I measured my serotonin levels the other day and it turned out that I was a bit on the low side. Then I checked my dopamine count and it was also slightly pallid so I decided to take the ol’ scooter on the highway and hang out slightly to the right of the 140 mark just to make sure my blood is still percolating.
Sometimes when I blur down the left lane I think of the motorcycle riders that like to weave in and out of traffic at high-speeds on their crotchety rocketys and that type of riding gives my kind of riding a very bad name. I like to go fast. I like to go slow. I like to go so fast that the fear and loneliness that lies in the universe is left way back over my shoulder but I also need to languish in a ride and soak up the sights, taste the world, smell the air and gaze up into that sky I want so bad to be in.