Motocoyote stood and stared out at the Grand Canyon. He was almost alone on the ledge, save for a few foreign tourists with their selfie sticks that he could make out through the trees. They jabbered and shrieked and laughed, destroying the solace. But Moto was in his own world, lost in thought.
He thought back to his childhood. How many times had he told himself how great it was. His parents had set such a shining example of marital devotion, and raised their five children in a fine Christian home. But after listening to the first 8 hours of Millionaire Fastlane on the drive West, he could never think about his folks the same way again. Yes, they were good parents, but his dad hadn’t earned his keep since the 1960’s. Although now 87 and still kicking, his legacy was nothing more than that of an itinerant philosopher and professional bullshitter, a man who loathed personal effort of any kind yet spent money like a drunken sailor. Moto’s dad was the quintessential Sidewalker to a tee.
“Even if I come by it honestly,” thought Moto, “to define it is to deny it!” Moto turned and moved along the canyon rim, taking in the serene beauty, the rich haze, the deep blue sky melting into the North Rim ten miles across the way.
As for Moto’s mom, he held her in a different light. Aside from her current status as saint for the thankless and impossible service as his dad’s wife for almost 70 years, Moto had always been in awe of her selfless and giving nature. She provided value in every sense of the word. Maybe left to her own devices, they would have stayed rich.
You see, Moto’s mom had delivered five children, the last being Moto himself. Starting in the 1950’s, she devoted heart and soul to her family. She went off to work, and remained a loyal and dedicated Slowlaner, a bookkeeper to a brilliant entrepreneur who owned an emerging industrial powerhouse of a company. And then at age 44, when Moto was just 8 years old, she quit her job of 25 years to fulfill her lifelong dream of opening her own restaurant. She carried her entire family - not just her husband and younger daughter and Moto who were still at home, but all her grown kids, their spouses, her grandkids, and even some great grandkids - carried them through the restaurant business over the course of almost 30 years. Then they sold the company for $5 million at the most opportune time possible, January 2007.
But Moto’s dad’s legacy proved to be too powerful. His spendthrift ways and Sidewalker tendencies soon eroded the treasure that had been acquired over decades.
“It’s all F*cking gone!” Moto uttered out loud, just as a young couple hurried past on the pathway, averting his eyes.
Yes, just as he had thought with disgust so many times before, his parents were dead broke. Unbelievably, in 10 years they had squandered a fortune that took his mom a lifetime to acquire. Talk about Slowlane! It all made so much more sense to Moto now, but it didn't make it any easier to take. Now his elderly parents relied on the charity of friends and family to get by.
“Poor people have poor ways,” his mom would say with a look of exhausted resignation and a wry smile. Probably something heard as a child in the Great Depression, she could never fully escape the destiny of that mantra.
As Moto ambled along the trail on the South Rim, the sun was rising in the sky and the tourists were arriving in droves now. He thought about how much more impactful and special this moment, this view, would be if there were no other people around. He had always felt a little like a loner but never lonely, and enjoyed being alone with his thoughts, but Millionaire Fastlane was now swimming through his brain and his mind was racing. Truth be told, he was pissed! All the mistakes he had made, all the money earned and squandered, all the self-sabotage that had brought him to this point in his life.
Moto stopped and walked out on a rocky point that seemed suspended in mid air. He looked down into the canyon and wondered what it would be like to jump. He saw the Colorado River way down there, a tiny patch of murky green ribbon barely visible among the tans and browns and reds of the landscape.
“I have really F*cked things up!” said Moto in a low, insistent voice. “48 years old. Beautiful wife. Two teenage sons. One off to college in the fall. No money. No more savings. Slow moving deals with zero control over whether they get done. $250,000 in non-mortgage debt. And behind on all my bills!”
In that moment he remembered the $2.5 million in life insurance on his head. “I’m definitely worth way more dead than alive,” he thought. “That could cover everything and then some, pay off the mortgage, and provide a nice living for my wife and a good head start for my boys.”
Moto looked around and saw no one. He could jump and the insurance company couldn't prove it wasn’t an accident.
Just then, an older couple and their little dog rounded the corner and eyed him suspiciously. The woman smiled.
“You gonna jump?” she asked.
Moto was taken aback and took a half step away from the very edge. “Of course not!” he said convincingly and laughed.
“I was kidding,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “I would guess that you have way too much to live for!”
The man just stared at Moto blankly, as they moved on down the path and out of view.
Moto was embarrassed now. For starters, he would never seriously consider taking his own life. He was a fighter and that had always seemed like the ultimate forfeiture, the loser’s way out.
Life was truly beautiful and amazing, for all its hardship, and he had always been one to roll with the punches and find solutions. After all, he escaped the family restaurant business, which was never his dream, and charted his own path in the rough and tumble world of commercial real estate. He loved the business, but after all these years, he had never figured out how to deal with the feast or famine nature of it.
As Moto contemplated his momentary lapse of reason, Fastlane kept coming back into view. It seemed so familiar, so true, and he knew that it was the path he must follow from here on. He knew that while he had set himself apart from his father’s legacy of Sidewalker, he had also been one too. And now it was time to acknowledge that and move off the sidewalk and into the Fastlane. He was the only one who could solve this endless cycle of earning, spending, debt and struggle - and he was the one who would teach Fastlane to his kids.
