The New York Times called the book, "profoundly important". "Extraordinary", said Newsweek, and "a horn of plenty", from the Los Angeles Times. The book by Robert Pirsig was his 1974 classic, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. In it are remarkable insight penned by the 170-IQ computer manual tech writer, university professor and philosopher before his passing away at 80 years of age not so very long ago.

In the book's preface, Pirsig explains that, despite its title, "It should in no way be associated with...orthodox Zen Buddhist practice. It's not very factual on motorcycles, either." His words, not mine. Thus Pirsig himself disavowed any connection with Zen and his project, admiringly naming the book after another author's, written some 25 years prior, titled, Zen in the Art of Archery, which similarly celebrated subconscious pleasure states and their influence on excellence. There is actually nothing religious in either book. Nor is there here. Following are just a few of many of Pirsig's many insights, snatches of brilliance that as a career mechanic I find resonating with my own views. I apologize for taking the liberty of editing some of his comments for the sake of clarity.

The seeming indifference of mechanics
"Why did they butcher it so? The radio was a clue. You can't really think hard about what you're doing and listen to the radio at the same time. Maybe they didn't see their job as having anything to do with hard thought, just wrench twiddling. If you can twiddle wrenches while listening to the radio that's more enjoyable. Their speed was another clue. They were really slopping things around in a hurry and not looking where they slopped them. More money that way--if you don't stop to think that it usually takes longer or comes out worse. But the biggest clue seemed to be their expressions. They were hard to explain. Good-natured, friendly, easy-going--and uninvolved. They were like spectators. You had the feeling they had just wandered in there themselves and somebody had handed them a wrench. There was no identification with the job. No saying, "I am a mechanic." At 5pm or whenever, you knew they would cut it off and not have another thought about their work. They were already trying not to have any thoughts about their work on the job."

Pirsig, in relating an unfortunate experience with a motorcycle repair shop, posits some important and very valid conclusions. Not many will agree with the comment about radios, but I feel pretty strongly about it. I found the constant barrage of rock music the most irritating part of being a shop mechanic working for other people. I am so happy to be away from that, I can't even tell you. Believe what you want, that stuff makes a difference in your mental state. Further, I heartily concur with the observation that many mechanics I have known seemed to work as if their minds were somewhere else. Disengaged. "Working for the weekend," as the saying goes. I'm sure I have at times been guilty of it myself. Mechanical work is logical
"Not everyone understands what a completely rational process this is, this maintenance of a motorcycle. They think it's some kind of a "knack" or some kind of "affinity for machines". They are right, but the knack is almost purely a process of reason. A motorcycle functions entirely in accordance with the laws of reason, and a study of the art of motorcycle maintenance is really a miniature study of the art of rationality itself."

Though most mechanics schools simply immerse their students in the physical work of maintenance and repair, and rightly so, at some point the element of reasoning things out logically becomes extremely important. It seems a mark of our culture to believe in shortcuts for everything. When dealing with electrical malfunctions, but also when diagnosing engine performance issues, I find the people I help by email and by phone are not willing to be scientific, systematic. They think it too much bother, it seems. Everyone believes in and is looking for the "silver bullet".

Mechanical work is essentially cerebral
"Now I want to talk about logic. (Problem solving) is achieved by long strings of mixed inductive (going from observation to knowledge) and deductive (going from knowledge to observation) inferences that weave back and forth between the observed machine and the mental hierarchy of the machine found in the manuals. (One) sets up hypotheses for these (possible problems) and tests them. By asking the right questions and choosing the right tests and drawing the right conclusions, the mechanic works his way down the (decision tree) of the motorcycle hierarchy until he has found the exact cause or causes of the failure. An untrained observer will see only physical labor. But the physical labor is the smallest and easiest part of what the mechanic does. By far the greatest part of his work is careful observation and precise thinking. He is concentrating on mental images, hierarchies. He is looking at underlying form."

This paragraph is golden and begins to explain how many of those outside the industry mistakenly view the mechanic's work. Everything performed on a motorcycle is important and deserves careful attention to detail. However, there is very little of real benefit that is performed in terms of repair or maintenance that is not the better for careful thought, study, and wide-eyed observation. He goes on:

"The real purpose of scientific method is to make sure (assumptions) haven't misled you into thinking you know something you don't actually know. There's not a mechanic or scientist or technician alive who hasn't suffered from that one so much that he's not (intuitively) on guard. That's the main reason why so much scientific and mechanical information sounds so dull and so cautious. If you (instead) get careless or go romanticizing things, giving them a flourish here and there, (your own ignorance) will soon make a complete fool out of you. It does it often enough anyway even when you don't give it opportunities."

This is my favorite Pirsig quote! Not only is it brilliant, it's so very true! Even after more than fifty years as a mechanic, I still occasionally find myself questioning long-held assumptions and consequently learning new ways of looking at something I thought I really understood.

The state of mind that results in quality work
"Sometimes just putting off the job for five minutes is enough. When you do you can almost feel yourself grow toward that inner peace of mind that reveals it all. That which turns its back on this inner calm and the quality it reveals is bad maintenance. That which turns toward it is good."

When troubleshooting starts feeling like a struggle, it's a tipoff that you are at that moment troubleshooting two things at once--the machine and yourself. To do good work you have to disengage from that. Or as Pirsig says:

"You can actually see this fusion in skilled mechanics and machinists of a certain sort, and you can see it in the work they do. Artists, they (give) patience, care and attentiveness to what they're doing, but more than this--there's a kind of inner peace of mind that isn't contrived but results from a harmony with the work. The material and the craftsman's thoughts change together and his mind is at rest at the exact instant the material is right. Somehow (as a society) we've gotten into an unfortunate separation of those moments from (our) work. The mechanic I'm talking about (the pro) doesn't make this separation."

Yes! It's classically stated that one of the signs of a pro is economy of motion. His hands go cleanly, smoothly, unhesitatingly from one step in a complex operation to the next. It is very fulfilling. The joy the mechanic experiences in his work increases as he gets closer to perfecting and finishing the task, not because of mere completion, but because the machine and the mind are in a kind of agreement, a partnership, as the optimum condition and adjustment of the assembly is reached. It results in a secure, happy confidence that the end result is going to work well. It's an extremely pleasurable experience.