Standing along US 322 in a soft drizzle, admiring the fog drift over Mount Nittany, letting my thoughts flow along without a care in the world when the steady, whining drone of some infernal contraption interrupted the zen moment. Turning my head I caught a glimpse of what had to be a red, BMW K75 with a stocky rider astride the machine. It took me a moment but it occurred to me that it just might be Jack Riepe on some wild, irrational ride in the rain.
In moments I was on the expressway and gaining ground on the BMW just a half mile ahead. The rider exits and sweeps past a green light onto the road into State College that I watch turn red. For a moment I consider running the light as Jessica by the Allman Brothers Band is playing in my head. But I remember I want to take possession of my Honda minivan tonight.
Moving slowly through State College I make a logical search for the man in question and first stop at some of the downtown eateries. Nothing. Mist and smoke.
Not a soul at the local cigar and single malt establishment. Standing in the alley I puzzle my predicament and move to the only other logical place.
After a tour around town and a stop at the only Irish Pub in town I decide I've been seeing ghosts, allowing my mind to play ethereal beings across my visor, riding wraiths and spectral devils on unholy machines.
Another day on a Vespa, riding to work, enjoying the road ahead.
