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The road ahaid
the unknown.
What you've already seen is behind you
Left and right passing by and might turn up ahaid later on.
The wind blowing past your ears
The only notable sound is the howling wind and the rumbling of the engine
Almost sealed from your environment,
but also connected.
The resistance of the road,
the vibrations that hit the driver
There is a connection
Every bump in the road goes notified
It is no luxury, but hard work
The feeling of the engine breathing life only after the third yank on the kickstart driven motor.
It is like a machine coming to life.
One rough tap at the gear shift lever, falling right into the next gear
Everything comes together
And then accelerating in the second gear.
The freedom
As if you are floating
The environment passing by
Those are all little moments that cannot be described in words.
They have to be experienced to be understood
The experience of driving an old mopet is so much more than just getting from A to B.
It is an experience.
For its owner it is not a simple rusty mean of transportation,
but a valuable possession.
Why a 35 year old mopet?
For its virtue?
I think so, yes. Its virtue
And for a lot of people the longing to the good old days.
The longing for real instead of fake.
Steel instead of plastic.
Petrol instead of electricity.
People might think I dream too much
Maybe I have ideals that I cannot reach Maybe I live in the past.
But I guess I don't really care.
Let them think, what they want to think.
As long as I am able to have my little moment, my experience.
And that is only possible in one place.
On the back of my old Zündapp.