A quick post, a nod to commuting on the Vespa scooter, a recognition of the transformation from transportation to a flying freedom.
First, a confession. I don’t commute every day. Some days I shrink at the thought of riding to work. It could be the weather but more often it’s a state of mind mired with indolence and too many excuses to ready body and mind for the gift of riding. I know. It makes no sense.
But more times than not, I do ride to work. And one thing is always the same. When I am geared up and ready to go, walking toward the scooter in the morning light, I feel the thrill. It’s the same excitement from childhood as the prospect of doing something I’ve dreamt of doing. How great is that? A little ride on a two-wheeled machine can provide an old man such pleasure.
And one more confession. There are obsessive days where I lust for a ride. I care little about the weather and any mental misgivings are long swept away by a selfish drive to experience the thrill of riding. It accounts for sub-zero rides in winter or inappropriately late arrivals at work as I roll off a 5o mile detour. Again, what a damn amazing gift for an old man.
I think about riding when I wake. I think about it when I’m going to sleep. An addiction? Perhaps. But my life has not become unmanageable.
Who knows what the next commute will bring. And what of the longer rides to come? The real rides. The rides of dreams.
What will they bring an old man with a scooter?