After a week without riding, I rolled it out of the garage, to test how far my still sore back has healed, and to quiet a mind grown restless from not being able to fly. Trapped in a riding-less life, it’s odd to observe how much mental space is consumed by riding. From waking in the morning and thinking about what gear might be appropriate to ride to work to gazing at night sky while the dogs run in the garden and wondering if it would be a good night to ride — it can seem like riding a Vespa scooter has taken on an unhealthy bite out of consciousness.
It’s like an addiction, gnawing at restraint, whispering rationalizations to reform reality, providing false evidence to gain what it wants — to be moving along on the road.
I took a short ride this evening, through the village and on to the park, a riding researcher collecting data coldly disconnected from desire and want. The prognosis is positive yet issues persist. An intentional “bump” triggered a groaning response from my back. Getting the Vespa on and off the center stand wasn’t a problem. Mostly, no issues or concerns.
Another night of sleep and I may be able to ride a Vespa scooter again.