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A Moment of true inspiration So one random summer weekend I had decided to get on my motorcycle and go on a road trip (that's the kind of thing you can do on a whim when you're a single male in your mid-twenties). I had only a idea in mind; camp out Friday night near Camp Verde, make my way over towards the 4 corners/monument valley for camping Saturday night, then the long trip back on Sunday, probably going through Payson and back down to Phoenix via the Beeline highway. Saturday morning rolls around and I can't get my bike started. Try as I might I just couldn't get the thing started. Understand, I was an expert at jump-starting my bike. For the past couple of years it had trouble starting on cold mornings, so nearly every day you could see out in the parking lot pushing my bike back and forth. I usually got it on the first try, sometimes two. very rarely did it take a third try, and never more than that. But on this particular day it just wasn't happening. Double check the gas... yup, plenty in there. 10 tries. 20 tries. Each successive failure bringing a little more into focus the reality that this might not work. Each new attempt the increased effort brought on by the desperation was cancelled out by the increased exhaustion from the previous one. Finally, I gave up. Dejected, I managed to hitch a ride the rest of the way up to flagstaff. On the way up I decided the battery must be , so my plan was to buy a new battery and then get a bus ride (or hitch) back down to my bike. I got to the mall by mid-morning and found an auto parts store. Funny thing about motorcycle batteries though, they are not pre-charged like a car battery is. Those you can put right in and drive off, but a motorcycle battery has to sit on a charger for like 6 hours before it's ready. So I start wondering just what exactly I am supposed to do for the next six hours when I notice a bookstore. I had no idea what I would get, but I thought I could a little time in there. Within a few minutes I found the Vonnegut section (guess I started at Z not A), and noticed they had "Slaughterhouse 5". I recognized the name, and that book specifiy, because it was been mentioned on the back cover of my copy of "Gravity's Rainbow". So I got it and that's what I spent my day doing. My rugged road trip and turned into a sunny flagstaff summer day, spent sitting under a shady tree reading my first Vonnegut book. I'm a slow reader; a lot of times I stop go and think about what I just read, and those thoughts lead to my own tangents and so on. But Vonnegut is a fast read (reminds me of Hemingway in that way), and I managed to finish the book and have time to eat before the bus heading back down to phoenix left. The bus driver was nice enough to let me off at Camp Verde (he isn't supposed to do that), and the bike started up on the first try. I've since then read about 10-15 other books by Vonnegut, and he's definitely my favorite author. I can truly say that I would not be the same person today if I had not read his books. That's the thing about great art, it's not just some amusing thing to pass the time with, it can actually have an impact on people and how they think. Isn't it funny how something can seem like very bad luck at the time you're experiencing it, but then later you realize that it was actually good luck? I haven't thought about Vonnegut in a long time, thank you for indulging me.