Month: February 2025 (page 1 of 1)

I was talking to a friend the other day when he mentioned how nostalgic certain scents could be. As he said this, I thought of campfires, cologne, coffee, and apple pie. I asked what he was referring to. He replied, “The smell of a 2-stroke engine just started up. There’s nothing like it!” I was forced to agree. If you’ve ever ridden dirt bikes or ATVs (otherwise known as trikes and quads) in the 80s and 90s, you’re most certainly familiar with their very distinct type of smoke. The only other exhaust that holds anywhere near the aforementioned nostalgia is the smell of a diesel truck warming up on a cold winter’s morning. I’d have to say though, dirt bikes and quads – nothing brings me back quite like the smell of their exhaust. Why? Because it once led to so much more than just a bike idling in a driveway. It always led to adventure and a day’s worth of gloriously good times.

There was no shortage of great places to ride in Brewster. The reservoir, the watershed, Albie’s field, Porter’s field, and probably many more than I can’t recall at the moment. While I wasn’t one of the privileged few who owned a brand new dirt bike or 4-wheeler, I was one who owned a second-hand dirt bike. And then another one and another one. At this point, I’m not even sure how many I’ve owned, but there were a few and they were all awesome. Yes, they were older and broke down a lot, but yes, they ran and they got me through. And as many of my still-friends can easily attest to today, we all enjoyed incredible childhoods – mostly owing to the fact that we knew how to ride and we knew how to fix things. Oh yeah, and that we were presented with our choice of the best, albeit the most illegal, riding spots anywhere. If I had to guess and if I asked my friends right now, I’d say and they’d likely agree that the reservoir was the probably the most diverse and entertaining landscape for off-roading. The watershed would most likely come in second. I’ll discuss the watershed more below.

I’m fully aware of how weird the names are for riding spots among the various towns around the country. I’m not sure how these areas earned their names, but alas, these names were what they were given. Near my cousin’s house in Bethel, there was an area named, “Mystery.” It was a mystery how that name came about, but if a person were interested in sand and riding through and over dunes, that would be the place to go. And in Danbury, there was a place named, “Super 7.” Both Mystery as well as Super 7 have since been built upon. Folks now walk out of their houses and offices and step on once sacred and hallowed riding grounds. It’s a shame really. Sort of depressing to think about how these magnificently wooded pieces of property that were so famous for recreational use have since been destroyed for yet more homes and commercial buildings. Everything was illegal to ride upon anyway, so I don’t want to complain too much. Still though, as I creep on our old stomping grounds via Google Earth, I can’t help but get discouraged as I reflect upon the fact that they’re now gone, never to be visited by teenagers and young 20-something year-olds again. No more dirt bikes and no more quads. Not that people ride much in my home town anymore anyway. I guess the times my friends and I loved so much were a part of a larger bygone era. That’s the way it is, I suppose. The watershed is still there though and if I were to ever visit my home town and if I were to somehow find myself sitting on a dirt bike or quad on Brewster Hill Road, I’d most definitely ride that sucker down the hill into the field, just for old time’s sake. I’d love that.

Pete lived right off Brewster Hill Road. His house was usually where we all met before venturing off to either the reservoir or the watershed. It was also his driveway I referred to above, where I mentioned the nostalgic scent of two-stroke smoke burning through the many FMF exhausts. FMF was an exhaust brand back then – it probably still is, although I’m not sure 2-stroke off-road vehicles exist anymore. As for the times we met up at Pete’s, they were invigorating, especially if there was snow on the ground. Somehow the snow made our adventures seem so much more legitimate, rather than the alternative. Rob and I would ride from my house on Sunset, Frank would come flying up the driveway on his quad, Gary would buzz around the corner, pulling a wheelie on his trike, and somehow, Herman would already be there on his RM125. Russell and Chris would be waiting down at Porter’s field doing donuts in the snow, anticipating our arrival. And arrive we would, after cruising down Brewster Hill, riding side-saddle, as if that method was somehow more legal than riding with both legs over the seat.

The hill would level out and just past a tiny stream, we’d make a right into the woods. A few hundred feet and then a stone wall. Over the stone wall was Porter’s field and if we made a left, the woods would dissipate and the fields would appear and we’d ride through three or four of them and then through a somewhat windy trail straight into the watershed zone. That’s where the fun began, as if it wasn’t just as much fun making it to the destination.

