Have you ever stood along the road and wondered where you were going? Or worse, why you even got on the scooter or motorcycle instead of staying at home. It’s a rare but unsettling mental space to dwell. A form of riding anxiety.
Not the sort related to thoughts on the inevitability of a crash or the fear that every car is about to make a left turn in front of you, but rather an intuitive anxiety that something’s not right.
A situation that’s best met head on by riding.
Cool air and an ominous sky sparked my fight or flight mechanism this morning as I rode toward the Allegheny plateau.
An uneasy feeling swelled in my gut this morning as I pushed the Vespa out of the garage. The kind I would get at the dentist just before a syringe of Novocaine was pushed into a nerve cluster, or the sinking sense of doom in a dream where I suddenly realize I forgot to ever go to my college chemistry class.
It’s not a good way to begin a ride.
I had no destination in mind and wondered why I was standing in the driveway.
The road is dangerous.
Every good rider knows this and takes actions to mitigate the risks — other vehicles, road surface irregularities, small and large mammals, physical detritus from careless drivers, weather and personal failures of judgment and technique.
Intelligent management can be applied, to some degree, to each of these potential problems. But sometimes, for me at least, another kind of risk appears that I can only label as something between heightened intuition and irrational paranoia. It’s between my ears and I can stop it from talking.
At the heart of riding anxiety are questions. About me, about what I believe to be true, about what I fear. It doesn’t happen often — perhaps three times in ten years — and each time a change in how I see the world. A quickened acceptance of the world of the road — the risk and danger along with the joy and bliss.
Miles of gravel and rock. Not the Vespa’s strong suit. A last minute decision brought me to this place. The last time I came through was twenty years ago. It was wild then and remains so today.
All morning intuition whispered something wasn’t right and grew with each passing mile. Two vehicles passed me in this empty place and both times I wondered if the drivers weren’t serial killers or worse. My eyes kept scanning the mirrors for their return while I made mental notes on off-road evasion techniques.
The trees and plants were burnt, spindly and drained. I was reminded of an area farther north ravaged by a tornado.
I was awake and aware.
Much of the area I rode through was laid waste by prescribed burns — efforts by the Pennsylvania Game Commission to enhance wildlife habitat and reduce risk of wildfires. The place looked desolate as if something bad happened here. My thoughts would provide fodder for horror novels if I were so inclined.
I rode on.
With the Vespa’s small wheels and limited suspension travel speeds are limited and even moderate speeds grow problematic with the sudden appearance of rocky stretches of roadbed. Riding in rough conditions on a Vespa requires a little extra physical work, careful attention to the brakes and a thoughtful approach to balance and handling.
If you want to stay upright.
Much of the ride was gloomy with the light levels low and the breeze creating odd sounds in the forest. I couldn’t help but think of the way the Blair Witch Project touched some frightened place in so many people where a rustle of leaves could trigger a pounding heart or ears would hear a faint moan in the woods.
I stopped, parked the scooter, removed my ear plugs and listened for ghosts.
Working with the camera on a tripod and fiddling with the radio controlled shutter trigger worked its magic over my imagination much in the same way it does with my fear of heights — put the camera in front of me and all fear vanishes. It’s what has allowed me to climb smokestacks and walk out along crane booms to make pictures — situations that would not be possible without the camera leading the way.
So a few pictures, a banana, and a drink of water, it dissolved the riding anxiety.
It’s been awhile (I think) since I’ve done much riding on gravel roads, particularly rough roads. A few times I wished for the winter or knobby tires. Or a dirt bike. The Vespa can manage the gravel but it’s a slow slog.
For me at least.
Every ride is different. It’s part of what brings me back to the road over and over again. And at some level I’m a different man each time. Or so I like to believe. On this ride I stepped into the gloom and let it wash over the scooter and I to see where it led. I didn’t know where I was going when I left but a journey unfolded as the miles moved by.
Riding down off the Allegheny Front I reached a paved road and headed north toward home and a stop at the Pump State Cafe to make a few notes and wonder about the morning.
The anxiety — maybe it was the approaching supermoon or the lunar eclipse. Perhaps the earth passed through an energy field that affected only myself and other sensitive people. Or maybe it was nothing more than what Ebenezer Scrooge suggested, “You may be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of underdone potato. There’s more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are!”
Riding anxiety? Bah, Humbug!
I like a good horror story, and you have just managed giving me the creeps with your eerie narration and the somber photography going with it.
