Many neurologists believe there are 21 senses, not just the five we learn in school – touch, taste, vision, hearing and smell. Riding a scooter or motorcycle embraces the five and I expect a great many on the longer list. On a beautiful summer day riding along US Route 6 fires the nerves and ignites the brain. Riding is the spice of life, the additive to a day that makes life a feast.
Thoughts of spices for many raise ideas of food and culinary adventure. In the kitchen this evening I thought about the spice that has the most influence on my life and a way to reduce it to a photograph. I come up empty with spices unless, perhaps, I should have filled the red spoon with salt.
Instead I moved past food and on to the Vespa. Riding is the spice of life. In this life at least.
Makes little difference what you ride — any machine adds spice to existence. Looking through my photos I came across this one of a BMW F800 GS motorcycle made during a ride some years ago. I still remember the route through the forested hills south of home and the open stretches of highway to the west — that motorcycle spiriting me away physically and emotionally in an experience that lives today.
That’s spice. That’s what riding is about for me.
A few days ago I read something about arriving at the end of life and not regretting that I didn’t go to one more meeting at work. I understand what that means. At the last breath I imagine I’ll be thinking of spices — one last embrace of my wife, a smile from my kids, a look from the dogs.
And one more ride.