As I sit here and type, I can’t recall why we valued the watershed property so much more than we valued the fields that preceded it. Most likely because the fields were a means to an end and weren’t focused on as much. In addition, the watershed offered seclusion as well as one large jump. So if a guy wanted to ride in peace and launch off a jump, that guy would be perfectly content doing so at the watershed. Just as another friend of ours, Dave, was content in doing so on his 1985 Honda XR600 – one of the most reliable and badass bikes of the 80s. Yes, it was a 4-stroke, but a really good one.

Frank and Pete had, by far, the best quads out of anyone and even perhaps the best on the planet. 1986 and 1988 Honda TRX250Rs, respectively. Otherwise known as the Fourtrax 250R, this quad was a short-lived (1986-1989), yet, rambunctious and absolutely, shall we say, stimulating, machine. I’ll show you an example of the 1988 below.

As far as the rest of us, I’m not even sure what we rode. I owned a Suzuki RM80, a Honda CR125, and a Suzuki RM125 through the years. What I rode to the watershed remains fuzzy. Rob owned some sort of Kawasaki KDX dirt bikes. Herman had the RM125 I mentioned above and Gary rode a Yamaha trike. Russell and Chris rode a Suzuki QuadSport LT230 and a Honda ATC200, respectively. If I remember correctly, both had trouble starting, always. For some reason. I can’t really remember why.

I’m not sure what else I can tell you about riding at the watershed beyond the fact that it consumed the thoughts of many of us for years upon years. I used to ride a lot down there with my cousin, Joey, after I sold him my RM80. I’d ride one of my 125s and he’d fly by me cruising at what seemed like 100 miles per hour. In reality, he was traveling only around 35, but being so close to the ground and so exposed to the elements, that slow speed seemed a heck of a lot faster. Joey and I used to ride at Albie’s a lot as well. Until we both sold our bikes and pretty much gave up that type of activity. After we began driving cars, the allure of the off-road machine began to fade and honestly, I can’t remember what it was I last owned or where it was I last rode. Another shame – to lose those types of memories to time. But again, at least I’ll remember the watershed, the reservoir, Albie’s, and the others. Well, as much as I can recall, anyway.

By the time I completed my tenure at Westchester Community College, I knew I wanted to become a professor. Of what? I had no idea. But I knew I wanted to teach. Today I think I would’ve been a superb professor of two disciplines; basic algebra and composition and literature. Algebra because it took me multiple attempts to finally get it, but once I did, I morphed into an algebraic champion with a knack for explaining its concepts to others – and composition and literature because I think I’d be a quizzical inspiration for young or interested writers. By the time I had graduated from graduate school at Binghamton University, I had already submitted my resume to one of my early professors at the aforementioned community college (Dr. John Christesen). He would pass it on to the college president (Dr. Joseph Hankin) for review. That entire endeavor, for some reason or another, never worked out. I’m not sure if there were any teaching positions available. Probably not. I really can’t remember.

I loved Westchester Community college. Without it, I have no idea where I’d be today. It took an undisciplined, novice, and certainly uninterested young man and turned him into a motivated, somewhat professional, and certainly interested still young, but somewhat older, young man. I thank my lucky stars for that institution and I’ll speak highly of it until the day I die. I thank it for instilling inside of me the ability to think. I’m not sure people appreciate the value of everyday thinking. To think is to compete, succeed, and win. Thinking is everything. It takes time and effort and without it, you’re really not much at all.

In our home, Laura and I often discuss the benefits of being educated. In today’s world, a valid and classical education is often overlooked. It’s all too easy to tell a young man or woman that they’ll go “far enough” with trade school training or with a simple high school diploma. In some cases, perhaps they will, especially if the child doesn’t have the wherewithal to excel in a university environment. Either that, or if earning a living is a primary concern. Regarding trade schools, don’t get me wrong, I appreciate them as much as the next guy does – after all, I attended one for two years during high school. Some time during tenth grade, my high school’s administrators along with my parents deemed my academic success as “not forthcoming” so I was shuttled off to an institution called BOCES in Yorktown, New York. There, I studied and practiced construction electricity. It was actually an excellent experience and I learned a lot. The fact was though, being an electrician wasn’t of interest to me. If I had it to do over again, I most likely would have gone into carpentry or masonry. The craft of electrifying things is somewhat limited in scope. I think I could have transformed my carpentry or masonry knowledge into something more along the lines of, or something that had to do with, historical woodworking, stonework, and/or architecture. Areas that interest me much more than electricity does.

