Riding my scooter on the freeway south down the coast of Monterey, CA, with my wife riding another motorcycle alongside. We pass the skinniest Costco I’ve ever seen, with a parking lot running adjacent to the roadside. Just after passing it, I notice my backpack has fallen off. This has been a fear for awhile. I can see where it is and, seeing no better option, I begin driving backwards along the shoulder. Some cars let me pass on the left, some on the right. I make it there and I’m relieved to see it’s held together, although it’s obviously been flattened and run over a few times. I don’t remember everything I had in there, but I know there’s a few things that probably survived, definitely not my croissants though.