The Heart of the Ride
I wake in the middle of the night and think. Sometimes about riding. More often about the deranged state of everyday reality. I prefer thoughts of riding. Of moving, traveling, experiencing. It’s the heart of the ride.
Autumn almost escaped. It’s the swiftest of seasons. The landscape changes from green to orange to a drab, monochromatic scene as the trees surrender to the power of autumn. I feel a physical and emotional quickening as time churns in me as it drags me toward winter. I know something is ending. And something else begins.
I find myself once again standing alongside the road with no idea where to go. A drifter on a scooter with nothing pressing to do. A ride on the Vespa affords me an opportunity to bear witness to the rapid transformation of color, light, and fragrance. And like so many rides without plan or destination I find my only goal is pushing the scooter out of the garage. Where I go from there is anyone’s guess.
It’s the journey that attracts me. The mystery. The tapestry of unknowable experiences that may await. And these are the things I think about while riding my Vespa. It doesn’t happen in the car, or even very often on the motorcycle. Riding the scooter takes me to the heart of the ride.
Continue Reading