Scoot

One thing I love about riding the Vespa is I am out in the world. I see everything. I hear everything, in spite of the noise attenuation of the helmet.I'm not listening to the radio. I have to pay attention. I smell everything, something that surprised me when I first started riding, years ago.  I was totally aware of each of the five McDonalds to be found on my direct path to work. It is worth going around the block to avoid being behind a garbage truck in the summer. Today, I followed a food truck for a couple of blocks with incredibly enticing spicy smells until we stopped at a red light and I used my special scooter powers to zoom around it when the light turned green.  Scooting is fresh air and the illusion but not the reality of exercise. It's also an extra little fillip of adrenaline as each trip is another round of Beat the Reaper in DC traffic. I walk into the office with a smile, having cheated death again.

The little drama from the previous post haunted me all week. I was right there, sitting with them on the street, and my heart broke for the abandoned boy.  Is there a more miserable time in life than middle school? I surely don't know of it.

I've discovered I can't get away with a thing in this life. I park in the basement of my building, but enter via different doors depending whether I'm in the car or on the scooter. A guard scans my ID with a handheld electronic device, and I always say hello and chat about the weather. One day, on the scoot, the guard asked "do you ride with a bunch of guys?". He saw me go past on a Sunday morning with the scooter gang!

The gang rolls past my building - at the flagpole on the left

At Hains Point stop