I’m moving this to the coffee room, as it’s a bit off-topic for the thread. I’ve been following the activities of Donut Lab and Verge since the CES fair in January, and while I can’t claim to be an expert on motorcycles, let alone solid-state (Solid State) batteries, I’m reminded of a story from my now-retired supervisor about the time he turned 50.
He bought himself a motorcycle, and having ridden one in his youth as an experienced tamer of two-wheelers, he set off on his newly acquired 1000cc machine for the first time in a couple of decades. After all, riding a motorcycle is like riding a bicycle—once learned, it’s never forgotten.
From his yard, there was a straight stretch of about 100 meters to the road, aside from a few roots from the roadside pines and a few protruding large rocks that had been too big to dig up at the time, so the road was built around them. However, there were no turns, just a few vertically deviating spots in the terrain that an ordinary Jeep could handle at 10 km/h and which don’t even appear on the defense forces’ terrain maps.
The first time the bike was in his yard after delivery, when the engine roared to life, the feeling was magnificent. A manly roar and a vibration traveling up the inner thighs speak of untamed power just waiting for its commander. So, off we go! The handlebars were already pointed toward the road, and in a surge of power, all he had to do was twist the wrist… and at that moment, the rider realized he had chosen an untamed Italian stallion that wanted to go without external authority, to run free so that the front tire lifting off the ground caused a primitive reaction to squeeze the handle harder, thus adding long-awaited energy to the middle-aged man’s life.
The bike shot forward like a missile, the grown man holding onto the handle with the intention of showing the bike who’s boss! The grip on the handle only tightened, for what was the alternative? This battle would not end in the master’s defeat, and thus it was a battle of wills. Who would give up first? The man with boundless willpower, or the untamed bike?
It certainly wouldn’t be the man, for even torn hearts can be patched, but a quitter’s shame never leaves. Even though no one was home to witness this hyper-masculine struggle, which was a shame in itself.
This was evolution’s ultimate test, where only the fittest would survive and no second prizes are awarded. A primordial battle where will, soul, and spirit are burned to the end, and only one rises from the ashes.
The first root was only meters away, and the bike soared four meters in horizontal flight from it, the front wheel at a 30-degree angle, the man holding onto the handle with his rear in the air and legs behind the taillight. Legends are created this way, even if no one is there to see it.
After the rear wheel slammed into the ground, the counterforce returned the front wheel to the earth and the man to the saddle. The pain in his loins was minor compared to the fact that his soul sang as the stakes of this battle rose, with the ultimate secrets of humanity parting their veil before the fighters’ eyes.
The game was only beginning. The next ordeal was only meters away, where an ancient rock’s corner, rounded over time on the right side of the road, would make a car driver drive slowly over it as the road dipped down at a sharp angle immediately after. They approached this in a tight combat stance where neither man nor bike gives in.
With his feet just placed on the pegs but without time to ease off the throttle, the man-bike entity, aided by unyielding stubbornness, launched itself over the rock into a 15-meter leap as the road sloped steadily downward. This journey lasted a lifetime, during which the rider had time to ponder the meaning of life and things he still wanted to do in the future. Someday we will tell of these things. Today is not that day.
The climax of this duel of wills happened almost immediately after landing, when the combatants met the earth according to the laws of physics, which does what earth does. The bike’s rear suspension gave way, and the rear wheel clawed at the rear fender like a wild boar, trying to come through the seat into the rider’s backside, consequences be damned!
Fighting heroically, the rider brought his wounded opponent to the ground using a Greco-Roman wrestling move, the Suplex (Selkäheitto), where the opponent is thrown over one’s own hips and back to show who is lord and king.
Now, a few decades later, I often return to this story filled with deep meaning, which in my youthful immaturity I hadn’t previously been able to understand in the context it deserves. In recent years, my dreams and thoughts have subconsciously returned to this story in the quiet hours of the night, as I’ve wondered what I can still achieve in my life when all earthly good has already been won—except for the Black Friday dream TV, which I unselfishly gave up for the good of the family.
In these middle-aged years, having achieved inner peace, in quiet and meaningful moments of self-reflection, I have begun to feel an inexplicable attraction to motorcycles, as if I need to feel an unbridled, burning power between my legs that makes the world rush by, just like my admired supervisor decades ago. Will Verge fulfill this unconscious need of mine, which no one has been able to put into words like my legendary boss?
