Reading the local news this morning I learned not all scooter riding is an exercise in quiet, gentle travel through the world.  Scooter horn angers driver in State College did give me a chuckle at first but it shortly turned into a sad commentary on the growing trend of anger on the pavement.

Most of my riding is designed to keep me away from heavy traffic where tempers may simmer.  And like a lot of riders I am decidedly passive, docile, and unassuming.  Yell at me, flip me off, cut me off, blow your horn, toss a Coke, and I’ll appear to be unaware of the world.  Riding  past a car with a texting driver, eating a cheeseburger and adjusting their hair and I’ll do nothing more than move away from them.  I don’t engage in pointless rants about danger and I certainly don’t endeavor to “educate” them on their failure to live up to the requirements of the road.  That kind of direct contact is fraught with more danger than the behavior in question.  One never knows who you are going to encounter in another vehicle, their state of mind, or what weapons might be on hand.

Anger is natural and you can’t really control those emotions but one certainly controls what actions they take in response.  The guy in the story didn’t make a good choice.

This evening I had to ride back to work to pick up a few things I needed to work on.  Without a Vespa in the garage I would have been grumbling the whole way back and home again.  But as an opportunity to take a little ride, well, you know the story of how therapeutic a ride down a lightly trodden path can be.

And I suppose it’s that grumbling frustration that causes the angry responses we get to read about or see on YouTube.  I always figured if I got out of my car to read someone the riot act they would have a Trunk Monkey.

Ah, the Trunk Monkey…

Not every ride’s focused on fun.  Sometime there’s work to be done, things to accomplish.  All of it goes better when I can use the Vespa.  On the road this evening I realized for the first time how long the days had become.  In less than a month the days will start getting shorter as we head towards winter.  Odd thinking about that in May — the sort of thing that pops into my head when I stop to make a selfie.

Looking at clouds continues to thrill me after nearly sixty years of gazing upwards.  I see Junior sleeping on my lap.  Wonder what I would see if I were riding a Harley instead of a Vespa?

A stop at the store was the main reason I was on the road.  Taking the long way home was just a fortunate coincidence.

Some routes are still closed and probably always will be but check them I do.  Never know when a bureaucrat will have a change of heart.  Could have easily ridden around the end of the gate and raced on through but that would be wrong wouldn’t it?

Still loving the Vespa.  Put a gun to my head and insist I confess to my deepest, darkest moto desire — a Vespa GTS.  Someday it might change but for now I remain smitten…

Roads like these remind me of younger days and dirt bikes.  Every kid wanted a mini-bike or go-kart and couldn’t wait to get a driver’s license.  Don’t see much of that anymore.  Now they’re craving Grand Theft Auto and Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2.  Having spent more than a few hours with Unreal Tournament I can kind of see the attraction.

I guess.  Still, I’ll take the Vespa and a dirt road.

All good errands must come to an end.  Heading towards Mount Nittany and on towards home always has a melancholy feel at the end of the day.  Maybe that’s part of the lure of riding, all those emotions and memories stirred up and making you feel alive for a moment.

Or maybe it’s something else…