Cold weather, snow, ice — winter, it’s robbing me of the will to ride, sucking away the riding life and condemning me to a life behind the wheel.  At least that’s how if feels.  I don’t know how riders who put their machines away in September and don’t get on them again until May do it.  I can only assume their souls are already gone, casualties of like in the north.  We’re ice people.

Thank god I was able to ride today if only for awhile, it recharged dead part of me, so what does it matter if the scooter took a tumble in the snow…

The past few weeks have been dark.

A friend asked how my life has devolved to a minivan.  With a straight face and in earnest I told him it’s a perfect vehicle; comfortable, spacious, useful.  Looking in the mirror that evening I wasn’t sure if I said those words or if some hollow man living inside was responsible.

Sunday morning trips to Saint’s have seen no signs of the Vespa in a month.

I could ride, have ridden in all but the worst of recent conditions of snow, ice and temperature.  But the desire is gone, not even a flicker of the old pull of the road.  Instead some insidious, pain in the ass voice keeps whispering of risk and danger.

It’s hell to get old.

Snow in town, a signal to leave the Vespa at home.  The old defiance is gone, the revolutionary voice quiet.  What kind of life is this?

Hot Earl Grey tea seems ordinary when I arrive warm and relaxed after a ride in the van.

I feel strangely disconnected from things when I’m not riding, reduced to the voyeur in life, watching but not participating.  Paul and Gordon are working, on this morning a review of prints made from Paul’s recent trip to Sicily.

With my point and shoot camera I’m the unenthusiastic tourist, content to watch the little screen display a life.  Winter, what a marvelous excuse to do nothing.

So many mornings the road is covered with something that tells me to leave the Vespa in the garage.  A lot of mornings.  In past years this would not have stopped me but I sense a fragility of body and spirit right now that makes it easy to melt into a bucket seat with heat at my fingertips.

This morning temperatures soared into the 40s and reaching towards 50.  Junior and I made our rounds and as I watched him I realized he doesn’t let the weather get to him, especially when I get out the big ball that won’t get lost in the snow.

The Vespa has been lost in the snow.

By afternoon the sun had warmed the world and I just had to go for a ride.  A short one.  A ride to re-establish a connection to the scooter.  So here I am, on the road and happy.

Everything is melting and water is everywhere.  When the temperature drops below freezing tonight there will be a mess of ice and obstacle.  Who knows if the Vespa will move again at dawn.

For now I just have to be careful and not let the exuberance overtake good sense.  Like the opportunity to learn that the Vespa will run while laying on its side, the result of plowing through the snow and stopping to take a picture without thinking about the centerstand sinking into the mud.

Oh well, the snow was soft.

The weather forecast shows more snow and cold not far off.  I’m so tired of it all.

Something has to change. (Cue Dom)