There's something highly meditative about riding a scooter, or any motorized vehicle that allows you to really smell the smells of your city, and feel the wind on your face. It's difficult to get too lost in your thoughts, because you're constantly evaluating traffic, experiencing everything. It's wonderful and exhilarating. Everything feels so much more ... alive.
And then on some occasions, things get a little weird.
This week, I decided to commute to work, which is a 36-mile round trip, every day of the week. (Only $6 for gas! Jealous?) On one of Denver's more colorful streets, South Broadway, I found myself sort of caught in the middle of some crazy man in a pick-up truck to the left of me screaming out his window, insulting a homeless dude on the other side of the road begging for money -- well, more specifically a beer -- calling him all sorts of lovely, colorful names. I wanted to suggest an anger management workshop for my new friend, but instead decided it was best to prepare to duck and run.
Yeah. So, the lesson is: not only does scooting = meditative, but scooting also = possible exciting near death experiences. How can you go wrong with this?
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