Tony Eaton: Muse

In my little mythic world, Tony Eaton is my muse. Or maybe he’s just the Chorus. I’d like to believe he inspires me to change and grow, but I’m afraid he is just clarifying the obvious that I’m too blind to see or too scared to admit. Take, for instance, one night when I met he and Lauren for dinner in Venice. I was living in Nashville and traveling back and forth to LA quite a bit. My head was full that night, so they were my first sounding board for a statement I needed to hear myself say out loud, but hadn’t had much practice in doing. “I think I’m going to make a move back to California.” The words were like passing a gallstone. I knew it would bring relief but I was afraid of the fallout damage it might cause. I feared only slightly less literal an ass tearing. “Yeah dude!” he said with smiley excitement. Later in the night, after red wine, beef and more practice in airing my thoughts on leaving Nashville, Tony was still smiling, offering up “Yeah dude, you would do good in this neighborhood. This is a great place for you. You should live right here.” We were at Hal’s that night. Six months later, I moved into a place about 3 blocks from there without even knowing it. Tony was right. It’s a great neighborhood for me.

Now onto the next big wave of Tony the Chorus. One day I rode my bike up to meet him in Venice for coffee. “Dude,” he told me in a tone most reserve for life saving advice, “You gotta get rid of that bike. It’s a piece of shit.” Yes, great to see you. I’m well, thanks. You’re right, smoking does cause cancer. I’ll give that some thought. “No dude. I’m not kidding. Buy a mountain bike. Buy a Specialized. Today. Do it. In Culver City.” My favorite thing about Tony’s advice is that -though he may be right – he doesn’t seem to take into account the it’s not always easily done. Even if he does follow it up with “Duh?!” to make sure you know how retarded you would be to do anything differently than what he’s just suggested. I shrugged him off. Yeah yeah, now you ride, so everyone has to buy a bike. But annoyingly, he was right. I hated my bike. My first mountain bike got stolen and I bought a hybrid thinking I’d get the best of both worlds. Instead, I got nothing from either world that I liked. I had a two-wheeled, heavyweight compromise. It was a piece of shit. But like the simple, “move to Venice” – which took all of my courage and most of my money to execute….his suggestion was not cheap or easy. Yeah dude, I’ll just go buy a new bike.

Today I returned from a ride up through the hills of Todos Santos. The sun was making its way upward into the sky as we climbed the sand, dirt and rock path along the side edge of a lookout. Palm trees, cacti, pacific and the stripes of tomato fields stared back from every direction I looked. I am not a great mountain biker yet…constantly forgetting which one “makes it easier” to peddle. The reference to gears that are “high” or “low” is so ridiculous for someone who struggles with “left” and “right”. So I bump along these days, trying to remember to look up and take in the scenery; praying that my lungs will catch up to the climbing altitude and mumble to myself constantly “thumb makes it easier…thumb makes it easier….” I did buy a Specialized after test riding everything else. I searched Craigslist for a bargain. There’s a woman in the valley who got a mountain bike for Christmas but wanted a cruiser. So I rolled away on her bike. And I’m riding. I am riding. Tony was right. I need to buy a bike, dude. So we can ride. I’m coming back. And maybe I can even keep up after riding down here for the summer. Can’t wait to see what my muse has conjured up for the next leg. Or maybe he’ll just sing out more truths that I already know are coming.