Moto glanced across the canyon again, and saw how the trees on the rim framed the whole scene and put it into perspective. And he decided to go deeper.
He thought back to his childhood. How many times had he told himself how great it was. His parents had set such a shining example of marital devotion, and raised their five children in a fine Christian home. But after listening to the first 8 hours of Millionaire Fastlane on the drive West, he could never think about his folks the same way again. Yes, they were good parents, but his dad hadn’t earned his keep since the 1960’s. Although now 87 and still kicking, his legacy was nothing more than that of an itinerant philosopher and professional bullshitter, a man who loathed personal effort of any kind yet spent money like a drunken sailor. Moto’s dad was the quintessential Sidewalker to a tee.
“Even if I come by it honestly,” thought Moto, “to define it is to deny it!” Moto turned and moved along the canyon rim, taking in the serene beauty, the rich haze, the deep blue sky melting into the North Rim ten miles across the way.
As for Moto’s mom, he held her in a different light. Aside from her current status as saint for the thankless and impossible service as his dad’s wife for almost 70 years, Moto had always been in awe of her selfless and giving nature. She provided value in every sense of the word. Maybe left to her own devices, they would have stayed rich.
You see, Moto’s mom had delivered five children, the last being Moto himself. Starting in the 1950’s, she devoted heart and soul to her family. She went off to work, and remained a loyal and dedicated Slowlaner, a bookkeeper to a brilliant entrepreneur who owned an emerging industrial powerhouse of a company. And then at age 44, when Moto was just 8 years old, she quit her job of 25 years to fulfill her lifelong dream of opening her own restaurant. She carried her entire family - not just her husband and younger daughter and Moto who were still at home, but all her grown kids, their spouses, her grandkids, and even some great grandkids - carried them through the restaurant business over the course of almost 30 years. Then they sold the company for $5 million at the most opportune time possible, January 2007.
But Moto’s dad’s legacy proved to be too powerful. His spendthrift ways and Sidewalker tendencies soon eroded the treasure that had been acquired over decades.
“It’s all F*cking gone!” Moto uttered out loud, just as a young couple hurried past on the pathway, averting his eyes.
Yes, just as he had thought with disgust so many times before, his parents were dead broke. Unbelievably, in 10 years they had squandered a fortune that took his mom a lifetime to acquire. Talk about Slowlane! It all made so much more sense to Moto now, but it didn't make it any easier to take. Now his elderly parents relied on the charity of friends and family to get by.
“Poor people have poor ways,” his mom would say with a look of exhausted resignation and a wry smile. Probably something heard as a child in the Great Depression, she could never fully escape the destiny of that mantra.
As Moto ambled along the trail on the South Rim, the sun was rising in the sky and the tourists were arriving in droves now. He thought about how much more impactful and special this moment, this view, would be if there were no other people around. He had always felt a little like a loner but never lonely, and enjoyed being alone with his thoughts, but Millionaire Fastlane was now swimming through his brain and his mind was racing. Truth be told, he was pissed! All the mistakes he had made, all the money earned and squandered, all the self-sabotage that had brought him to this point in his life.
Moto stopped and walked out on a rocky point that seemed suspended in mid air. He looked down into the canyon and wondered what it would be like to jump. He saw the Colorado River way down there, a tiny patch of murky green ribbon barely visible among the tans and browns and reds of the landscape.
“I have really F*cked things up!” said Moto in a low, insistent voice. “48 years old. Beautiful wife. Two teenage sons. One off to college in the fall. No money. No more savings. Slow moving deals with zero control over whether they get done. $250,000 in non-mortgage debt. And behind on all my bills!”
In that moment he remembered the $2.5 million in life insurance on his head. “I’m definitely worth way more dead than alive,” he thought. “That could cover everything and then some, pay off the mortgage, and provide a nice living for my wife and a good head start for my boys.”
Moto looked around and saw no one. He could jump and the insurance company couldn't prove it wasn’t an accident.
Just then, an older couple and their little dog rounded the corner and eyed him suspiciously. The woman smiled.
“You gonna jump?” she asked.
Moto was taken aback and took a half step away from the very edge. “Of course not!” he said convincingly and laughed.
“I was kidding,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “I would guess that you have way too much to live for!”
The man just stared at Moto blankly, as they moved on down the path and out of view.
Moto was embarrassed now. For starters, he would never seriously consider taking his own life. He was a fighter and that had always seemed like the ultimate forfeiture, the loser’s way out.
Life was truly beautiful and amazing, for all its hardship, and he had always been one to roll with the punches and find solutions. After all, he escaped the family restaurant business, which was never his dream, and charted his own path in the rough and tumble world of commercial real estate. He loved the business, but after all these years, he had never figured out how to deal with the feast or famine nature of it.
As Moto contemplated his momentary lapse of reason, Fastlane kept coming back into view. It seemed so familiar, so true, and he knew that it was the path he must follow from here on. He knew that while he had set himself apart from his father’s legacy of Sidewalker, he had also been one too. And now it was time to acknowledge that and move off the sidewalk and into the Fastlane. He was the only one who could solve this endless cycle of earning, spending, debt and struggle - and he was the one who would teach Fastlane to his kids.
Moto glanced across the canyon again, and saw how the trees on the rim framed the whole scene and put it into perspective. And he decided to go deeper.
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