It’s as if no one can touch you when you ride…
Lure of the Open Road
No matter how many times I see the road reach out into the distance I still get a thrill. In this place, I experience a sense of freedom. It keeps me coming back. On the road no one can touch me. Cares and concerns melt before the wind and pavement.
I’m certain that riding sets you free.
My friend Paul Ruby and I were going on “a little ride” to breakfast. Stopping in the eastern end of Penns Valley so Paul could look at an old pickup truck I had a chance to survey the road ahead leading through Woodward and Hairy Johns and on toward Laurelton.
In the Mountains
Pennsylvania has mountains. High places covered by a hardwood forest with threads of roads twisting and turning through a fern, rock and moss paradise. Riding introduces you to truth. Sometimes uncomfortable. When I started riding a Vespa 15 years ago I could still scramble up these rocky hillsides to make a photograph. Now it’s a careful trek with the knowledge I could easily break a leg or ankle.
Or maybe I just need better boots.
This picture was made just a few miles from where I dropped the scooter. I was still worried that something bigger might be wrong than the handle bars being out of alignment.
And we hadn’t even had breakfast yet.
No Grids
There are no grids of roads in central Pennsylvania as you climb through the Appalachian Mountains. If I think about them more than a moment I have trouble imagining how they ever came into existence. Or how people made their way through this part of the country 200 years ago.
The Vespa was tracking fine through the most severe turns and curves and any concern I had for the alignment issues faded. The scooter really is at it’s best in this environment. Just watch out for the loose gravel that seems to be everywhere.
Paul Ruby
Departing the Carriage House Restaurant in Mifflinburg, Paul can’t pass up an empty pack of L&M cigarettes as an opportunity to pose. I didn’t spend enough time directing him into the proper Euro grimace. And we really needed a pack of Gauloises cigarettes for the right Ducati feel.
All the photographers I’ve known enjoy being photographed. Paul is no exception.
Cloud Drama
The skies played tricks on the mind the entire ride. Heavy clouds and darkness followed by bright sun and dazzling colors. Riding through that constantly changing illumination just makes the whole experience seem surreal. And I’m an actor in a play bent of flying free.
Riding sets you free.
Pause Along the Susquehanna River
Surveying the view of the river I notice Paul is tossing his helmet in the air. I didn’t ask and he didn’t say but I suspect it was his idea to make the picture more interesting. I just wondered how he would feel if he dropped it and the helmet rolled of the edge to the riverbank below.
He never dropped it after numerous tosses. Don’t lend him your helmet.
Riding Sets You Free
The weather was perfect and the low humidity provided rare summertime views to the horizon. The ride was great even if breakfast consumed 147 miles.
I’m addicted. Or at least suffering a compulsion that drives me out the door and onto the road. I hesitate to count the hours I spend riding. Or thinking about riding. If riding sets you free how come I can’t stop?
When I ride in the snow or sub-zero temperatures am I free or in denial?
Right now, I don’t care. I just want back on the road.
“It’s as if no one can touch you when you ride.”
I think there is more to that statement than meets the eye. I believe that sensation is very real when riding. That illusion, at least for me, includes doctors, sickness, social obligations, and the other worries that clutter my thoughts during the day.
I don’t find that feeling when driving a car, or walking, or doing almost anything other than riding.
Like you said Steve…probably some denial at work here.
For me, riding has been the singular experience that has the power to push most anything from my mind and leave me with temporary sanity. I fine return on investment!
I know the sensation is real for me and always a welcome one too. But I’m not certain where the line is between feeling and illusion. Or if it even matters. Maybe I just think too much.
I used to get that feeling in a car decades ago when I first learned to drive. I was piloting our family 1970 VW Campmobile at age 16. I would explore in it much the same way I do now with the Vespa. But that could have been a response to the new found freedom attendant to driving for the first time. But my memories are rich with that VW. Keeps me dreaming of a second…
It didn’t occur to me that I might drop the helmet but now that you mentioned it I see what you mean. It would bounce off my head or feet and roll down the hill into the river. I felt the photo profit from some sizzle so I tossed my helmet into the air (you are correct).
Of course it had landed on my head and I was knocked out that would be a first for SITS.
Hopefully you won’t appear on my blog as the first crash, police stop, engine failure or other dramatic event. Perhaps just jumping in the air would be enough.
“Sizzle” is never a word I apply to photographs. I’ll have to think about that. Regardless — your antics in front of the camera always adds spice to the visuals…
Riding is blissful denial of the mundane daily life of slogging through work and other drudge. I feel like I am flying and I can only imagine what a pilot feels, I am soaring, bir just at a lower altitude. Glad the Vespa is handling ok.
Yes — you have described it perfectly.
Yes — you sum it up nicely.
The Vespa is fine save for that small alignment issue. I’m in no hurry to fix it but it does bug me…
Thought about you today as I passed by the exit. Glad the Vespa is working fine.
When I have time I’ll loosen the steering head nut and make sure everything is pointing in the right direction!
I was just thinking about this earlier as I was trying to figure out why I continue to ride. Initially it was as you describe, a great way to escape things like job related stress. Riding consumed a lot of brain cycles. Throttle therapy was today’s #MotoChat topic (on Twitter) and I sort of had a hard time relating. I thoroughly enjoy road trips but rarely do I go for a ride just to ride. And road trips are a blast no matter what the mode of transportation.
I always love the words “throttle therapy”. Wish I had come to appreciate them a few decades earlier.
I enjoy road trips too regardless of vehicle. But the experience of riding is different than driving. Riding allows me to shed things more quickly. That make sense?
It makes absolute sense, Steve. Exposed to the elements, as opposed to steering inside a steel and glass cocoon, it’s the difference between playing a video game that takes place out in the woods and stepping outside to take a walk through those woods. In this particular realm, what could be better?
Walking along the beach in Maine listening to the waves break on the rocks. That might be better! At the moment at least.
I finally got the exhaust collar gasket thing fixed yesterday. It felt good being back on the Vespa.
There are some nice country roads north of here. I need to get out there.
That’s an unfortunate design flaw in the Vespa. For years I used one of the brass bushings instead of the graphite gasket until it finally disintegrated. Now withe the new exhaust I’m back to the graphite. We’ll see how annoying it becomes.
You must have a lot of exploring to do in your new environs!
I always thought riders, use their iron steeds to “escape” into another world where one must focus to ride safely, driving all extraneous thoughts from their minds while doing so.
Does riding set you free or allow you to free yourself from usually self-imposed worries?
Hmmm, not sure if it’s freedom or escape. Either way, at the moment, feels good!