Schools and parents oftentimes remove underperforming students from their academic environments and place them into much more suitable “hands on” surroundings. In my opinion, it’s the right option to take advantage of, if available. Some students are simply too immature to study the way others do. I was certainly immature during my high school days. And not only that, I was also heavily apathetic. Something’s got to be done with my type of student and having the opportunity to learn auto mechanics, tree care, electronics, nursing, child care, and so much more is priceless. Of course, during my own high school days, I didn’t appreciate the gift that was bestowed upon me. I’m not sure I actually appreciated much of anything.

As I grew into my early 20s, I suppose my mind matured. I became more interested in the finer things life had to offer and less interested in working with my hands. Of course I still work with my hands quite a bit, but today it’s by choice, not necessity. And as I mentioned above, I matriculated in and attended a community college as well as a university. My early days of learning were admittedly rough, but as time passed, I learned how to learn and actually became quite good at it. I came to enjoy and regard the academic world highly.

Today, I miss all of it.

When Laura and I discuss college, we talk about how nice it would be to return to such a structured environment. One that rewards learning and excelling at using the mind the way it’s meant to be used. I tell her how I would have gone into history or some sort of writing and research. And how I had always planned on working towards a PhD – for whatever reason, I have no idea. I’m not even sure why I undertook graduate school for an MBA. During my year after undergrad, while living in Atlanta, I came up with that idea. I thought about how much fun the challenge would be, so I went ahead with it. A year later, I had earned another degree and had it to keep in my back pocket in case I ever needed it. I’ve yet to need it.

To me, the university is meant to be taken advantage of to its fullest extent. I definitely recognize the value of STEM degrees, obviously, but I’ve never been interested in any area of them. I’ve recently been enthralled with the liberal arts. What are the liberal arts?

A liberal arts degree includes the study of history, literature, writing, philosophy, sociology, psychology, creative arts, and more. The programs are designed to help you formulate compelling arguments, communicate well, and solve problems.

If you ask me, it’s a degree worthy of pursuit. One that won’t get you very far in an increasingly more defined and professionally segregated world, but one that will surely assist in thinking yourself through the problems and issues life throws at you day in and day out.

I once wrote two posts; one dealt with articulation and the other dealt with debating. Both were related to the art of using one’s mind. How to think and how to process ideas. And then, how to communicate those ideas to others in any way you choose. Or just keep them to yourself. To me, that’s ultimately what a university degree, or at the very least, experience, is all about.

I’d like you to watch the following video. It shows two people who demonstrate exactly what I’m referring to. The student asks valid and very well thought out questions and Jordan Peterson answers those questions like none other. In my opinion, it’s impossible to speak like these two without years and years of training on how to do so. Remember though that behind the speaking is the thinking and formulation of ideas. Tasks that are much more complex and challenging than most people give credit for.

It’s not thinking that I miss most about the university life though. It’s much more than that. It’s the all-encompassing, dare I say, vibe, that’s omnipresent on a well respected campus.

For instance, let’s say I somehow managed acceptance into Cambridge University as a young lad. Imagine me majoring in History and Philosophy, two fascinating topic areas for me. Now imagine me taking courses on the Renaissance and Reformation, Ancient Rome, and the history of Western Civilization. And on top of that, imagine me taking courses on Ancient Philosophy, Contemporary Moral Issues, and Critical Thinking and Reasoning. Think of all the research I’d have to do. All the papers I’d have to write. All the students I’d have to discuss my ideas with. That’s what I miss the most about going to college.

Back when I actually attended both of my schools, I majored in business. Sure, I took a good number of classes that had no relation to business at all, but for the large part, business was my game. Now, I’m not sure if you’ve ever taken a business course or not, but I can tell you that, while certainly challenging, they’re not exactly what you’d discuss with others at dinner parties. There’s nothing glamorous or interesting about accounting, marketing, or finance. Subjects that are good to know, but not much fun to remember. Courses on the arts, world, and the mind – now that’s an entirely different beast. I imagine myself immersed in that world and somehow, I miss it. Or at least, I imagine myself missing it.