The narrator rides a motorcycle through the American Central Plains with his eleven-year-old son Chris. It is a muggy July morning. The narrator points out a blackbird to Chris, but realizes that his son is too young to be impressed by the nature around him. Traveling by a motorcycle, the narrator comments, offers a much less passive experience of the surrounding world than a car ride. The motorcycle rider must be immediately present and attuned to his environment.
Chris and the narrator are on a trip from Minneapolis to Montana with the narrator’s friends, John Sutherland and his wife Sylvia, who ride a motorcycle ahead of them. They have no strict schedule and prefer to take uncrowded, rural roads to avoid the impersonal bustle of highways. The narrator uses his time on the motorcycle to meditate upon and discuss important issues. He calls this philosophical process the Chautauqua, a reference to traveling lectures that were popular in America at the turn of the 20th century. The philosophical question of interest at the moment is “what is good?”
The group stops for a rest. Sylvia reflects on a grim and dissatisfied-looking group of Monday morning commuters that she saw earlier. The four resume travel, and the narrator begins to discuss a “disharmony” he observes in John and Sylvia’s marriage. Despite the narrator’s urgings, John is opposed to learning how to repair his own motorcycle, an aversion his wife shares. The two are uncomfortable with the technology and prefer not to understand it. The narrator describes several occasions on which John’s motorcycle has broken down, yet John has inconvenienced himself by rebuffing the narrator’s efforts to teach him about motorcycle maintenance. There are very few shops in middle America that can repair John’s motorcycle, a BMW R60, but John has nevertheless brought no replacement parts and has no desire to learn how to do so himself.
The narrator also recollects a time he visited the Sutherlands’ house and found they had a leaky faucet. John had made only a perfunctory attempt to repair it, which failed, and the couple made no further efforts to fix it. He notices Sylvia lose her temper at her children and realizes that she has been worn down by trying to suppress her anger at the malfunctioning faucet.
The narrator realizes from these anecdotes that John and Sylvia are distressed by technology—or humankind’s mechanistic tendencies in general. They, like other “beatniks” or “hippies,” react against “the system” in a way that he finds self-defeating. To the narrator, technology is not to be utterly eschewed—the Buddha can reside in artifice as easily as it can in a flower.