I admit to driving my scooter like a maniac. Is it risky? Absolutely! But I need some kind of action in my life. I love the corporate life, the tension and stress of working on expensive projects, the delicate wordplay, the lightweight politicking, the quest for the perfect email. I like this life, but I still need some visceral action. I need to speed through the streets, weave in and out of lanes, and floor it at the sight of a yellow light. This is how I handle my stress, how I prepare myself for another day of work, how I wind down after work, and how I "deal with it." I love riding my scooter, and the more I ride it, the safer I feel (when in fact the opposite is true -- after a certain comfort level, safety starts to decrease).

Note that this madness, this scooter-based craziness, takes place at a whopping 40 kph. And I wear a helmet. And I'm usually dressed in business casual while I do it. BUT THAT DOESN'T MATTER! I'm still a rebel, a virtual Hell's Angel, on that scooter.

Obviously in a previous life I'd just drive a car, which is MUCH more dangerous than a scooter. I've generally been a conservative driver most of the time, but occasionally I'd just hit it and want to fly, and down went the gas pedal. I remember one specific occasion when I was driving the IS300 on Garlock Road with Glenn and Christy in the car. Bloc Party's "Positive Tension" was playing, right at that part about 2/3 of the way in when it starts to speed up a bit. I could feel the music coursing through my veins, and I came up over this hill, that last hill on Garlock before it flattens out, and I noticed that I was casually going 100 mph at the crest of the hill. Something triggered in my brain and I knew I could hit it, and the music was moving me, driving me, pushing me. So I pushed the pedal all the way down and got it up to 142 mph before the thought came to me that if I lost control, we'd die. And who wants to be responsible for something like that? Not I! So I eased off the gas and toned it back down to 100 or so (a normal Garlock Road speed, for those not familiar with California desert roads).

One other time I was by myself on the way from Provo to Ridgecrest and I got it up to 145 mph before the same thought came to my head (the "one twitch and you're going to wreck this machine and kill yourself" thought). This was during that phase of my college years when I was tired of taking I-15 to get to my family home in Ridgecrest, so I'd take US Highway 6 from Delta, Utah to Bishop, California, then cut down the east side of the Sierras. Lots of interesting memories on that highway: cutting down through the White Mountains that one time. Getting my plates taken away in Tonopah. Hitting that badger out in the middle of Nevada. Realizing that I was in love really for the first time (after many infatuations and experiences I thought were love, it was the first time I maturely understood what love was -- mind you, I still later immaturely and regrettably threw that love away, but it was on Highway 6 that I first knew what it was like to feel that kind of love), and that one time going 145 mph.

Many good memories, really rich memories, that I wouldn't trade for anything in the world. Just like the memories I'm making now: new sights, new sounds, fear, loneliness, happiness, and the feel of a cool breeze in my face as I ride my Suzuki Let's 50cc scooter carelessly through the streets of Tokyo.