Many mornings of late start with just wandering through the countryside near home. More to help brain and body greet the day than any sort of riding adventure. There’s a slow, reflective state that I can enter as the scooter quietly rolls along, and I just soak in the view.Continue Reading
The past few weeks have been a collection of exquisite riding weathers — fog, warm days, cool mornings. For many riders it would open the door to long rides and adventure. I wish I could say that’s what I’ve been doing. But I’ve been doing some aimless wandering, on foot and on the Vespa scooter, but it’s not so much about the physical act as it is about engaging the senses. Relishing the perceptions of being out in the world.
I stood for a long time at this railroad crossing gazing at the edge where what’s visible disappeared into the fog. I wasn’t looking for anything; just feeling life flow around and through me.
That’s often the case when I’m riding the scooter.Continue Reading
Lately, I’ve been engaged in days of aimless wandering. Some on the Vespa through fog shrouded forests. Others on foot during daylight and night. No destination in mind, just allowing myself to drift through the landscape, admiring the world, and wondering what it all means.
Aimless wandering requires a measure of letting go, at least a little, of goals and expectations.
At home, I’ve been tinkering with this website, attending to performance issues and shortcomings that I’ve largely ignored. Examining page speed on the GTmetrix site I was shocked to find how poorly the site was performing. After a few days of intense education I managed to cut the response time in half and achieve passing grades on the test. Continue Reading
Are your weekends on your scooter or motorcycle a riding kaleidoscope?
Some days, I swear I see better than others. Objects seem to leap out toward my eyes and landscapes become small cinematic experiences. It’s like a riding kaleidoscope where there’s a constant change of pattern, texture and form.
Or maybe it’s just my imagination.
Out early on Saturday morning in hopes of beating the heat seemed like a good plan but by 9am the temperature was already above eighty-degrees — hell for someone like me who thrives in the fifty to sixty-degree range.
Some riders would feel a thrill at the sight of a sign warning of winding roads ahead with the attendant leans and lines as they hurtle along. My Vespa and I are lollygaggers with little interest is speed. I just thought the sign looked neat. And to offer some hope to those in the midwest who live in grids.
The rain and sunshine have created a lush landscape of plants. The fragrance of flowers fill the air and the heat has driven me to my vented summer riding jacket. You can often tell from the photos when I stop to smell the roses — the helmet comes off meaning I want to look around.
The scenery changes mile by mile, around every bend almost. What a fine day to ride the scooter.
When I left home I didn’t have a destination. Wasn’t really sure if I wanted to ride or stay home and work in the garden or visit my granddaughter who I see far too infrequently. I find it a bit unsettling riding when I don’t know where I’m going, especially at intersections where I make a choice of left or right based on a feeling without a focus.
Where am I going?
What’s nice about riding the Vespa, or pretty much any two-wheeled machine, is the relative ease in making changes in course and direction. At this intersection I eventually turned around and decided to go the other way.
There was a time when I would take my boots off and wade in the water. Now I just look, maybe make a photograph, and keep my distance from anything so juvenile as getting my feet wet. Still, it’s a lovely pastime to wander along a stream with a camera.
Wished I had seen a muskrat. Or an otter. What a wonderful view in my riding kaleidoscope.
The quiet loneliness of a rural road transited on a Vespa scooter rises to the level of near perfection for me. Ride at my own pace, stop when I want, go when I want, go where I want. These empty places are the stuff of dreams and memory that I’ll one day be replaying.
I do love these rural roads.
Pausing for a few bites of a sandwich and to rehydrate before moving on to a discovered destination just outside of Bellefonte, Pennsylvania — Nature’s Cover where I would order two truckloads of stone for our garden.
I’ve become adept at sitting and emptying my mind of thoughts (without falling asleep) and just absorbing the worlf around me. I scribbled no notes. Just stared off in the distance until a conversation behind me broke the spell.
Three mallard ducks began to talk to me, no doubt interested in an arrangement which would include me sharing part of my lunch with them. Don’t feed the ducks. I learned that a long time ago.
A no nothing ride. Nothing special or unique. But an eclectic riding kaleidoscope of scenes that are now firmly stored in my gourd.
Ah, the Vespa…
With the arrival of warm weather comes more competitors for the three motorcycle spaces outside my office. There are alternatives but it’s nice to be fifty steps from the door. The scooter and Moto Guzzi are strangers to me. Being this close it’s easy to jump on the Vespa for a quick errand or midday wander.
At lunch time I hauled a banana and water bottle and rode off for some quiet time on the road, food, and an energy charge before tackling an afternoon of work.
I have absolutely no expectations during a midday wander other than getting back to the office to work on a presentation. The rest is an exercise in consumption of blue skies and warm air — a testament to just one aspect of riding a scooter.
I wonder how many riders take off at lunchtime for a a little ride?Out
The scooter is actually parked on the road. Careful placement of the camera makes it seem like the Vespa is outstanding in the field — unique and alone — which is true. There are scooters. And there is a Vespa.
By the time I parked the scooter again and got to my desk I had a fresh perspective on life and the presentation. Nothing like a midday wander to reset the creative engine.