I wrote this upon arrival at Barnes and Noble.
An uneventful short ride brought me to Barnes and Noble. No excitement or interest as I told myself I have prowled these roads before. I’ve convinced myself they are empty and dead. Nothing left to see.
Sitting in the café I think of a blog post title: The Empty Road. It’s misleading. Conjures thoughts of open highways with nameless destinations. The cliché freedom of the road. Someday I hope to sample that place.
The empty road I’m thinking about is in my head. A road without interest or attraction that goes nowhere. Thrill and satisfaction drained away leaving behind a barely animated body on the seat of the Vespa. Other than that it’s a great ride.
I’ve thought a lot about riding risk related to physical conditions. Perhaps a few words about mental risk are in order. I’m pretty sure I pass drivers (and riders) who are preoccupied with something – work, money problems, problems at home, something. Or maybe they’re just tired, angry, or bored. Whatever the problem its hard to be focused on the road. And absolutely nothing has to be wrong to still be disconnected from the ride. It just happens.
Like now. I’d like to be home lying on the couch with Kim. Relaxing. Not doing a damn thing. Maybe I shouldn’t ride today. Just go home.
The Vespa is a reliable developer of enthusiasm. I wandered through town and country to arrive here and could feel the pulse of energy flash on and off. It never ignited the steady burn of intense reward. Maybe it’s the blustery 30° F temperature bothering me after 75° just a few days ago. Or the mental dismissal of familiar roads. Or maybe I just need to recognize it was a busy week and I just don’t want to do anything.
A cup of tea and a cookie hasn’t fixed me. An asiago cheese pretzel follows and the sun comes out. I see it shining on the Vespa in the parking lot. Snow is flying farther down the valley. I can feel the engine trying to turn over in my head. The tea has assumed room temperature and a flicker of desire is winning out over the desire to finish the pretzel. It’s time to go, just don’t know where.
End of notebook entry.
That’s where my head was when I closed the notebook at Barnes and Noble. I wasn’t sure where to go and sat for a while until I decided to ride home though not by a direct route. Past Rockview State Penitentiary and up Centre Hall Mountain. Stopped on the way up to look around in the woods.
At the top of the mountain I stopped to admire the view from where the Mount Nittany Inn used to sit. A fine restaurant that had the misfortune of burning down twice. It has sat like it is for several years now.
At the bottom of the mountain is George’s Frosty Cup – a local soft ice cream joint where I figured I could have one more snack before going home. The wind was blowing hard and jostling the scooter around until I entered town and the relative protection of the houses along the street. I hadn’t been this way since last summer and was surprised to see George’s transformed in Doans Bones Barbeque.
This required investigation and a sampling of their pulled pork sandwich server with homemade potato chips. I’ll be back again.
An interesting aside. A picture of this place appeared in the New York Times a few weeks ago as part of an article on photographer Henry Wessel. Mr. Wessel made his picture in the late 1960’s when the place was called Fye’s.
Rather than ride directly home I plotted another circuitous route home through some rural roads I had forgotten about. Dark clouds and flying snow had me choose a straight line home before I found myself riding with snow on the road or my hands numb enough to have to stop. One last picture of the landscape and then onto the main highway for a 60 MPH run home in a nice crosswind.
Kim was on the phone when I came in and I heard her tell whomever she was talking to that I had a big smile on my face. I guess the Vespa still works.
A thought-provoking topic to this post, Steve. As always, I enjoy your writing as much as your fine photos.
I know that, for me, going on my Vespa gives me a huge lift and I come home feeling on top of the world. I also find that it’s the only vehicle that I will just go for a ride on – with no real plan of where to go. That feeling has not diminished at all in the time I have owned my Vespa, even the times when I rode in the driving rain with my teeth chattering!
Steve,
This was a great post. I find it interesting that although you focussed a lot on the idea of directionlessness at the start, the process of coming home seemed to reconcile the decision to ride out with no purpose and still come home with a sense of achievement.
Michael
I’ve felt a lot like this lately, and like to think that my soul has some kind of connection with my scooter. When looking for that little boost to get me back on track, my scooter was a nice cure.
Have fun,
Bill
I second Dave’s emotion, thinking back to the Vespa ET brochure I picked up almost four years ago that said, “every trip is an adventure.” How very true. I can’t think of a ride I’ve taken on the ET or the PX where I didn’t discover something new… a place, a feeling, a taste (food and/or drink is often a component of a ride). I spar regularly with a blogger for the Seattle Post-Intelligencer who hates the idea of personal vehicles and thinks everybody should ride the bus. She’s far too closeed-minded to appreciate what you wrote about…
dave: It still amazes me how much pure fun I derive from riding. And like you it doesn’t seem to matter if my teeth are chattering or not!
michael: Maybe no direction is a direction after all. I have yet to return home regretting the decision to ride…
bill: The scooter cure. Even factoring in risk it has to be better than the Jack Daniels cure. More people need to ride. It would improve a lot of things.
orin: I enjoy riding buses but they aren’t the only way to travel. You need to get that blogger onto a nice modern scooter for an afternoon.
Maybe, just maybe that big smile you had on your face upon arrival at home had something to do with a cup of tea, a cookie, an asiago cheese pretzel, and a long bun stuff with pulled pork (not forgetting the home-made potato chips)…….IOW’s a full tummy. Again, MAYBE the joy of the open road on a Vespa has met its match. I can’t imagine the soaring euphoria scootin’ along on Vespa and full stomach. WOW!
Pitchertaker
With the amount of riding I do just for commuting, and lack of funds for pleasure riding, sometimes it can be hard to inspire myself to ride, but once I do, I feel better.
John
I can’t pronounce the name of the cookie you ate but I can relate to this post without any trouble.
Roadbum
Ok, it was a pretzel and not a cookie. You could have told me the pretzel name was one of the Galapagos islands and I would have believed you 8)
Rb
I think you touched on the real issue here when you mentioned preoccupied drivers. Then you made mention of your own mind being emptied. I mean that in a nice way! A rider needs to keep their minds open.
Firstly, only by being open to them can new and wonderful experiences happen. Preoccupation is the enemy of adventure.
Secondly, it’s critical for survival. Much of what we see is filtered by our own preconceived prejudices. It can block us from seeing what’s really happening. Riders need accurate truth, not our mind’s own propaganda. We also need to be open to realizing that weird stuff happens. As in, “A cager really wouldn’t do that would they?” Managing risk means thinking outside our self-imposed mental boundaries.
Man, this could be a post all by itself! I know I’m not entirely getting across my point but I don’t want to take over your blog!
Nice post!
Dan
P.S. That Asiago is good. Had it on a bagel the other day.
Excellent writing and self awareness. Gives me more ideas for the piece I plan to finish someday, “WHY RIDE.” It’s so nice to read about familiar roads & places. I’ll soon be moving from DC, back up to your area, my home of 40 years ago. I ride all year round, so maybe our paths will cross. Robert
Steve,
Are any of the duldrums related to the familiarity with the new GTS?
Is it that intuitive and easy to transition from the LX already?
irondad: Don’t worry about taking over my blog with long posts. I and over readers value your thoughts and insights.
I like your idea of needing to think outside our mental boundaries. That’s where I find the truth about my own skill and limits.
Robert: Good luck on the move back this way. Perhaps we will cross paths on the road.
alnvima: The transition for LX150 to GTS was easy. I was worried about the added weight and power and was careful my skills slowly. I have a thousand miles under my belt now and find it as comfortable to ride and handle as the smaller scooter—only faster and more powerful on the hills.
It is a great machine.