Not every ride on a scooter or motorcycle is a good ride.  Some rides are just too damn short.  As the day drew to a close and the weather was beginning to look ominous I had a sudden desire to go for a ride.  I can never be sure if it’s really a ride I’m after or just a chance to see the sky.  Nothing eases pent up mental claustrophobia like standing in a field and watching the race through the sky.  Or standing along the ocean and taking in the vastness of water and air.

So off I rode to the nearest promontory where I could take in a view and do it before the promised rain and thunder showers arrived.  As I write I realize that the forecast was wrong, the radar was wrong, everything was wrong including my reading of the sky that whispered “Get the hell home”.  The picture almost look tranquil but the wind was blowing hard on my balding head.  Blew my gloves off the scooter though luckily not the helmet.

I should know better than to leave my helmet on the seat.

The ride this evening was too short, too rushed to offer any sort of release.  Instead just a small sense of regret that I couldn’t stay longer and watch the world grow dark. At least the Vespa got me out.

Next ride will be different.