Taking the long, less-traveled road
Posted: Tue Jun 19, 2007 4:33 pm
Last week, I took my scooter from Sterling, Virginia, to Baltimore, Maryland—the long, scenic way. It turned into an 80 mile, 4-hour trip.
I had been so stressed out, due to relationship issues, stress over presentations I was giving (I'm not typically comfortable in front of people), and general life stuff. So I hit the road with a week's worth of clothing, a pile of books, and my laptop all bungeed and velcroed to my sunset Buddy.
A mile down the road, I was forced to admit that I had balance issues. I stopped, redistributed the weight, and then tried to take it off the center stand. The scooter refused to budge. My full weight on the stand did nothing. I repositioned to give it a few better leveraged yanks in frustration (and embarrassment). As it rolled forward, I realized, too late of course, that the ground was also sloping towards the curb. We toppled. I had to laugh as I lay sprawled across my Buddy and the pile of dislodged gear I had just so painstakingly arranged and balanced.
Of course, I couldn't pick it back up with the weight of all that gear. So I unloaded, sat her back up, and repacked (with the Buddy on its side stand this time). There were all sorts of doubts in my mind and my stress had doubled, but I'm a girl who loves a challenge. I sat out again, only to wind up smack dab in the middle of rush hour on a road I couldn't reasonably avoid. "I must be insane," I thought.
When I reached the ferry, however, it was all worth while. There's just something liberating about riding a two-wheeled vehicle onto a ferry. (I made sure to be careful on the metal ramps.)
The sun sparkled on water so lackadaisical it looked as though it weren't moving at all. Off the side of the boat, you could see nothing man made, just the river and the trees. Two blue herons that first appeared in the distanced approached in regal rhythmic flaps until they flew right over us.
I had my new talking GPS plugged in, and the friendly computer lady guided me from the ferry into the farms and hills of Maryland. The ride unfolded into sun-drenched cornfields, car-less tree-lined roads, and perfect blue skies. As the the ride continued, the hillsides entered the gloaming, that (my favorite) time of day just before the sun goes down, when the clouds and the world turn slightly rosy, golden, and purple with the promise of the sunset to come.
Every ounce of stress vanished. How can you help but be at peace in such a beautiful world? How can you help but love a vehicle that let's you get so close to that beauty, that gives you a reason to take the long, less-traveled road.
I had been so stressed out, due to relationship issues, stress over presentations I was giving (I'm not typically comfortable in front of people), and general life stuff. So I hit the road with a week's worth of clothing, a pile of books, and my laptop all bungeed and velcroed to my sunset Buddy.
A mile down the road, I was forced to admit that I had balance issues. I stopped, redistributed the weight, and then tried to take it off the center stand. The scooter refused to budge. My full weight on the stand did nothing. I repositioned to give it a few better leveraged yanks in frustration (and embarrassment). As it rolled forward, I realized, too late of course, that the ground was also sloping towards the curb. We toppled. I had to laugh as I lay sprawled across my Buddy and the pile of dislodged gear I had just so painstakingly arranged and balanced.
Of course, I couldn't pick it back up with the weight of all that gear. So I unloaded, sat her back up, and repacked (with the Buddy on its side stand this time). There were all sorts of doubts in my mind and my stress had doubled, but I'm a girl who loves a challenge. I sat out again, only to wind up smack dab in the middle of rush hour on a road I couldn't reasonably avoid. "I must be insane," I thought.
When I reached the ferry, however, it was all worth while. There's just something liberating about riding a two-wheeled vehicle onto a ferry. (I made sure to be careful on the metal ramps.)
The sun sparkled on water so lackadaisical it looked as though it weren't moving at all. Off the side of the boat, you could see nothing man made, just the river and the trees. Two blue herons that first appeared in the distanced approached in regal rhythmic flaps until they flew right over us.
I had my new talking GPS plugged in, and the friendly computer lady guided me from the ferry into the farms and hills of Maryland. The ride unfolded into sun-drenched cornfields, car-less tree-lined roads, and perfect blue skies. As the the ride continued, the hillsides entered the gloaming, that (my favorite) time of day just before the sun goes down, when the clouds and the world turn slightly rosy, golden, and purple with the promise of the sunset to come.
Every ounce of stress vanished. How can you help but be at peace in such a beautiful world? How can you help but love a vehicle that let's you get so close to that beauty, that gives you a reason to take the long, less-traveled road.
I find that, if your rack/grabrail is properly positioned, a small sports back bungeed to the pillion seat helps with weight distribution. Not to mention acting as a backrest!