slave drew and I acquired a motor scooter late last summer.
It is, to be clear, a scooter.
It is NOT a motorcycle.
I wouldn’t know the difference because I don’t know a thing about them, but trust me, I might be the only one.
We have put something like 350 miles on the scooter. That might not sound like a lot until you realize that our top speed is something ike 35, meaning that we don’t go on the highway.
We drive around neighborhoods. We go through a lot of alleys because we like seeing into people’s back yards, seeing what their gardens look like.
We drive through the parks. Louisville has a beautiful park system, much of it designed by Frederic Law Olmstead, who designed Central Park in New York City.
One of the things we both like is riding around at night, after the sun has set. It’s cool, and the air is fresh. We notice the fireflies, and the gardens, and the trees, and the houses. We both notice gardens when we’re out and about and go visit them together.
We like being able to see into backyards, too, because the front garden is for show, often, it’s not where you live. You live in the backyard.
Today was warm, not miserable to me, anyway, but it was hotter than it has been, and humid. By tonight, though, it had cooled down considerably. The neighborhoods we drove through were upper-class, very nice houses, big wide streets, and were generally pretty deserted. People were home, but they were inside. It was warm today, recall, and most people wanted to be inside, the air conditioning blasting.
We saw so many houses with great porches, or upstairs balconies, and no one was on them. We kept saying, “We’d live out there in weather like that…”
It was fully dark by the time we got home, street lights on. We drove by a softball game in progress, the dust from the infield visible from a distance. The dog walkers were finishing up, the evening drawing to a close.
To quote Longfellow:
The day is done, and the darkness
Falls from the wings of Night,
As a feather is wafted downward
From an eagle in his flight.