I needed a long ride to adjust my poor attitude and outlook on life. Some things were chewing on me all week and I was seeing the glass as half-empty. That probably doesn’t happen to many people. I haven’t wanted to write, photograph, or do a whole lot of anything.
Just a few miles from home I was already bemoaning the quality of light I had to ride in. Clear skies and a morning temperature of 59 F were almost too much to bear. With no fog or interesting light any photography would simply be a futile exercise.
My mental complaining was so loud that I almost missed the Burma Shave signs along the road and then not even wanting to stop. My head was a long list of expectations and requirements necessary for a good ride.
Chiding myself for not getting on the road earlier I almost miss the fact that I have the road and the world almost to myself at 8AM on Saturday morning.
I had decided to ride into the anthracite coal region of Pennsylvania, an area that I have not explored to any great degree. Moving east along State Route 192 towards Lewisburg I started to see other riders – single riders, small groups, Harleys, sportbikes, helmets, no helmets. The whole mix. I’m sort of irate though because a group of Harley riders don’t return my wave. I’m reviewing the rationale to imitate bikers by growing long hair, big beards, and even bigger guts. I’m wrestling with the intelligence of the doo rag and T-shirt as protection. I know they are all laughing at me for the protective gear I’m wearing. So loud this discussion is that I almost miss a group of mules relaxing along the road.
They work on an Amish farm pulling plows, hay rakes, and whatever else the farmer asks of them. As we watch each other I hear the approach of a loud pipes save lives bike. A chopper this time, another selfish, self-centered bastard, no helmet, lots of leather, looking like someone from ZZ Top. As my brain starts turning again his hand reaches out in a big wave in front of an even bigger smile. My frustration fades away. I’m wrong about the Harley riders. Just my own twisted thinking. During the remainder of the day some riders wave and some don’t. Simple as that. The problem is my attitude.
On across the West Branch of the Susquehanna River towards Catawissa where I will turn south into the Anthracite Basin. Along the way I pass and turn around to look at the Sodom School.
What can I say other than I doubt you will find any districts clamoring for this name today.
At Catawissa I cross the main branch of the Susquehanna and follow rambling route 42 through agricultural communities like Queen City and Numidia. Numidia is not much more than a few houses at a crossroads but it does have a drag strip. The road climbs out of the valley and into the Appalachian Mountains. The contrast is startling as almost all evidence of human intervention, save for the road, disappears.
The fragrance of pine and wet forest floors fills the air. I stopped to take a picture as the road prepares to ascend Big Mountain. This experience is only temporary though because soon I will enter the disaster known as Centralia, Pennsylvania.
Centralia is almost a modern day ghost town. Seventy years ago an underground coal seam started to burn and led to the near extinction of the town. Six houses remain a new municipal building, and a cemetery that seems to magically resist the movement of the fire.
Even the highway was abandoned as the fire burned through the pavement. On a sunny day it doesn’t look like much but when it is cold and overcast smoke and steam rises from holes in the earth.
Trees and brush volunteering to grow ignite and burn. The ground is hot in places. If you want to read more about Centralia go HERE.
The temperature had risen into the 80’s and I was ready to head home. There are a variety of routes but I am still telling myself how bad the light is, how pointless photography is. I choose the shortest route, time and distance, two hours and about 90 miles.
New little shopping centers drain the life out of the small towns already struggling from the decline in coal production. People embrace the shiny newness of chain store enterprises that promise no surprises or challenges – just everyday low prices. The Wendy’s and McDonalds forcing the mom and pop diners into oblivion.
I stop at the Coney Island Lunch in Shamokin. This place has been around for decades but judging by the look of the place its days are numbered. Another place all used up and tossed aside in favor of the bright lights of McDonalds. Or not.
The Vespa GTS 250ie has been performing flawlessly since I bought it and this ride is no different. I cruises easily with traffic at 65 MPH when necessary and even handled the uneven pavement resulting from the asphalt removal process that leaves the road surface a wavy mess of deep scars.
I finally put my concern about light aside when I stopped to view the huge cloud formations. You don’t see those in the fog. The glass is half-full and rising. At 145 miles the attitude adjustment is complete.
I’m able to ride in silence the remaining 40 miles home with one short stop to mourn the closing of Stover’s Market in Aaronsburg. This old small town market was sort of the hub of activity in town. It was common to see Amish buggies hitched outside next to the cars and trucks of patrons. Those days are gone now.
I arrived home different than when I left. It’s one of the reasons I ride, this unexpected tendency towards transformation. Not to mention the fun of it all.
