“I need to go for a ride.” No other words are necessary — Kim knows what it means, I know what it will do. Chicken soup for the soul.
As the days get longer, the temperatures warmer, going for a ride is a bit easier that winter night journeys. Like rocking a baby to sleep, a ride does wonders in realigning outlook and disposition. Moving towards the sunset on a clear evening, watching the sky fade, makes everything ok. At least if I’m paying attention.
Nice to be able to pull off the road now without battling piles of ice and snow.
All the traffic seemed to be leaving town. I love being headed in the opposite direction of everyone else though I’m not sure why.
Spring break in State College, Pennsylvania as Penn State students have abandoned the campus. I have all the motorcycle parking to myself at the moment — here outside Five Guys burgers where I stopped to bring something home for dinner.
Still some snow on the north sides of the mountains. By the end of the week I suspect there will be little of the white stuff left. Don’t care much about any of it. Just letting myself wander home on the scooter, dodging gravel and grit, watching the sky.
Just a few miles can drain away the torment and afflictions of the day. Standing along the road staring at nothing, thinking of nothing, my body knew I could go home.
Sometimes I just need to go for a ride…
Yeah, thanks for Spring Break. They are all down here and you haven’t trained them very well at all to respect old men on scooters. Please have their parents send more money. Thank you.
They’re all back now. We’ll see how well you trained them in the sunshine to respect old men on scooters in the north.
Hope the Keys are still in good working order.
Martha calls my riding: “Prozac on wheels”……
“Prozac on wheels”. I like that. Not to diminish those suffering that need pharmaceutical intervention but I do accept the idea that an activity can have a wonderful influence on one’s mental outlook.
I wonder what other things riding has been called? I think I’ve also heard, “Clears the cobwebs…”
My physciatrist used to be riding my motorcycle. Alas alack, that won’t happen any more.
Now I have a psychiatrist in an office (or as recently from a hospital bed) who I see once every two weeks, more or less if am having a really rough patch. The drugs don’t always do the trick; now the government pays my psychiatrist through my taxes, and I get to be told am mentally and p hysically unable to do this or that, ever again.
And yes thedays are longer now that at least in this clime the clock have move forward one hours. Still three foot high piles of snow everywhere, however compared to the six foot piles two weeks ago, an improvement.
Enjoy yourself Steve, especially with the older rugrats on spring break…
Reading your comments I could not help but think of the March of time and what it means. Change, change and change. Riding is probably a simple answer compared to not riding.
Hope the snow drifts clear soon for you.
Prozac, Zantac, meditation on wheels. Those of us into scooting know very well the medicinal advantages of scoot in’ for scootin’s sake. Most of the time it is pure euphoria!
You’re right about euphoria. I can count on a little of it on every ride!
I feel the same way even though I’ve been riding all winter. It’s very addicting.
The winter is soooooooooo long up here. Getting pretty anxious myself.
Soon, soon, winter will be gone!