Recently, my headlight went "kablooey!" stopping me from commuting home after dark.

I don't live in a city, where commute's pass through lit streets and intersections.
My commute carries me through genuine backass country, the darkest part of South Carolina farmland. There are no lights along my way, except that which I have with me. The dark becomes palpable and looming beyond the glow of my LEDs.
Things are hidden that can harm, other things are heard - but not seen.

SO for good reason, I am waiting on the parts needed to get my light back into operation.

But, on the drive home tonight, I had a peculiar feeling come over me that I was cheating. Here I was in my truck, zipping along at 55, when I should be riding. I missed the calm of the ride. The more I thought about it, I came to realize that I missed the thrill of riding in the quiet, looming dark.
At one point along the way, I got off the road, shutdown my vehicle and got out.

I stood there listening to the cool night, smelling the air and enjoying the light breeze. I longed for the ride.
It was surreal - I had never experienced it this way.

I think I've passed a milestone.