Ordinary moments on ordinary days in ordinary places. My riding of late is devoid of real or imagined adventure, flights of freedom, or provocations of the mind. Just little routine rides through town and country to meet goals and objectives. The Vespa sits alone along Allen Street in State College, Pennsylvania early in the morning before the world awakens and goes about it’s business.
Autumn is racing through the central Pennsylvania forests. I can’t keep track of the passage of time any longer as weeks have become moments. Each ride on the Vespa through the countryside is a small gift as time slows and I can drink in a bit of the world.
This evening I had business in town which required some level of synchronized dancing with the many pedestrians and vehicles still on the road before the witching hour. After some days confined to the four-wheeled cage it feels nearly sublime to ride through the dark and let the night air consume me.
Someone who saw my riding jacket in hard asked me if I was riding this evening and upon confirming their suspicions just nodded their head in conspiratorial agreement to the wisdom of the act.
Riding home in the dark I knew they were already plotting their own escape into their own routine ride.
