Morning Vespa Portrait
I’ve parked my scooter in this same place, under the same morning sky for almost 13 years. From Boalsburg to State College to Saint’s Cafe to embrace a few moments alone with my thoughts, time together with friends, or just to watch my fellow creatures performing their own dance in the world.
The ritual begins with the Vespa, from the moment I push it out of the garage until I arrive in town, riding separates me from most of the thoughts and concerns that haunt me through the day. My mind focuses on the road and nothing else matters. In this space I feel alive.
So there’s a measure of gratitude on my part for somehow finding my way to riding relatively late in my life. I wonder sometimes as I obsessively photograph the scooter whether I’m paying homage to what it represents or just documenting a love affair that’s so thrilling I don’t want to miss a moment of it.
Strange what goes through my head when I have a few moments alone with my thoughts.
Idling in the Road
If I were smart I would park farther away from Saint’s Cafe rather than just around the corner. Walking alone, without music or distraction, is a pleasure. Does me no good to rush things — while riding, or while doing anything else.
A pause to admire the shadows on the street and to feel grateful to live somewhere that affords some idle time in the middle of the road — a few moments alone with my thoughts.
Time and Moleskine Don’t Equal Writing
My preferred position in cafes, a far corner looking across the room where I can survey the world in relative anonymity. Arriving early to Saint’s on weekends usually affords this opportunity. During the week when the college students are around it’s packed early. Whoever says students don’t go to 8am classes must not frequent college town coffee shops.
I’ve been struggling of late with writing. Blundering along but unable to move my thoughts from brain to page. “Pen-sickness” is a term I’ve recently come across while reading “Spying on the South” by Tony Horwitz. Reading it’s description I have self-diagnosed myself as a sufferer.
A few moments alone with my thoughts, journal at hand, is usually enough to push pass any procrastination or resistance. But not this time. Instead I just want to ride, walk, work in the garden, spend time with Kim or play with the dogs. Writing is a struggle. Maybe I’ve said all I have to say.
Or maybe I just need a few more moments alone with my thoughts.
I sometimes wake up in a state of inertia, most often in Winter. A walk or a ride truly wakes me up realising I am part of a much larger scene than that I awoke to and that the possibilities are endless. Often a morning walk serves as a near perfect hors d’oeuvre to the ride, excepting that l generally miss the morning light on the bike. Another thoughtful post Steve … Thankyou
I’m familiar with the inertia of which you speak. It feels relentless at times. And I agree with the power of a ride or a walk.
Morning light — its promise often has me out on the scooter or motorcycle for no good reason other than to bear witness to the world. It’s a good things. Of late the mornings have been cooler and I sense some change in the light. Inside I feel the coming of autumn and the winter to follow. Today that ok but on another morning I know I’ll feel differently.
Onward!
Eventually, Steve, the pitcher has to be refilled before we can pour . Gardening, riding, hanging with Kim, taking pictures… seems like you’ve turned the tap on.
I never thought of it that way Terry. Thank you for the insight. Scary how big and empty the pitcher must be at times!
I recently read the autobiography of Thomas Merton, the Trappist Monk and prolific writer who lived for many years at an abbey in Kentucky before passing away sometime in the late 1960’s. He would often retreat into the woods to a little tool shed he nicknamed “St. Ann’s,” where he could take in the sights and sounds of nature without interruption and have space for his own thoughts.
I get a similar vibe when I read your blog and look at your photographs: your Vespa seems to be the means to which you are able to enter that world of beauty and contemplation. This is why I enjoy following along.
Thanks for sharing!
When I first read The Seven Story Mountain 20 years ago Merton’s reliance on finding quiet space for his thoughts resonated with me. Similar feelings emerged from Thoreau’s Walden and Edward Abbey’s Desert Solitaire. It’s no wonder I suppose that I see those quiet places when I ride. And make photographs.
Hope things are going well with you.
I was a little concerned when this post came to my in-box at noon and not at the normal time of the early morning. Is this the one? Should I wait until later today and read it with a martini in hand or wait until the wee hours of the morning with a coffee and a grappa? Something to sooth me into your new mode of transportation? Alas, I will just take a peek and see what it is. I don’t have to read the whole thing.
I was surprised to find that the chosen mode of transport was still the scooter! But, after reading your report of how you a in a writing slump in the dog days of summer, (a normal occurrence this time of year) I think you might need to throw your leg over that big mighty motor and go for a ride. Maybe power and speed will stir the writing genes and you will escape from your slump.
