Saturday morning — bright, clean, a fresh world. Riding familiar roads and seeing them for the first time. Miles roll by as the clutter of hectic thought burns away leaving all things new. No destination or plan, just the rush of wind in my helmet, a born again virgin rider in spirit. The ride assumes a rhythmic beat of sense and recognition, of movement and gravity, churning forward and onward until all becomes a quiet meditation.
And in that moment another path appears — Vespa ready and rider willing, winding through a field, a stop and footed wander until there is nothing but a breath followed by another, and another, and another.
Hand pulling a camera from a jacket pocket, eyes sweeping across the horizon, building a memory, the camera at work for insurance lest noise and confusion overwhelm this remembered moment.
The Vespa across the landscape — the ride, the gift, the trembling joy of being alive.
I love to ride.
Mediation or Meditation?
Charlie6: Ack! The English language defeats me again! Thanks for the head’s up.
Dom:
My brain is slow but my mind interpreted the meaning as Meditation, even though it was spelled Mediation. I know what Steve meant.
Beautiful photos, as usual but, but your Vespa is in the wrong lane on the bridge
bob
Riding the Wet Coast
Those pictures just “feel” like Spring…
bob skoot: I discovered early on that you can park a Vespa just about anywhere since it is relatively narrow and stands up straight on its center stand. I put it where I need it for the picture. Sometimes right in the middle of the road…
RichardM: There is a quality to the light this time of year that does speak “spring”.