I bought a motor scooter. My midlife crisis says that high gas prices were the reason, but it lies.
I also own a pickup truck. It has a huge engine and power everything, taking me anywhere I want in speed, style and comfort. Yet for me, la dolce vita is doing 30 in a 35, crowded to the shoulder as trucks like mine pass impatiently. Less speed, more cold. The little scooter that could works its way slowly up the hills.
When I ride, the wind blows the cobwebs off my thinking. I have time to re-examine my expectations.