Exploring life on a Vespa, Royal Enfield Himalayan, Honda Trail 125, and a Kawasaki W650
This tree knows things. Old, withered, but still alive and serving as sentinel across the valley encompassing Farmers Mills, Pennsylvania. The tree whispers of autumn and the winter not far off. Stopping along the road on a ride to breakfast with my friend Paul I’m reminded of the power a landscape can have if I take the time to look, and how my Vespa scooter has supported these discoveries for years now.
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Toward the end of February was the last time I published a video on YouTube. The silence since is a marked departure from the normal three videos created every month. Since then there have been many inquiries asking when I will start posting videos on YouTube again. I don’t want to say never but it does feel that way. I started making videos thinking it might be fun. And I stopped when it wasn’t.
Making videos, even with the simple approach I employed, takes time to create. It meant having an idea of something to say before the ride, a rough plan for the footage needed, some mental practice regarding what I would say while riding, and then editing it into something tolerable to watch.
An unexpected audience built around the videos. Larger than twenty years of publishing blog posts. A friend asked if the audience size mattered, if the monthly check from YouTube mattered, if I was enjoying myself? And the answers were “No.”
I create things for myself. To unravel chaotic thoughts and situations, to explore the questions that rattle in my head. If others find enjoyment or utility in them that’s gravy, but not the goal
So for now I’ve put YouTube on hiatus.
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I don’t have to go far on the bike to feel pretty good. Especially this time of year when the mornings are cool and the light and color is beginning to change. A bowl of Cheerios with blueberries at home was all the fuel I needed to head out and explore some gravel roads in Stone Valley. I only had a couple hours to work with which is plenty to shed whatever burdens might be weighing me down.
The Himalayan has really become a favorite.
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For the past couple months I’ve been physically feeling a little worse than normal. Whatever normal is now as I ride the downward slope towards the boneyard. Psoriatic arthritis visits more frequently with painfully stiff joints and fiery reminders that all is not well in this body. And a request by my rheumatologist to taper the drug used to control things to make sure I’ve not gone into remission and no longer need the cancer med used to suppress my immune system.
I’m not in remission.
And some recent chest pressure and pain has a stress echo test in my immediate future to determine if things have worsened since my heart attack back in 2015. The only evidence that I’m not hurtling toward the boneyard is the miraculous eye surgery that removed my cataracts. It transformed me and my near-sighted existence into a far-sighted man who no longer has to fuss with glasses in the motorcycle helmet. And I have great night vision.
I acknowledge I have an expiration date in a way I didn’t when I was younger. And it has made each day special regardless of whatever joy or crap I face. Riding is an even more exquisite experiences. An unexpected result of hurtling toward the boneyard.
I had two goals when I rolled out on the Kawasaki W650 — explore an area whose roads were unfamiliar, and have breakfast at a cafe I’ve not visited in a few years. Perfect excuses to ride on a crisp morning in autumn.
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The desire to ride is nearly constant. It would descend into obsession if not for age, wisdom, and experience working together to manage neatly into my life. And usually the desire to ride runs far ahead of any plan and while others might spend time watching the news or prowling social media to relax I turn to Google Maps to investigate the world to transform desire into a ride.
That’s how I found myself adding gas to the Himalayan, a man with a plan.
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