I think some people and things have a recognizable feature, characteristic or, I call it, a "Hook."
The Hook can be many things.
Musicians can have a Hook. If four guitarists play four separate bits of music, and three of them are Santana, Knopfler, and Clapton I think I could tell who is who. The fourth guitarist is me and I have no Hook, no notoriety here.
At one time Chicago’s three horn players could hit a note and I’d know it. I bet there are hundreds of great makers of music that can be identified by a Hook.
Then there are cars and bikes.
A 5.0 Ford Mustang V-8 has its own tone, as do Ducatis and Harley-Davidsons. BMW R-bikes also have a familiar tone, but it can easily be confused with a Singer sewing machine. Hey, I have one so I can say that.
I bet you can name a bike riding past your home just by the sound. Just by the Hook.
For me, the hood scoop on a Subaru WRX can be seen a mile away, and the STi Wing sets it even further apart from other Turbo Japanese offerings.
There are hooks found all over the world…
No one confuses seeing the Statue of Liberty with Los Angeles, Stonehenge with Tokyo, or the Eiffel Tower with Des Moines.
Hooks spread through our culture.
Consider Halloween; a long black cape and a bad European accent – Dracula. Bolts out of the neck? Frankenstein's monster. Not to be seen at all? Obviously, the Invisible Man.
But like Clark Kent without the cape and Batman without the cowl – well, you have Clark and Bruce walking down the street – maybe holding hands as it is okay, and I ain’t here to judge.
So what’s your point, Brian? What’s your Hook? Okay, I am getting to it…I had to fill three or four hundred words first. You might call that ‘padding.” I call it deeper embellishment.
I was having lunch with Fred & Cherrie Rau a bit back and we were talking about Americade, and how Fred was such a staple of this great touring rally. Fred stated there were times he could not even stroll across the parking lot at Roaring Brook Ranch without being stopped for a photo, an autograph, and just for a friendly hello.
But, knowing his own Hook, he took off the all-too-familiar cowboy hat and spent a few hours strolling around the Expo – barely noticed.
Our friend Clement Salvadori also has his version of the Hook. The famed Salvadori beret. I can remember just a very few times I have seen Clem without the beret atop his noggin’. This is a brim of iconic status. For those of you who are curious – Clement does buy his berets exclusively from one haberdashery - John Helmer, in Portland, Oregon - Johnhemmer.com.
The Rau’s agreed and Cherrie commented that I should have gotten a Hook like a hat or something decades ago. You know? She was right. I have wasted all these years in obscurity. I thought a bit more about this and began to wallow in my self-pity and thinking of what could have been. A baseball cap? Nah, too ubiquitous. Maybe I should have gone for a Napoleonic Tricorne, or the Breaking Bad Pork Pie? A Panama, Top or Stove Pipe. The Bowler worked for John Steed, or how about; wait a minute…! What was I thinking?!
I did have the hook… 135 lbs. of Hook.
People never recognize me, but when they see Shira then they spot me, and then they say, "Hey, it’s Shira… and Brian!”
Holy crap… Shira has been my Hook all along. Who knew? Not me.
I told Fred and Cherrie this and they burst out laughing… and they agreed about people seeing her… and then me.
I might as well change my name to Griffin.
I thought it funny, and unlike a hat or beret, I cannot simply hang my Hook in the closet…well, I could but then the police would get involved. Again.
Okay, let’s keep all this under our hats.