Cold, raining and the approach of night — individually each reason enough to stay home and safe. Yet off I went on the wings of desire, a swiftly craved ride striking me from the warm embrace of a reclining chair, mind sudden burning with one thought — to be on the road.
It’s been weeks since I’ve been on the Vespa, illness sapping strength and desire and rendering me a mortal, non-riding man. How dim that life…
And suddenly the desire to ride flamed again. Who can ignore that call? Even if it leads to a field of soft mud…
I’ve walked this sidewalk in Boalsburg hundreds of times in all weathers and times of day; with dogs and friends, view cameras and Leicas. It’s home and I’ve yet to tire of it. Can’t fathom to call to stop the Vespa and stand again looking; as if it’s the last night of my life.
I can only think I’ve been inside for too long.
A fuel light on the Vespa’s instrument cluster returns me to earth and the local Sunoco station to add some high octane fuel to the tank. Part of me wants to keep riding — east or west, it doesn’t matter whether other than to stay on the road. But there’s business to attend to that I can’t, or shouldn’t ignore. The cold, damp air has started a cough, another pragmatic reminder that a swiftly craved ride may mask another goal — completely recover from the illness that’s dogged me for nearly two weeks.
So off home in the dark for food and work and chores — each made a bit more handsome as seen from the vantage point of smiling rider.