Well, while I didn’t intend to share a horror story, it sort of felt like one for awhile. I must be getting old…
Back in my youth it was nothing to hop on the bike, just for the heck of it. Rides culminating in ice cream, burgers or Souvlaki were normal. As I got older my motivations changed. Adult concerns for time, money and maintenance took over. I really switched to a scooter because I only had a short commute to work. I sold the Kawasaki because it was too much machine for so little a trip that a 250cc scooter could do much more cheaply. That might all change now that my wife is gone. I’ll need the drugs that only a big bike can supply and running away from home for several hours looks pretty good right now. I don’t know if I’ll stop to take pictures though. Running from demons means you keep moving.
You’re in uncharted territory now. Keep your wits about you and keep moving as you said. Maybe it’s good to keep ahead of what’s gaining on you…
Best wishes to you.
Great post Steve. I really like your thought process and writing ability. Some days I don’t feel all there and those days I don’t ride. I always remember my riding lessons teaching me that it takes a lot to ride well…if you done feel right don’t do it.
My Yamaha 50 cc BWS has great little tires for the gravel and off road….have you ever tried one?
Brent
Thanks for the kind words Brent. The more I think about the ride I have to agree that I probably should have turned around and went home. It does take some focus away when you’re feeling off.
No BWS scooters in the US. We have the Yamaha 50cc Zuma. The only 50cc scooter I’ve been on is the Honda Ruckus. I love those things.
Pulling my blanket a little tighter around me after reading this…
Maybe around Halloween I’ll write something that starts, “It was a dark and dreary night, and I was on the empty road on my Vespa…”
Excellent post, Steve. I can relate to everything you mentioned. It is good to know that others ponder these things as well.
Absolutely good to know that a person isn’t alone with uneasy thoughts. Thanks for sharing.
I was just getting anxious reading your post! I’ve had a few rides where I’ve thought “Nope not riding today” then decided to head back to the moto lair & park the beast. A few times i’ve ignored this and I didnt enjoy the ride at all. I listen to those anxious feelings.
I need to listen to myself more. I have a great capacity to dismiss things like that. Sorry for making you anxious!
One day I am going to ride through the woods with you and it will be laughter all the way. And some effing and blinding. And salt and vinegar chips. No ghosts. No bananas. No finking to your cardiologist.
It’s a deal. Even my dog agrees. She ate my banana the last two days. She’s part chimp I think.
Ah yes, the little voice that pops up when you’re in the middle of nowhere that says: “what the heck were you thinking?” “What happens if you break down now?” Panic!!!
The rituals of photography serve to steady one’s nerves with known and familiar actions…..kudos.
The little voice is a pain sometimes. It’s never entertaining. The camera is a great distraction. Or maybe more of a magnifying glass focusing attention until its red hot…
Every once in a while Steve you drop a ringer.
Medical traumma we’ve both experienced, and said trauma returns at the most inopportune times to haunt us once again. Methinks we see one side of Steve on the blog, and a similar but not the same side in his photography. What about the side of Steve Williams we don’t experience? The side at your employment or at home, alone or with Kim. methinks too Kim also has her own life, you two do things apart, as it is with many marriages
(and it doesn’t have to be mf, it could be m/m or f/f relationship as well).
That is one reason you have Junior!
Steve needs some hugs from afar,
to let others reassure him he is going to be just fine.
(S), (S), (S), (S); there’s four from me.
We all require a balancing act ofsome sort throughout our existence this time round.
Some of us need only one, some require more than one.
Oh, as to Junior eating the banana; he knew his potassium level was low and he knew the banana would have a different taste. Not to worry, did you get to eat a portion of the banana?
You’re right about not all of me being visible on the blog. I mostly keep work out of the picture — in part because a lot of what I’m doing isn’t relevant or appropriate here, and also because the writing and photography here is an escape from the professional world. But some leaks through.
Kim and the dogs are right here as I write. Junior groaning as he stretches for one last time before bed. Lily already passed out. And Kim six feet away reading a book. We’re together yet each doing their own thing.
I’ve never sure if I’m looking for balance or for abandonment of lots of things that aren’t necessary. Both maybe.
Lily is the banana eater — she seeks them out. Junior wouldn’t touch a banana unless ice cream was involved. He’s more a green bean man.
Thanks for your comments — always appreciate your perspective.
A Hitchcock situation to be sure.
During my flying days on the rare occasion I felt even slightly “off” I knew the consequences could be catastrophic and refrained.
Two wheels can be unforgiving.
I’ll have to think about whether I was distracted enough that it was a danger. I don’t think so but it’s worth thinking about. I don’t want to get into any situation that requires forgiveness….
Well said, I can concur with that.