I swear it was 80 degrees last week.  This morning it’s snowing.  I feel as if I’m living in one of those science fiction disaster movies where the world is about to end in some cataclysmic natural conflagration.  Despite my imaginings I took the opportunity for one last ride in the snow.  A few moments is all it takes to douse the little Canon G9 camera with liquid ice while making this picture.

Wet, heavy snow, falling at the freezing mark is more a problem of vision than of traction.  Large globs of icy slush gather on everything while at the same time fog becomes almost impossible to remove from the inside of the visor.  Still, it was one last time in the snow.  Call me crazy but I’m drawn to it.  And now I expect warmer weather ahead…

What would it be like to look out on a different part of America every morning for a week?

On Sunday morning scooter riders from across the country will be in Savannah, Georgia to embark on the 2012 Cannonball Run — an eight day, 2500 mile race to Motorsport Scooters in San Diego, California.  It’s a big ride for a scooter.

I would have forgotten had it not been for the timely email notification from Scootin’ Old Skool — thanks Orin!

The biannual race is fun to follow as the riders make their way across America.  There are a variety of places to keep up with the action and informative for anyone considering a scooter but have doubts about their capabilities.  Vespa, Piaggio, Yamaha, Kymco, Stella, SYM, Honda and Suzuki are all represented.  There’s even a 1961 Sears scooter in the race.

Official Cannonball Run 2012

Followride.com

Cannonball Run 2012 on ModernVespa.com

Dying light, the gathering gloom descending on the ride home from work.  Cold enough that my hands chill quickly when I handle the Canon G9 camera without gloves.  I can’t quite get the camera to do what I want it to do with those thick winter Tourmaster gloves.

Stay just a bit late at work and the light disappears quickly, especially on an overcast day.  Riding is bright.  I find unexpected satisfaction in cutting through the grayness on a cold evening.  Riding is an affirmation of living.  It is a reminder of breath and sight and feeling.  It’s so far from being behind the wheel I can’t begin to describe the experience.

One last stop on the way home to scramble up the concrete beneath the overpass.  Standing with the camera I wonder if a passing police car will think “terrorist” as I photograph in my bumblebee riding suit.  More likely “idiot”.

When I think of injuring myself during riding more often those thoughts arise as I am finding places to shoot a picture.

And on down the through the gathering gloom to home and hearth and a cup of tea.  Or two.

Solitude isn’t found in a city. Urban riding is more combat than pleasure. A motorcycle is the last thing I’d want on the pavement in Cleveland.

I was wrong.

Standing on a transit platform in the middle of Euclid Avenue I could feel the draw of the pavement. Walking in the city revealed endless pathways for exploration. Even in the heaviest traffic I could less streets less traveled.

Too bad my Vespa was far away. For now I’ll make myself content watching other riders on the streets of Cleveland.

— Posted from my iPhone