On the way to work a few mornings ago. I find my adventure in small doses. As much imagined as real. A turn off the pavement to enjoy a mile of gravel, a view, the fragrance of honeysuckle floating on a moist morning fog. The Vespa is my license for (non) epic journeys.
Twilight has been calling strongly to the rider. There is so much to see. Everything is different. On a ride to pick up takeout food from Kelly’s Steak and Seafood I stopped to admire the changing light on this small white building. I have a collection of photographs of this structure but still I have not seen all its faces. Riding, the camera, and my Moleskine journal continue to work their magic on my brain.
It’s essential magic.
Out near midnight doing nothing in particular I stop to admire the moonlight paint the trees along the highway. The magic comes when I am processing the image and see rust behind the front wheel. I’ve observed many riders fastidiously (obsessively) cleaning and polishing their machines. I don’t remember washing any salt away this past year. My Google Tasks now includes some remedial and cosmetic service, hopefully in time before the International Association of Sparkling Chrome, Paint and Detailing Science arrives to revoke my Vespa ownership.
I recognize the heightened risk of riding at night. Common sense, extensive adjustments to managing the machine and the road, and a nod to the riding fairies are all part of the ritual. Thoughts of Bambi, the drunk, and the stray cinder block on the road sharpen attention to detail.
Solitude is rarefied at night. Even the most hectic places succumb to a sleepy state of quiet. Scrambling up the side of the hill to make the picture, looking out over the Vespa and the night sky, I could hear the Eagle’s Peaceful Easy Feeling play in my head.
Not too bad for a few (non) epic journeys.
Wow Steve! This is one of your best in my humble opinion. It may not be the distance but how much we appreciate the time we recieve.
I loved this one. And your last picture already sticks in my mind.
Thank you.
Harv
Dear Mr. Williams:
An epic ride may only be a few miles, depending upon where it leads one’s thoughts. About 18 months ago, I read a blog called, “Scooter In The Sticks,” and I thought, “that guy gets it.” I try to model my rides after yours.
Now that’s a frightening thought for you, huh?
Fondest regards,
Jack • reep • Toad
That last picture is definitely class.
Wish I could snap pictures like that.
Now that the weather’s improved, I might take up midnight riding myself.
Nice to see you still have the heart of a poet. Guys like me need these reminders to slow down and find the magic around us.
Although I have to say I’m getting a bit worried about you. Aren’t old guys like us supposed to be in bed early and not roaming around at midnight like teenagers?
Very nice prose and pics. I couldn’t agree with you more about finding “adventure” with every ride. I feel fortunate t have a job where I get to ride home at midnight. The world is so different.
Harv: Thank you for your kind words. Sometimes the best words and pictures just float to the surface when things are relaxed.
Like you say, appreciating the time we receive is a powerful thing to do.
Mr. Riepe: Your kind endorsement is kind of frightening. My tendency to dismiss whatever I do makes it hard to hear. But thank you.
Chip: That picture is an example of the gifts that appear if you always have a camera with you. I just happened to notice the opportunity as I rode into the parking lot.
Or maybe it is some night time magic at work on my mind.
irondad: I’m pretty good at staying up late and I used to be pretty good at getting up early. But lately I’ve noticed the two don’t mix as easily as they once did.
There are time though that I wake at 3am and look out the window and see the world illuminated by a full moon and just want to walk right down to the garage and take a ride. Like I am missing something really important in the world.
I was oblivious as a teenager. Youth really is wasted on the young…
Howard: The last time I had a job where quitting time was around midnight (12:30am), was back in 1974 when I was a welder in a shipyard. All I remember was how hungry I was. I missed everything back then.
I checked your blog and you are doing some real epic riding. Congratulations!
I just wanted to say…
Articles like this are why I love your site. You get it, and I like it!
-matthew-
Steve, I think the Appearance Nazis will be placing their jackboot on my throat long before they arrive on your doorstep.
The dent from when the GTS fell over on me is still there, the scratches apparently not deep enough to reach bare metal. There are all kinds of other scrapes and dings, and several plastic parts seem to be held in place by their shape, the fasteners having disappeared. The guy I bought it from mentioned he put it in his truck one time and didn’t tie it down. And he lived near salt water, so pretty much all the chrome is pitted.
And yet it photographs so very well. I still get compliments (from Mr. Riepe in particular), the people saying, your scooter is beautiful!
If only they could see it up close.
I’m reminded of a field trip to one of the Seattle TV stations in junior high school. The set where the nightly newscast took place, while looking all high-tech and zoomy on the air, was made of styrofoam and cheap plywood, painted with latex house paint. “It’s real easy to work with,” the set-builder said, and TV was low-res enough that it didn’t matter.
Still true in the digital age, I guess…
__Orin
Scootin’ Old Skool
“There are time though that I wake at 3am and look out the window and see the world illuminated by a full moon and just want to walk right down to the garage and take a ride. Like I am missing something really important in the world.”
I know that feeling – perfect description of how it feels to be awake at 3 a.m. the feeling of missing what’s going on and wanting to get out there. Great pictures by the way.