One of my quirks, of which there are several, is that I go downtown, a trip of about 15 miles, every 4 weeks, to get my hair cut.
I imagine there are a couple hundred places in a 15 mile radius that could cut my hair, and maybe 2 or 3 would do an adequate job.
But my place has the guy, THE guy who can cut my hair without making me look like a dork. A bigger dork. Not a small feat. Many have tried. All but one have failed.
So, it's worth the trip.
And today, I rode the Ducati to work. And to the hair place. And I don't ride the bike on the interstates, so I took the scenic route. And it was pretty cool. I was on roads I hadn't been on in years. And there were trees, and shade from trees.
I took a different route home... up College. Midway I realized I was hungry. And what was just a few blocks up the road? YATS!
YATS is a local cajun/creole restaurant in Broadripple. The food is insanely good, and the place has that unmistakable and impossible to fake feel of a neighborhood joint.
Every time I eat here, or hear of someone's own visit, I torture myself for having not gone more often.
If I'd taken the car, I wouldn't have been quite as sweaty. But I also would have taken the anonymous interstate home. There's nothing stopping me from taking the same route home in my car, I just don't. I takes longer, has more lights. And being in a car is usually something I'm not looking to draw out.
Motorcycles are a local form of travel. Like running, they can connect you to neighborhoods, if you let them. And they're easy to park.
Numbers: 1.4 difficult miles