Life is a fuse lit at birth…
TICK TOCK:
It’s already been made clear how much time I spend thinking about time. I’m as bored by it as you are. I waste days thinking about minutes and seconds, only to realize how much time I’ve lost to thinking about time itself.
Kesha and I have very different approaches to time. She hears the tick-tock of the clock and shrugs, believing that the party will never stop. I wish I could be like Kesha, which is something I never thought I’d say. I like her optimism, but the whole point of each tick and tock is to remind us that the party is indeed going to stop. It’s a countdown. It’s a long series of perfectly spaced warnings that most of us get used to, causing the constant reminder (a gift) to dull and fade into the background until we're able to forget that life is a fuse lit at birth and that at some point the spark will kiss gunpowder, and we will leave only dust, and in my case, tons of worthless digital debris, musical instruments, and video gear along with stacks of illegible journals going back to 1984. For some reason, I can't ignore these constant alerts. These warnings have always pulsed loudly in my head from the earliest moment I can remember. Without the countdown, this would all be boring as hell. If only the countdown came with a number you could actually count down from so that you knew when you were going to hit that final blast off. Instead, it's more like, "It's coming, it's coming, it's coming..." but who knows when the party is going to finally stop. The party hat and noisemaker just float down in slow motion to eventually land on a floor we can’t see. That’s what makes this so fun.
TUK TUK:
One of my first posts Substack was on February 14, 2024 — Valentine’s Day. We had gone on an extremely rare (possibly first and possibly last?) Valentine’s Day date and Jen was in a mood due to the death of a colleague, or maybe it was just that we’re getting old, or maybe it was something else. I could read the post, but I don’t feel like it. She was on edge about how fleeting life is. Of course, I took this temporary mood as an opportunity to attempt to convince her that because life is so fleeting, we should endeavor to race a tuk-tuk across India.
I was successful in at least planting the seed. She didn’t pour poison all over it right away, which I took as a bit of a surprising success. The idea sprouted, but barely. A light breeze—or a single logical thought—could have uprooted it easily. For the next six months, Jen went back and forth, never shutting it down completely, but never committing either. Honestly, I didn’t expect it to even go as far as it did.
Jen has what I will call a delicate nervous system. While she’s always wanted to go to India — I think India alone might be enough to send every one of her nerves out into the courtyard of her existence to douse themselves in petrol followed by a well-choreographed group self-immolation that for a split second would conjure Esther Williams until the acrid smell hit your nostrils. I’ve never been to India, but “intense” seems to be a well-used descriptive. The smells, the sounds, and the energy are all fairly well-documented as overwhelming. I already know I’m going to love it because I enjoy a bit of chaos (to a point). Feeling out of place, confused, and at sea are some of my favorite states of being. And honestly, I think Jen likes the occasional taste of those things too. But it’s different when you are stuck in it for a prolonged amount of time with no break and no escape, which is what would be necessary for the tuk-tuk idea to take shape.
This all started when I was out riding a tiny 125cc motorcycle from Asheville to the Oregon coast across America over mostly dirt roads. It was by far the most impactful experience of my life with the exception of my relationship with Jen and our kids showing up. While I was riding I would wonder how I could share something similar with Jen somehow. Riding two up for 5,000 miles on a motorcycle probably wouldn’t be feasible. I was so incredibly uncomfortable on my own - I couldn’t see any way to make that work as a couple. And Jen isn’t a big fan of motorcycles anyway. She’s not totally against them, she just has a healthy fear of them, which any sane person should have. We have been on a few long rides on the Honda Goldwing, a giant motorcycle with an incredibly comfortable queen seat for Jennifer. I’m not sure if she enjoyed those little trips, but she certainly endured like a boss. I know she does it for me and I appreciate that. My hope is that she will grow to love it — but I realize she may not. The biggest trip so far was to Indiana to see the eclipse. We had a blast, even through the bad weather we rode through on the way home. So the chance for some motorcycle adventures is there - but we’ll likely never hit the dirt trails into the remote areas that are a big part of what is so amazing about motorcycle travel for me. Finding yourself 100 miles from a real road in any direction and even farther to fuel is a thrilling place to be.
