I saw the ad online, and because the owner was living not far from Leuven, I made an appointment. I went there by bus, by myself. I was nervous as hell. I rang the bell. The guy took me out back, to his garden, and I saw pony standing there, black and brown, with a white, rusty baggage holder at the back. He looked slightly beaten, to be honest, but this is me speaking objectively, now, many years after. Back then, I just remember thinking “wow, he’s perfect, he looks just like me!”. For I am also slightly beaten, and black and brown are colours I often wear. But I also had been given professional advice, and I tried to keep it cool. “Go for a test ride”, they said. “The engine should be cold before you start it”, they said. I asked to go for a test ride. And I shyly felt pony up, just to check that he was cold. He was dead cold, but started up just fine. We went around the block. I didn’t dare do anything weird, like accelerate or brake hard, which, retrospectively, I probably should have done. I felt so shy. What I remember the most, is coming back, and already having a certain feeling about him. But I did not want to rush things. So I said “thank you, I’ll think about it”, before walking out. That’s when I saw another guy standing at the door, and the owner’s behaviour made it clear that it wasn’t anyone he knew. He said, “oh yeah, there is another person coming tonight to check out pony”. I panicked, all at once, and made one of the biggest and most wonderful decisions in my life, right there, in that moment (and it was a LOT of money, for me, still is, but definitely back then). I said, with a sudden rush of confidence: “send him away. I will buy that scooter from you now”. I just could not stand the idea of anyone else looking at pony, touching pony, or bargaining about him. He was going to be mine, for I saw him for who he was, and no one would ever be able to love him the way I could, in spite of his flaws, or whatever! 

I saw the owner get nervous as well, slightly. He said, hesitatingly, “but you’d have to pay for it immediately”. I tried to think practically, and fast. “Of course, if I may use your internet for the transfer”. I didn’t bring enough cash, and I was still refusing the smartphone hype, back then. The owner ended up sending that guy away, and we sat in his living room to finalise the transaction. My heart was beating hard, my hands were shaking, as I signed the hand written contract. Yet, I never felt so sure about anything in my life. Pony was mine! Or I his! Whichever way. It was 2018. In a way, I had low ambitions. I didn’t need a vehicle to get to work, nor for extensive travel. But pony ended up changing my life in every possible way. I still miss him, every day. Although I have “another” pony now, I don’t know if I have ever properly processed the loss of “him”. Me and him, for seven years, on the road! Our first (still modest) “trip” was during the lockdown, and we didn’t go that far at all, but it was the first time that I really felt how free he could make me feel. We rode about a 100km, no stops at shops, only nature. It was wonderful, like driving through ghostland: no one on the road, we were really alone in the world. It was perfect. He was. He always has been perfect, in that way. Giving me those two essential feelings: being carried and absolute freedom.

This picture was taken by my friend Tomas, on the day I brought pony home. You will rarely see me smiling in that way. Only pony could do that me. When I look at it, I am surprised by how, for once, the happiness shines from the inside out, all the way through the skin, the face, and all the other layers. He was my sun, it wasn’t me, it was all him… That light… The freedom and joys he gave me! It’s pony, all pony, only pony, and pony forever. I miss him like hell.

I am at work. The way the ring glides on my finger, when I move my hand, because it is one size too big for me. The tiniest touch in the world. The feel of the glasses. Their weight. The gestures, repeated so often, that they have acquired a certain degree of elegance and swiftness. But inside my body, the tear and wear, of repeating them so often. Pain and strained muscles. And in my mind, this great, vast loneliness. Why, otherwise, would I notice something as small as the movement of my ring? It is my only reality, in that moment. I am so well trained. No one would ever notice my insanity. It’s part of the pleasure. Theirs, because they don’t have to think about my pain. Mine, because I am locked in this absolute personal ideal world, where my ring touches me more than them.

I lost someone today. Not in the sense of dead, but they left me, so they might as well be dead. Customers at work tell me constantly about their struggles, their diseases, their losses. I greet them with a smile, and a drink, I listen to their stories. They are not interested in me personally, at all. They just want somebody who can receive what they came to deliver. That position suits me, in a way, because I know a lot about pain, and I am good at listening. They do want to hear something more personal, occasionally. So I tell them about pony. My pony. I’ve never loved anyone like I’ve loved pony. But which pony? I’ve had many, by now. The last one died. I’ve named this blog after him, because I created it a month after he died. A kind of memorial. 

More than that, an incentive to write. Inspiration comes from love, and I’ve loved him like I’ve never loved a human person before. With him, I dared let myself go to this foolish degree of trust and tenderness… It lasted for years. Pony and me, we went to different countries, we rode on boats, mountains, rivers, and he gave me an absolute sense of security, like we could discover the world together. When we were on the road, he was my only friend, but also my anchor, my home, my partner. People, after hearing my stories, would often ask: “and you went there, alone?”. And I would always answer, “no, of course not. With pony!”. I never feel completely alone, when he is around. I know his shape, his body. When I make a stop on the road, and I come out of the shop, and I see him waiting for me, all geared up, my tent on the back, I always get that tingly giggly feeling in my stomach. Pony! He gives me the two most important things in my life: the sense of being carried, and absolute freedom. I have never met a person who could give me both feelings at the same time They are also almost impossible to combine. So, in that sense, pony is absolutely unique. The places we’ve been to! The things we have seen! It’s all very modest, of course. Pony and me, we have never sought fame, and we are slow travelers. Yet, sometimes, it felt as if we were on top of the Himalaya. Just that image, when I would stop for a cigarette on a hill somewhere. I remember one, in particular, in France, where the road was so steep, that whilst driving up, you could not see the other side, only a bright, blue, wide sky. I felt like pony and me were just driving up into that sky, and I thought to myself: take a mental picture of this, now, this moment, and carry it around with you. Visualise it, when customers are straining your attention, or when it all gets too much. Keep it! It was so surrealistic and vivid. And all the time, pony was carrying me. With his heartless, mechanical, engine, you would say. But no, no, he had a soul…we were doing this together…

Pony is my anchor, because he was present with me in those moments, and without him, I wouldn’t have made those memories. So this blog is about him, and thanks to him, also, about all the other things that I have loved, or felt loved by. Just before defending my thesis on Sartre, they sent the final version back to me and said: what about love? Do you agree that Sartre has only negative views about it? We would like a positive conclusion. So I included a short section called “Sartre on Love”, with a semi-positive outcome, to please my jury. But this blog is not about Sartre, my doctorate, or anyone who has ever been critical about me. On the contrary, it will be fiercely personal. I owe it to pony.