Grab Hold of Your Joy
Motor scooters have been my preferred mode of transport in India, Bali, French Polynesia, Vietnam and the Caribbean. It’s one of my favorite ways to just be with a place – not to see anything in particular, but to experience the rush of images, the veil of wind and the freedom of a meandering mind.
I imagine that it feels like flying.
I traveled to six continents over a period of 20 years before I brought that visceral pleasure back home. Before that, whenever I saw someone riding a motorcycle or scooter, I wished it were me.
Why can’t it be me? I wondered. Always a long list of reasons: I can’t afford it; it’s too cold for too long in the Northeast; I live in an apartment – where would I keep it so no one will steal it? When I bought a house with a garage, I ran out of excuses.
At the time, I lived in Hartford, Connecticut – a quiet city with a population of 122,000. There are stretches of back roads that lead to neighboring suburbs where I rode my scooter – maximum speed 45 mph – while passing as few as two-dozen cars early on a Saturday morning.
My favorite road was in a town called Rocky Hill. The street was straight and flat enough that I could see far into the distance. My favorite moment came when I turned onto this strip and saw no other vehicles.
That’s when I pretended I was on Route 66 and let it rip while belting out Steppenwolf’s Born to be Wild.
Today is the day to grab hold of your joy.
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