Have you ever tried to convince yourself that riding is a physical activity akin to exercise? That the calories and fat from a big breakfast would be burned away by a few hours of serious riding? Maybe you believe in flying saucers too.

Age, reason and the medical community sometimes intervenes suggestions to “engage in a little more exercise”. For me it’s taken the form of an early morning walk right out of bed. I picture myself just like Rocky running on the streets of South Philadelphia. I don’t drink raw eggs though.

A scooter or motorcycle exists outside the realm of normal. So do many of the riders. Those of us who choose to ride for pleasure, transportation, economy or other reasons are decidedly not among the mainstream that believe four-wheeled vehicles the safe and prudent choice. But being an outsider might make it easier to change. Maybe. Such are the thoughts drifting through my helmetless head as I pass by the Zion Lutheran Church.

Exercise isn’t as much fun as riding a Vespa. Or so I thought. With camera in tow as I move through town it is not unlike my riding. I see things, stop, look around and take pictures. Other than a lack of a convenient scooter to serve as model I’ve found the walks to be rewarding. I had to stop for a moment and ponder a store window display and ask why anyone would want a plaster dog when there are so many perfectly good real dogs around.

I passed through the stand of pines again this morning at the Military Museum and tried a picture at another angle. I’ll be back.

By the time I turned towards home it was beginning to get light. Still no rain but that could change suddenly.

The ride to work was dry under gray skies. I stopped a few times to make pictures much in the same manner as I did on my walk. It is a satisfying ritual that takes almost no time and just a little additional effort. I just wish they both counted as exercise.