Restless on the Road
A ride can begin without goal or expectation — just a twist of the throttle and touch of the bar fueled by desire for movement and motion, a flash of vision as the landscape sweeps by. And before long you’re miles from home.
Sunday morning began in uncertainty for I wasn’t sure if I wanted to ride, walk with my camera or just go to church. There are days when I feel restless yet unfocused, at least regarding a plan of action. At sunrise I was in the garden with the dogs making photographs between requests to heave a tennis ball and recognitions of glowing portions of our naturalized landscape.
Photography is a compulsion, a condition I recognize requires periodic purging lest I become irritated by visual overstimulation. It’s as if my eyes collect more information than my brain can manage and the camera serves as a tool too download and provide space to function. I’ve taken part in group photo sessions where a number of camera wielders in a single location all work to “photograph” the place and later share what they saw. Seeing that work gives you an idea of how differently people see the world.
I suffer by the visual.
The Vespa scooter and I traveled south down the valley toward Spruce Creek along winding roads and farm paths. The combination of light and sky, field and road agitated the eye and led to a growing ride fueled by desire to see and experience nothing in particular, everything in general. What started as no ride at all quickly turned into something I had to force to an end due to time and other commitments.
Deja vu — standing on the gravel road looking off toward the lone tree; I’ve been here many times to make a photograph of the tree from this same perspective. I have a contact print in my office of a view made with an 8×10 Zone VI camera. And probably a dozen images of a Vespa or motorcycle including an early one made during an Altoona trek on the LX150.
By the time I arrived at this place near Seven Stars, Pennsylvania I had stopped a dozen times to make photographs and was in a rhythm that I can’t call riding or photography — just a ritual dance with camera and scooter. It moves in fits and starts. It’s fueled by desire for recognition, understanding and something I can’t define.
The “ride” a private experience and responsible for my reluctance to ride with others — in part embarrassed to put my compulsive behavior on display, but mostly because I’ll grow annoyed finding anyone in the way of eye and camera, scooter and road.
I made about seventy photographs during the ride and have been sifting through the experience, making notes, looking at the pictures, wondering what it was all about. Perhaps something will come of it worth sharing.
For now, just a single image made with my iPhone and processed with Google’s Snapseed app. A Vespa on a gravel farm road under a sky of drama.
Just the way I like it.
Yours seems to be one of the best explanations of why I seldom ride (pedal- or engine-powered) or photograph in the company of others: not a matter of my being anti-social per se, but partly because I feel my impulsive stop-and-go antics would simply get on others’ nerves (I have solid evidence for this), as well as my desire/need not to be distracted when That Moment comes: the photographic moment no one else would likely catch simply because no one else can be in my head and I need to pull off the road right now…
And it’s inching closer to 60º as I’m typing this, and I’m waiting semi-patiently for FedEx to deliver a package Sig. Other (who’s in Gotham for most of the day) is expecting. Melody is parked right outside, while I do a little house cleaning while I wait. Want to take the little digital Nikon, but I think it’s broken for good this time, so I’ll probably drop the D300 in the pet carrier when I’m ready and take off. Finally, the weather is nice, and I’m not under it!
The desire to not be distracted, whatever we perceive the distraction to be, can be strong. It’s like needing space to think when someone keeps talking and all I want is to be left alone at that moment. Difficult to explain, enforce or request. Same with riding with others. And if the group is larger that desire is impossible to embrace.
It was warm and now rainy and miserable. I’m anxious for some more reliably pleasant weather.
Yes, today was a blown chance for me. Sorta remembered DST kicked in today, but I didn’t totally adjust to that “lost” hour, then by the time I was thinking abut going, Sig. Other wanted to get out of the house in the car, and insisted I accompany her instead. Then it started raining, and she said “See? You wouldn’t have enjoyed riding anyway.”
And tomorrow is bringing rain, full-stop. Life can be worse, of course.
No plans, no goals, no expectations. That’s how I try to live my riding life. Same happened here — rain, rain, rain. And unfortunately more rain in the forecast.
Everything is conspiring against me!
A great photo in difficult light that takes care of both the Vespa and the tree admirably. Not bad those iPhones and well done to the photographer!
The iPhone is a capable camera. The biggest threat is the ease of overprocessing with all the cool apps available.
I really like the single tree photos you do with the sky as the background for the entire tree. It sometimes seems odd that a single tree would be left standing.
Those single trees in many cases were left standing to provide midday shade for a team of plow horses or mules while the farmer ate his lunch. More and more they are being taken down to get a few more bushels of corn…
Great description of riding off with no destination in mind, then something along the way triggering thoughts that dictate the subsequent riding and stops.
Sometimes, the light changes and what had been boring landscape on a previous ride is now causing you to stop the rig and take a picture.
Sometimes, just looking back the way you just rode…
All sorts of things happen when you ride if you’re open to them. It’s so different than driving a car. Aside from a shared roadway there is nothing in common between the two. At least in my mind…
Nice post; good job describing riding and camera work. I’ve often thought of myself as an old dog making his rounds, ‘marking’ his territory.
Snapseed is great; I like it too.
Thanks for the kind words Rick. Here’s to both of us making the rounds for a long time!