Scents

Today I drove across the San Francisco Bay Bridge into the City for the first time on my moto. Driving a car deprives one of many sensual experiences, especially the scents in the air. And I suppose sensory deprivation is an objective of automotive design. How did luxury come to mean being separate from the world around you?

Besides sitting much higher on my Aprilia than I do in a car, I am keenly aware of the scent, temperature and character of the air. My full-face helmet is vented in the front, and a steady stream of fresh, ambient air is provided to me to keep the visor clear for safety. But the real joy of a clear visor is found in the nose, not the eyes.

January 10th was remarkable in many ways: the weather was crystal clear, the air was transparent yet savory, and I found myself seeing things with a new relevance, a new perspective. I was going to join my dear friends for lunch in the Mission, but my adventure began when I crossed the Bay Bridge on my way to their home in the Avenues.

As I drove through City streets, I could detect specific smells which easily overpowered automotive and diesel exhaust. Nearing Golden Gate Park, I distinctly smelled Eucalyptus, as if I was in the grove myself. Along Fell Street, I was suddenly in an unmistakable cloud of cannabis, that sickly sweet smell which is unpleasant to non-smokers like me. Passing restaurants and bakeries, I smelled garlic, yeast and sugar. Each City block brought different scents, some new and some familiar.

I find it amazing how familiar scents can take one's memory back to a very specific event in time, perhaps a memorable meal, a "comfort" memory of one' s childhood, or even college days. The nose is deprived when in a car. But on my moto, I am more closely connected to the world.