Steve, thanks for the post about attitude adjustment. I could use a good ride to adjust a little attitude. But, it’s been in the mid 90s here in Cincinnati. In fact, that may be the reason!Pretty darned hot to ride mid day or afternoon.–DBrent
I don’t know why I need to ride. If I put a fan in my face and read your post I think I’d get the same attitude adjustment as being on the bike!
You still have the heart of the poet and scribe, but I’m seeing you wander onto the Warrior path more often. Looking for adventure, braving the elements, striving for control of your own emotions to better deal with bogies, and then telling the tale over the camp fire.
Maybe I will start calling you Prince Valiant of the Vespa!
Thanks for the post. I needed that, too.
Steve,
Glad to hear that you go into piss poor places also.
Funny how it can be refreshing to talk about it.
Tim
Steve, depression is a REAL thing. It can kill. Take your ‘therapy’ where you can. As for me, I ride for the Zen experience … rolling meditation … hyper alert to all my surroundings, all of which are the same importance. I go from home to No-Particular-Place & back again. Drives my wife crazy.
2nd post. Steve, I’m considering a multi-day trip, along the length of US 322, from its origin in atlantic City, NJ, to terminus at City Hall in Cleveland, OH. I won’t be in a hurry. Got any thoughts on the route.
DBrent: It has been hot here too. Yesterday it was in the mid 90’s. Just a hot breeze while riding. Give me the cold anyday!
irondad: What can I say other than thank you. You have been an source of inspiration and support for a long time.
I had forgotten about Prince Valiant. It used to be a must read comic strip in the Sunday paper as a kid. Tales from the days of King Irondad….
Tim: Yeah, took me a long time to talk about things. Up to that point everything was fine….*grin*
eldercattus: I find rolling meditation as well most of the times I ride. This past one was unusual for me.
As far as riding route 322–it would be a good ride if you don’t mind some congested areas in the southeast or some four-lane highways in the central part of the state. I have driven the entire length in Pennsylvania and it passes through interesting scenic and man-made wonders.
Once 322 leaves Harrisburg it is a beautiful ride along the Juniata River to Lewistown and then over the Seven Mountains into the Nittany Valley. The scenery continues to be nice almost all the way to Jamestown and the crossing into Ohio.
Lots of stuff along the way to look at. How long do you think it would take? The more I think about it the better it sounds!
This sentence just really stuck with me for some reason: “Six houses remain a new municipal building, and a cemetery that seems to magically resist the movement of the fire.” I almost wish I could see a picture of the cemetery.
There always seems to be a pitcher full off sweet scootering to fill an empty glass. Glad to see that you topped off.
Have fun,
Bill
Steve, the ride is an amazing “attitude adjuster” and cam be the great day brightener. For me coming to read your latest entry is my aa and day brightener.
Thanks for your love of the ride and the great photos you submit.
hrw115: It is strange how the cemetary seems to resist the fire. In the link to the Centralia site there are pictures of the place that will give you a better idea of what happened there.
bill: Indeed! The scooter ride has a strong ability to transform the pliable mind.
jack: Thanks for you feedback and kind words. Riding and sharing are strong medicine for me. I am glad you find something in it as well.
I’ve been feeling much the same way of late, Steve. No matter how rich my life is with riding experiences now, depression is still the down-side of my bio-rythms. There are some days when I am just inexplicably down.
I’ve been telling friends that my blog is eating my life, and I took a short break from it last weekend. But I rode my scooter to work today, and I will be posting again tonight.
Glass half-full, glass half-full, glass half-full… not a bad mantra.
Ride well,
=gc=
I got completely caught up in that website dedicated to Centralia. What an interesting story. Definitely a place I would love to visit some day. I think I’m due for a bit of rolling zen myself. Now if only the weather would agree…
I remembered you advice on my trip, ending yesterday, up 322 & back, starting from mid-New Jersey. The hi-speed trek from Harrisburg, against a strong headwind, exhausted me and I bummed out at Milroy. Nice Best Western motel there. On the way back, I got off on the old road (22?), and kept to that as long as possible. About 396 miles in a couple of days, on a Burgman 650. I’d do it again, too!
Hi Steve,
I’m stumbled upon your blog while researching Vespas. I’m thinking about buying an LX150 soon. I couldn’t believe it when I read about your trip to Shamokin! I grew up in Shamokin and still crave “Coney Burgers.” It is an institution that will be there for generations to come. I am familiar with central PA also since graduating from Penn State 10 years ago. I’ve lived in Oregon for the last 9 years and look forward to scooting around the Rogue Valley. Great blog! -thad