In my life, there exists a huge gap.
No, I don’t mean between my champagne taste and my Kool-Aid budget.
Rather, the biggest gap in my life is between concept and reality.
Here’s what I mean.
As a concept, I want a motorcycle. Specifically, a Harley-Davidson. I like everything about them. They look cool. They make lots of noise – just imagine being able to announce that you’re having a midlife crisis at 110 decibels. Even the ads for Harleys and the jackets you
wear when riding them are cool.
Then there’s the reality. I’m pretty uncoordinated. I mean, I can walk and chew gum at the same time, but barely.
The biggest mistake I could ever make would be to climb onto a huge Harley and try to ride it. It would be an accident looking for a place to happen.
As a concept, I also like convertibles. Once, when my wife and I were on vacation, we rented a Mustang convertible. We put the top down and drove around for about 10 minutes before we pulled over and put it back up, because I was freezing and our stuff was flying all over the
Interstate. With the top up, we weren’t nearly as cool as before, but we were warm and our things were staying in the car.
As a concept, my wife and I wanted to own a small farm. We bought 10 acres in southern Minnesota, where we raised apples, pears, vegetables, chickens — and lots and lots of weeds.
And boy howdy, did we work. I had heard that owning a small farm was like having a second full-time job. For us, it was several full-time jobs.
Just keeping the yard mowed took eight hours a week. That’s what happens when your yard is too big and your mower is too small.
Then there were the outbuildings, which constantly required repairs, roof fixes and paint. And don’t forget the 80-year-old farmhouse, which was built of lumber that had been milled onsite and wired by Thomas Edison himself. It required constant maintenance.
Then we agreed on the concept of updating the kitchen. The reality was that we ultimately remodeled every square inch of that house.
As a concept, I like writing columns. I mean, what could be more fun?
It’s like sitting down and having a conversation with yourself. But the reality is often a bit more stark. Staring at a blank computer screen is intimidating. As in, Yikes! What insightful, clever and/or inspiring things do I have to say this time around?
The only difference is that a column is a passing fancy.
You work like crazy on one to get it just right and then you move on to the next one. That’s a reality I can live with.
And it’s much better than hopping on a brand new Harley and driving it into a ditch.
Carl Sampson is a freelance writer and editor.
His next book is due out this fall.
