That’s it exactly Ken. What the Vespa can do. Carry me away to a place different than the one I am in.

Thanks Don. I’m one year ahead of you soon. And I’m grateful to still be riding.

You take care of yourself as well and hopefully riding will someday be a more relaxed activity!

I’m glad I could provide some small shot of something useful.

Everything seems beyond grasp right now. Those I know who don’t feel that way seem to be able to disregard any risk associated to anything including the virus that rules my life right now. Such is the world.

As much as I like to walk, with or without dogs, with or without a camera, I’ve found it to pale in comparison to a ride. Warmer weather isn’t that far off now but I have no idea what I’ll have for choices to ride. As I read about the virus variant it all seems like a dark, science fiction story where a virus continues to mutate into more and more dangerous forms until we finally become zombies.

If I watch anymore streaming video shows I’ll be a zombie!

Well, I guess riding a Vespa is all about awareness. I mean Meta!

You’re become a more hardcore rider all the time. Big miles, cold weather, and the courage to brave the pandemic in Gotham. There are tales there I’m sure.

Handlebar muffs and heated gloves — the holy grail of winter riding hand comfort. A miracle. A godsend. It makes all the difference in the world.

Thanks for your comments about the photos. On the surface they are dark. It was a particularly dark day with heavy cloud cover. But they also seem warm and cozy to me. Had the sun been out they would have felt entirely different and perhaps weaker.

Relationships in the time of COVID. Sounds faintly like Love in the Time of Cholera! But what you say is true. And having someone who understands is a gift that both of us seem to be blessed with.

All is well here. Scheduled to get a COVID vaccine in less than two weeks. While it may reduce the odds of dying I fear it will have little effect on my day-to-day life.

Ride safe!

And, yes, my rides have been much more the former than the latter: my twice-weekly rides from home base to Gotham and back, usually a good 100 miles-plus for the day, the last such ride two days ago when temperatures didn’t even crack 40ºF. (The handlebar muffs, together with the heated gloves, have been the proverbial godsend.) The rides have been a tonic even when the scenes within Gotham have been incredibly sobering: shops and restaurants, largely closed; an outsized ghost-town that once was home, I could feel the wounds everywhere. The bitter cold didn’t help much here.

I had a tech gig near home today (for a change), and then went for a food shop and refueling for the bike. Once out of my gloves, my hands were in almost screaming pain from the cold…I hadn’t realized temps had sunk rapidly to below 25 degrees. The Costco gas station attendant couldn’t believe I was out on two wheels in this cold. I replied “But what about you? I’m getting colder just looking at you!”

And, I look at your photos in this post, and…wow. Deep, and dark…not necessarily in a menacing way (although they can certainly be interpreted that way), and wistful…I love the depth, the semi-secluded atmosphere here. Yes, “strangeness” is all around us now, in so, so many ways, but so is goodness, and the goodness of solace, which perhaps now a lot of people feel they have way too much of, but which for me, for too long in my life, was in very short supply, and which now can be something of a balm for contemplation. Mind you, it helps to have a life companion who mostly understands this, and also knows I understand the need for companionship as well. (Not as easy a balance to strike as some might think.)

The rides, chilly as they might be, are still so damned therapeutic. And, as a bonus, they make me appreciate my Spring-through-Fall rides all the more.

Thanks, yes again: I was thinking about you the last two days, and hoping all was well.