Let's consider the evidence for a man (let's call him Brian, for lack of a less realistic name) being addicted to riding his oh-so-beloved Suzuki Burgman scooter.
It's December 5 in western Oregon. The temperature is forty degrees, and falling. He's sitting in a south Salem coffee house, enjoying a nonfat vanilla latte after riding eight rather frigid miles so he can use the French Press wi fi to blog about scootering in forty degree weather.
Makes perfect sense to me. (Of course, I'm he.)
I can't think of a better way to spend a sunny afternoon than riding my scooter. Cold, I'm learning, isn't much of a concern on a Burgman -- at least not compared to most motorized two-wheel transportation.
My extra large Clearview shield, a replacement for the unduly puny windscreen that came with my scooter, does a great job of keeping wind off of me. When I wear the liner that came with my terrific Olympia Motosports jacket, I'm perfectly comfortable at forty degrees and below.
OK, with one exception: my hands. They're most exposed to the wind chill. I've got winter gloves, and added a thin underglove recently. That helps, but I'm not going to be riding for hours in cold weather unless I went to heated gloves.
Riding twenty minutes to a nice warm coffee house, though -- that's definitely on my winter agenda.
Some motorcycle and scooter riders store their bikes during the cold months. I briefly considered that. Just as drug addicts or alcoholics briefly consider giving up their own addiction.
I'm hooked. It's just too damn much fun to get on my scooter and feel the freedom of motoring down the road, any road, without being in the cage of a car.
If you're a rider, you know what I mean. If you aren't, you probably won't. Addictions are like that. Until you've tasted the high, imbibing won't make sense to the unaddicted.