There is a perennial classical question that asks which part of the motorcycle, which grain of sand in which pile, is the Buddha. Obviously to ask that question is to look in the wrong direction, for the Buddha is everywhere. But just as obviously to ask the question is to look in the right direction, for the Buddha is everwhere.

I've done two motorcycle pictures: I did 'Beyond The Law,' and I did one produced by Tarantino called 'Hell Ride,' with Dennis Hopper and David Carradine and Vinnie Jones. And I just think 'Hell Ride' was a lot more of what a biker movie should be. But the good part of 'Beyond The Law' was that I had a good time with Charlie Sheen.

If I wasn't in broadcasting I would like to grow a gigantic beard; and I would like to open a motorcycle garage somewhere in the desert in Nevada and I would disappear and work on bikes, make them really fast. I would love to just race motorcycles for a living if I could do it, but I'm just not that good at it so this is what I'm doing.

I followed a girl I met in Japan to Los Angeles and ended up working in a motorcycle store. I quit the job one night, went to a party in the Hollywood Hills and ended up yelling at a bunch of people. Someone saw me yelling and asked me to be in a play. The first night, there was an agent in the audience who took me on and sent me out for jobs.

It feels blessed to me. Because I go to comic cons, and people come up and they say, 'You're the reason I ride a motorcycle. You're the reason I became a mechanic.' And there are people who love 'Scream' and 'The Waterboy,' 'Royal Pains,' 'Parks & Rec,' 'Arrested Development.' And now 'Barry.' And then there are kids who only know me as an author.

My social life goes in bursts, where I get like, "Oh, I gotta get out and do something, man, I gotta do something." And I'll plan a trip and go on a motorcycle trip down the Baja Peninsula for 900 miles and I'll hang out with my friends for like a month, and then they'll never see me for two months or three months or whatever, and I won't answer any calls.

When a person has swum, traveled, run a lathe, planted flowers, ridden a motorcycle, made wine, painted a picture, parachuted, he has increased the fund from which he may draw for new figural developments. In other words, as the background of his experience becomes more diversified, it also becomes potentially more harmonious with a whole range of happenings.

I hated motorcycles. I said to my mother, 'I'll never get a motorcycle.' And she said, 'You never know what you'll want when you are older.' After that, the thing that scared me was not so much the motorcycle itself, but that I could turn into a person who would want one. I was scared of the idea that I could become an entirely different person, a stranger to myself.

A person filled with gumption doesn’t sit about stewing about things. He’s at the front of the train of his own awareness, watching to see what’s up the track and meeting it when it comes. That’s gumption. If you’re going to repair a motorcycle, an adequate supply of gumption is the first and most important tool. If you haven’t got that you might as well gather up all the other tools and put them away, because they won’t do you any good.

Motorcycle manufacturer Harley-Davidson is a prime example of an American company that uses employment conditions to boost productivity. Current CEO James Ziemer - who started with the company while in high school has negotiated imaginative contracts with the unions representing Harley's workers, agreeing to keep production in the U.S. in exchange for constantly reducing total labor costs through automating tasks and changing work rules. Because Harley regularly reassigns workers whose tasks have been automated to other parts of the company.

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