Breakfast Run Old Boy Style.

Life, there to enjoy.

Sunday mornings possess a quietness and peacefulness that make them irresistible to walking addicts like me. A delight to welcome the day and Sundays are perfect to walk along roads as these are devoid of traffic. Add summer into the mix and the sound of beetles buzzing, buck braying and sounds of hunters give more depth to the day.

I was atop the Eisenberg motoring along while looking at the various Kellerstöckls and mentally picturing the life that was and is lived within them when a buzzing of a different sort tore me away from my contemplation. A buzz almost like a motorbike but more high pitched. Yes, an old Vespa in its distinct pale greenish yellow was cresting the hill and aiming full throttle toward me. Well, not toward me but toward my direction. The rider had hunkered down to minimize wind resistance which eh, shouldn't have been too great on a Vespa.

Before I could process the rider, a second one buzzed up behind him on an old moped. At least from the fifties. When they drove past me I noticed that the mopeds were manned by two old boys. I purposefully say old boys because despite being older, their facial expression was sheer joy and it wasn't hard to imagine their excursions when the mopeds were new. A time of dove tails, white bobby socks, strange hair locks and cigarette dangling from the mouth.

Bob doesn't know it yet but I can predict that he and I will be careering through the vineyards in or on ancient Nike's in a few years time...obviously I wouldn't say no to swapping Nike's for a Vespa.

Biggi