BACKROADS • OCTOBER 2021
Page 6
O N T H E M AR K MARK BYERS
TIME… A WASTREL’S OBSESSION, AND CONFESSION Charlie Watts died. Of all of the Rolling Stones, he seemed like the least likely to go considering his lifestyle compared to Jagger, Richards, and Wood. Although he fell prey to alcohol and drugs in the 80’s, Charlie never indulged like the other three. Charlie was the rock of the Stones, the man to whom Richards could turn in his most bleary state and pick up the beat if he got lost (or conversely, the man who could adeptly change his time to follow whatever riff Richards was laying down). Charlie was the metronome and he kept the time like the Greenwich Observatory. Music is all about time, actually and metaphorically. Not only is time central to the meter, but it’s a central theme in many lyrics. A quick search reveals more than two dozen songs about time. I would be chastised if I didn’t mention “Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is” by Chicago. I wonder if Green Day realized that every high school in the world would have to listen to “Time of Your Life” at graduation (although the real title is “Good Riddance” and it is about a girlfriend leaving). I really like that song, however, because it’s played on an acoustic guitar. “Time After Time” by Cyndi Lauper is beautiful and a favorite of mine, along with “Time Is On My Side” by the Stones, “Time Has Come Today” by the Chambers Brothers, and “This is the Time” by Billy Joel. The intros alone to “Time” by Pink Floyd and “Clocks” by Coldplay make me want to hear more. Concern for time is inversely proportional to age: as we realize the muscular metronome in our bodies only has so many ticks left, we begin to fret about how to squeeze in as much activity as we can before the clock spring unwinds completely. This is magnified by people who are
obsessive-compulsive, which includes me (and every engineer). I come by it honestly: one of the best gifts we ever gave my dad was an atomic clock that he could carry around with him to reset the other clocks in the house following a power failure or the twice-yearly time change. My personal OCD is to use the National Institute of Standards & Technology (NIST) app on my phone to set all the watches in my case to the same second as their atomic clock. I guess having a small collection of watches is evidence in itself, but the engineer in me loves the clockwork inside that can be wound or charged by everything from body motion to the sun. One would think that a man so concerned about the accurate display of time would be more concerned about the use thereof, but perversely, I am not. The psychological term for being obsessed with the use of time is called “chronomania” and the fear of running out of time is called “chronophobia.” As I age, I appear to develop more of the latter, but as a procrastinating wastrel, I don’t appear to have the former. I like to be punctual, because that’s so important to other people, but for myself, I am more of an “-ish person” who believes in “four-thirty-ish.” When I ride somewhere, I am loathe to give someone an arrival time because then people worry if you’re late. I used to have my family trained that if they didn’t get a call from the cops, I would eventually turn up. Then, I got married…. I really don’t mean to be contemptuous of other people’s time, but I also don’t want to add making an exact “time on target” to my list of stressors either. I know people who are so used to schedules and regimentation that they bring that crap with them on vacation: “At eight, we’re on the ferry and at nine we tour the mansion, which gives us time to have a coffee before we catch the water taxi to the museum.” My thoughts are that if you bring your regimentation on vacation, it’s not a vacation. Get used to the idea of “-ish.” If it rains, put your feet up at the inn and read a freakin’ book. If you are riding, stop and take a photo, move a turtle, or whatever hurls your kilt skyward: you’ll get there at “-ish.” And if you’re wondering what this screed has to do with motorcycles, I leave you with the following admonition: life is short - buy the motorcycle. ,