Somewhere between the dust, exhaustion, and near-death moments, I realized: This is incredible. But Jen would never do it. How can I get close to this, but with Jen? The idea of the tuk-tuk race came to mind. A friend of mine did something similar fifteen years ago. We were colleagues in the film business and I remember her telling me about it and thinking how nuts it sounded. She described getting hopelessly lost, constant breakdowns, random strangers, aggressive monkeys, and what sounded like an amazing adventure. Perfect - a three-wheeled, three-seater tuk-tuk with an actual roof. What luxury! Jen would surely go for that - right? I had lots of time to think about it on those long days of riding, and it seemed like the closest we’d ever be able to get to a trip like this together. Right after that fateful Valentine’s Day when the idea was initially floated, I started asking every couple we know if they wanted to do it with us. I knew that having some other humans who were dumb enough to go along with this would add some guardrails and help my case with Jennifer. Especially if the couple had at least one fairly sane member. If it was just Jen and I, and I had a great idea to do something stupid - there would be a good chance that we’d go ahead and do something stupid. But with other people in the mix, that urge might be kept better under control, depending on the mental stability and common sense of the other people in question. Well, let me be very clear about our friends. They’re pussies. No matter how much intricate cajoling I was able to muster, I couldn’t convince any of them. Or, one would be in, but the other was firmly out. “When you are on your deathbed, I guarantee that you are going to remember this moment and have inconsolable regret and remorse. Not regret or remorse - you will have both. And when I come to visit you on your deathbed, I’m bringing photos of my trip to India and they will be the last thing you see…” I shouldn’t feel betrayed or disappointed just because our friends are smart enough to deny my ridiculous request. But I feel betrayal and disappointment all the same. That’s okay. I’m going to have an extra amazing time just to spite them all. PUSSIES.(¹)
¹ I use this term lovingly and with the utmost frustration at my friends’ lack of adventurous spirit. No offense to actual cats or human anatomy. And in no way do I personally relate wimpiness with the feminine. But Wimp or Softie didn’t cut it. It’s not my fault there’s no better word for my pussy friends. If it weren’t 2025 and if I didn’t have a house full of women who could easily kill me in my sleep, I wouldn’t be explaining myself at all.
We’re intentionally doing our best to take action on all of this bullshit I’m always going on about. How life is counting down and how we’d better do what we want to do while we can. Blah fucking blah. In that spirit, we did a month-long RV trip up the East Coast, through Nova Scotia, and spent a few weeks goofing off all over Newfoundland. It was fantastic and proved that we can still travel in close quarters, spending every second together without murdering each other. Quite the contrary. We had a blast. On the way north, we stopped to see my family in Connecticut. I’d told my sister Adele and her husband Paul about this tuk-tuk across India idea months before. At some point, they’d said that if we went through with it they’d do it too. Of course, they assumed that this would never happen. But it still marked a turning point in my campaign to convince Jen that this was a good idea. Or at least that it was a bad idea that should be followed through with. First of all - my sister and her husband are awesome and fun. Paul is a Kiwi McGyver type who’s been everywhere and can fix anything, both of which would surely come in handy. I’m pretty sure, however, that Paul probably leans toward my end of the spectrum of doing dumb things. My sister is organized and extremely capable and you’d want her around in an emergency. I’d categorize Jen in this way as well. There were some incidents on our RV trip where Jen really kept her head and kept us moving forward. When things go wrong, she’s quite resilient. Adele and Paul are both well-traveled and smart and most importantly have good senses of humor. For purely logistical reasons, this would be a great team. For hijinks and hilarity, this would be a great team. Jennifer adores my sister and would trust her to be a sane force on such an adventure. My sister and I haven’t done anything out of the ordinary together since we went to Belize for her fortieth birthday. It would be cool to get to hang out with them both. But I’m not at all sure this is a trip my sister would choose on her own. We don’t have to talk about it and surely won’t. But I know she’s doing this partly for me and dragging Paul right along with her — to help make this dumb obsession of mine happen. I appreciate that more than I can say, but it comes with a lot of pressure. What if someone gets hurt? It’s going to be miserable, but what if it’s miserable in a bad way as opposed to in a good way? Anything that goes wrong will ultimately be my fault. This was my idea. Then again, if we survive - I will take full credit for being the catalyst of what may become some of the most enduring memories of our lives. On our deathbeds, I want us to remember that time we did something grand and idiotic while we still could. One of my mottos in life is, “I’m not a manipulator, I am a catalyst…” But I’m congratulating myself prematurely. At this point, Jennifer still had not committed 100%.
I wasn’t there, so I’m not sure exactly what happened. As far as I can tell, there was a bit of bribery involved. Adele dangled a gorgeous spa as an ending point and reward to be enjoyed after the tuk-tuk race. If there is an interest peaker tailor-made for my wife, a luxurious spa is it. Jennifer was intrigued. Thoughts of pain, suffering, and misery were replaced with thoughts of a three-hour massage and an outrageously priced cocktail. My sister can be convincing (we share that) and Jennifer was finally convinced. She was 100% in. Dare I say, she was almost excited about it. I mean let’s be honest - if we don’t die, it’s going to be an incredible experience. Now that I think of it, anything that happens combined with not dying is pretty incredible.
It’s on. But it wasn’t official until January 3rd when the sign-up opened for the January 2026 tuk-tuk run. The text thread was dense with back and forth. We double-triple-checked with Jennifer. Adele texted a screenshot of her tuk-tuk down payment receipt. I texted back mine. It is officially on and I am so excited I could vomit. I think Jen could probably vomit too. I am committed to being as careful as humanly possible, to not letting my deeply rooted risk impulses take control, to making sure Jen is as comfortable and feels as safe as is manageable, to showing appreciation to Jen, Adele, and Paul for doing something I’m not sure they would do otherwise because I know that they’re doing it partly for me. I am a very lucky person and I know it.
GOOSE:
I couldn’t imagine not putting ‘Goose’ at the end of the title of this post. But I have no actual goose-related news to report. At least until we turn one into paté when we run over it with our tuk-tuk. I’ll be sure to take a photo for you.
Old guys need 3 wheelers.
This is super cool Ang. I’m looking forward to the blog, and the video. One for the books, as they say.