern outlaw.

I've wanted a motorcycle for a while now. I'm really partial to the Triumph Bonneville. Maybe it's that outlaw aura bout motorcycles that attracts me, or maybe it's just my love of driving in general. Either way, reading Hunter S. Thompson's "Hell's Angels" isn't helping. What it is doing for me, however, is breaking up some of the mystique surrounding the motorcycle.

I stopped at a Starbucks on my way into work today. As I parked, I noticed a custom Harley-Davidson in the parking lot. Inside, I discovered the driver was a middle-age man who was reading the New York Times and sipping a latte.

The motorcycle no longer has rebel connotations. But it's still fascinating.