Riding under a strong, dramatic sky on a fall day lends offers a certain je ne sais quoi. I feel something different in my blood, an excitement shimmer through my bones just being on the road and moving. Scenes that pass with vague indifference in a car ignite my imagination on the Vespa. Or any motorcycle I have ridden in fact. Those skies don’t favor one machine over another.
This time of year, with bigger shifts in temperature and light, I find a rolling unfolding of aerial tapestry that threaten to cut my rides short as I stop and watch shafts of light sweep across a field, clouds pass overhead in a collage of shapes and forms rekindling memories of childhood spent lazing on a hilltop just watching the sky, free of worries beyond being home in time for dinner.
On days I can’t ride to work I often find myself rolling the Vespa from the garage and heading down the road “just for a short ride” I promise Kim. An unwinding of the strangling energy of a busy day, the quick thrill of flying over the pavement, the momentary fantasy of freedom that a ride can bring. And then, an image of something so ordinary and familiar beckons for attention. Standing along the road, not far from home I look and wonder and make a picture.
The Vespa is elegant in its mechanical simplicity and continues to surprise me with its faithful performance and willingness to tackle anything I’ve asked of it, from smooth pavement to gravel paths to snow covered roads. I would be lying to say I have not considered other machines, imagined different rides in different ways on motorcycles that have caught my attention. But I continue to be glamoured by the Vespa, it’s magical hold clouding my mind, calling me back, over and over again to the silver scooter.
The important thing is to ride. Even for just a few minutes — that’s all it takes. Here I stopped to look back towards home, watch the sun go down, and express some gratitude for being alive and walking on the earth.
I never do that when I’m driving.
So I keep riding. For fellow riders keep riding. For those would be riders reading and dreaming, take the leap, assume the risk, and find some magic.
Especially now, under those hypnotic fall skies, cool days and fast changing colors.
Nice thoughtful, peaceful post. Just what I needed this afternoon in a hotel room three hundred miles from home. Thank you.
Beautiful pictures and it does seem nice and peaceful even with the clouds looking like they are ready to dump a bunch of rain. The trees look like they are still holding onto their leaves or it it my imagination.
Richard
Irondad: Glad I could help with something positive. I’m familiar with the hotel grind when on the road for business.
RichardM: You have a good eye for leaves. All but one of these pictures were shot during a ride about two weeks ago when the leaves were just thinking of turning.
Today things are radiant in fall colors. That’s for another post!
There is something very special about the sky this time of year. It seems the only days I haven’t taken a picture of the sky and clouds were a couple of days of clear deep blue cloudless sky. I never much noticed the sky when I was driving. I’m better at it now, but still not so good. The only other time close to the experience of seeing I have riding my Symba were the hours spent driving a tractor back and forth working in the fields on the farm I grew up. I’m not much for speed or the twisties, but I do love being out in the elements. Yes, I’m old enough that my tractor time was before climate control cabs.
Steve:
Your words are pure poetry but I agree, sometimes it just feels nice to “just be” and enjoy life.
bob
Riding the Wet Coast
Circle Blue: “being out in the elements”…
I think that is a big part of why I ride in the winter. Something primal almost, a sense of facing something bigger than myself. Not sure exactly but your comment struck a chord of understanding.
Keep riding that Symba!
bobskoot: No sure about poetry but thanks for the comments.
Riding does create a sense of connection to the world. Maybe that’s the poetic part?
Dear Sir:
Great pictures of clouds and still green fields.
I regret having missed this post, but I checked for days and days for nada… Then suddenly, there were two.
There is nothing like fall skies before thew temperatures drop into the 30’s. Some days, the skies appear angry, but they are just one of the best seasons in transition.
Speaking of transition, I am in one of my own, and haven’t been myself lately… Either that, or more of my real self is leaching into the front I present the crowd.
Fondest regards,
Jack/reep
Twisted Roads