I almost didn’t post because I was thinking of you Ken. Then I said, what the hell, Ken will survive. This morning though you’ll have another 5am email….
The Vespa and BMW share the riding load right now. I have been riding the motorcycle a bit more but I suspect novelty is at work. Evaluate it again in a few months to see if one or the other emerges as a clear choice.
The only thing that really works for me with writing is practice. I have to just sit down and write. If I wait for inspiration I’m doomed. Riding on the other hand — I require no inspiration. I have to mediate my use of scooter or motorcycle lest that would be all that I do.
Hope your morning coffee and grappa is satisfying!
We live in different psyches Steve. Last weekend I did a ride on the Chinese scooter that still has me stirring.
https://walkway.org/more-than-1000-motorcyclists-cross-walkway-during-skyride/
Over 1,000 bikes and four scooters, a breathtaking view from atop the Hudson River and an end at Motorcyclepedia, a motorcycle museum in Newburgh, NY. Everyone is still talking about it here. I enjoy the camaraderie of a bunch of motorcycle enthusiasts. Even on my Helix knockoff people were receptive and didn’t treat me like an outcast. The first time we stopped before crossing the Hudson someone immediately said, “How do you like that Helix?” as he stepped off his Moto Guzzi.
I enjoy spectacle and I love to be a part of it. A little Narcissism I guess.
Jim, Steve’s thoughtful moments with his Vespa and pen always stop me in my tracks to point me down the road of simpler pleasures. NellyBelle (white and blue Vespa 150) and I, with Bob and his black Vespa were two of the three other scooters at the SkyRide over the Hudson last week. We had a lovely dawn ride down from Schenectady NY and struck up some delightful conversations with a few V-Twin riders at the event.
That’s an impressive feat — a thousand motorcycles and four scooters across the Walkway. Glad it was enjoyable.
We do live in different psyches Jim. That diversity of thought and deed make life interesting. What a bore to only know people like me.
There is spectacle here in central Pennsylvania but I must admit I mostly steer clear. Crowds of people suck the life from me rather than the other way round. Yesterday saw the first Penn State home football game — a huge spectacle here. And except for those times I was “forced” to attend as part of my job as a photographer I kept as far away as possible. But on the other hand I did attend the BMW International Rally in Bloomsburg, PA some years ago and thoroughly enjoyed that spectacle. Go figure…
Perhaps, Steve, different sources for inspiration and writing. You know, like an epic RV trip to the west with Vespa and Beemer in tow…..
Wait — no mention of a URAL?
Are you in the hospital??
With retirement comes enlightenment…..maybe
Well, it certainly isn’t automatic. More time and space to seek it but not sure I’ll ever really find it. The journey is satisfying though.
Hello Steve,
Tout à fait d’accord avec toi; une fois de plus !
En France, on appelle cela “gamberger”.
Hello Steve,
Totally agree with you; one more time !
In France, it’s called “gamberger”.
Laurent.
“Gamberger” — yes, exactly. Thinking and dreaming!
“Gamberger” – oui, exactement. Penser et rêver!
This morning brought a short ride to the train station, parking, paying for parking, and boarding a train to Gotham for a tech gig (which I did day before yesterday). That ride to the station was, and almost always is, a true tonic that helps bolster me for whatever challenges lie ahead (and, in my field, there are almost always challenges). Late in the day, the process reverses, with the scooter ride being the savory last leg before hitting home. It’s not always about distance (though longer is usually better); the delicious sensory experience of movement, space, light, and air just can’t help but captivate and gently invigorate. Your written experience certainly mirrors this for me, incredibly well.
Riding is kind of magical in the regard you describe. Good medicine. To borrow a tired phrase — chicken soup for the soul. Too bad so many have such negative ideas about riding.
What is the difference between a ritual and a routine?
One letter.
I suppose for me, my rituals are more mindful. I’m paying more attention. Routines can be kind of mindless. So one is done with intention and the other because I have to. Or something like that…
The only question I have Steve, How many moles dose it take to cover a writing journal?
It take’s 17 moles to cover a journal. It’s sad.
So, have you bought a scooter or motorcycle yet? Tell Elaine that Kim got me a motorcycle for my birthday. She should keep up.
Breakfast?