Sometimes Riding is Secondary
Do you set time aside to take in the autumn landscape? To remember times in the woods?
The autumn landscape in central Pennsylvania is nothing short of stunning. I’ve been witness to the symphony of color and fragrance for 47 years — on foot, riding a bicycle, from within an automobile, from the air and astride a scooter or motorcycle. Of all the ways I have enjoyed these landscapes the most compelling has been with the Vespa scooter.
On this particular day, I was not concerned with the ride beyond its ability to move me into the world. I wasn’t thinking of performance, lines through curves or anything like that beyond remaining safe and aware of the road. I just wanted to take in the scenery.
How often do you “watch the woods” and look at the autumn landscape? Or any landscape you happen to live in?
Into the Woods and Wet Leaves
It rained through the night and had only stopped an hour before I departed. Wet leaves on wet pavement provide an early reminder of winter snow and ice and the care required to keep the rubber side down.
While I’m sure this never happens to riders who follow Scooter in the Sticks, but I can get a bit overconfident. While making this photograph and looking around at the forest I was getting more excited to venture on into autumn euphoria. And in doing so, I missed the wet, wooden bridge surface as a possibly slippery surface. It was and as I jumped on the throttle the Vespa fish-tailed wildly.
I was lucky to maintain this picture as something idyllic rather than disastrous.
Gravel Blessings
In wet or snowy weather riding on gravel is a blessing. The traction provided is a welcome tradeoff with speed or risk of dumping the scooter. Riding along the narrow State Forest roads at slow speed, taking in the fragrance of autumn decay, the glow of warm-hot leaves and the silence that overpowers everything hearkens to an arcadian existence that I dream of.
Leaves, Leaves and More Leaves
I’ve witnessed this scene before.
My love of autumn leaves extends far back into my youth. From walks in the woods with my mother and father. Red plaid Woolrich jackets and orange and crimson leaves etch colors in my mind.
Riding the Vespa this time of year triggers a flood of memories. At once pleasant but twinged with melancholy and loss. I’m not a Vespa rider. Or any kind of rider. I’m haunted. Pursued. It’s almost as if the present comes in close contact with the past and I’m left standing with one foot in 2019 and another in 1965.
Lest I fall to tears I ride on.
Ghosts and Apparitions
I am not superstitious. I believe in ghosts.
The woods are full of spirits this time of year and I can’t outrun them on the scooter. Stand too long in one place is like staring in a mirror in an empty old house. I begin to feel uneasy and wait for something to tap me on the shoulder.
I wish I could report more about the Vespa scooter and what it’s like to ride. But on this trip, well, my mind was elsewhere. Part of me is willingly seduced by the flights of imagination that come easily this time of year. Another part is frozen by the memories that normally remain securely locked up in the boxes in my mind.
I’ve asked if you take the time to experience the autumn landscape. Perhaps the more interesting question is, “Are you haunted by memories in autumn?”
No, not haunted by memories of autumn. Too busy getting ready for winter. At least, that used to be the routine.
Being in Alaska probably gives an entirely different meaning to winter than it does here. No Currier and Ives whimsical winter scenes from Alaska!
A wonderful tail to share with a cup of coffee this morning. The window is open and the cold 63 degree breeze is blowing in bringing autumn feelings to the room. With that and your writing I am transported to a wonderful place I miss; the likes of where you are riding. I just don’t miss it enough to let the temperture drop below 63.
We’re 20 to 30 degrees lower than you are right now. And that’s still in the comfortable riding range. It’s all about the right riding gear!
I’ll try and keep you stocked with some alternative riding places…
I confess that autumn in Florida is a non event. Most trees don’t lose their leaves and those that do, don’t have vibrant colors such as you described. This morning is only the second morning I’ve awakened to temperatures below 70. It’s a fabulous 60 degrees and in a couple of hours I’ll be riding – the first ride in months I’ve not returned home completely sweat soaked under my gear.
Like you however, I will start having flashbacks to childhood days due to the holidays approaching. I too will fight off melancholy – what was can never be again. I’m 64 and have far fewer days ahead of me, than behind and as I ride, I will fiercely miss the past. The motorcycle will link me to memories of a new bicycle at Christmas, shiny spokes flashing in the sun.
Riding this morning, the motorcycle will be my time machine as it usually is. Reading this post Steve, accomplished the same thing. Wonderful prose. Perhaps this morning I’ll once again be on my first motorcycle – a 1972 Yamaha 80 – thanks for the memories!
You have other things in Florida. Vast bodies of water. Warmer climate. Fire ants, pythons, alligators and the stray Nile crocodile. Everywhere has it’s unique character. I’m glad I can share some of what I experience here in central Pennsylvania.
I appreciate your kind words about my writing. Hopefully, I can continue to explore the thoughts, feelings, and experiences while riding. Knowing there are fewer days ahead than behind has sharpened my attention though has not translated into the level of action I desire. Let’s hope we each find our way ahead!
Thanks for the great post, Steve! How often do I watch the woods? Constantly! Here in southern Ontario, we’ve been blessed this year again with a fall season full of brilliant yellow and red landscapes. We all know the best roads where the colors are the most dramatic and where the silence of the surrounding woods is the most profound. Probably much like Pennsylvania, if I remember correctly. Fall is definitely the best season for slow riding on a scooter.
Sounds as if southern Ontario is not so different than here save for the mountains. It definitely is the season for slow riding — scooter or motorcycle!
Love your contemplative comments, Steve. Through a combination of obligations and fast-dropping temperatures in the Indiana/Michigan area, I didn’t get to enjoy the trappings of autumn this year so I’m reliving it with you.
I understand how life can step in front of plans to ride or do things I desire. Slowly, too slowly, I’m learning to let go and let life unfold as it will rather than as I want it to. A gift of old age maybe? Or finally learning the lessons that come my way…
Glad I could help you enjoy a little of autumn!
Almost all of those trees that drop their leaves in our part of the World have sadly done so and yet Autumn is just past the halfway mark. Perhaps the presence of ghosts? Fall does remind of yet another year coming to a close, the circle of life and a personal accounting. I so enjoy walking and riding this time of year, purposely aiming for that mess of leaves on the sidewalk , trail or road and the subsequent dust up. Enjoyable Sunday morning read Steve and your photographs seem Fall fragrance infused. I could easily settle for another month or two, I think Winter is highly overrated.
I have similar incredulous reactions that autumn is only halfway complete. It’s likely a desire to get to winter and get on with spring.
Ghosts. They’re everywhere. Just easier to notice now. And that ability to notice is likely connected to awareness of the circle of life and all the personal accounting that can occur. Riding helps me remain open to it all and mute the melancholy choir at the same time. Interesting how things work.
I used to love winter but now I fear I’m in your camp — winter is highly overrated.
I’m fortunate to be emerging from winter into a warm spring where I am, but your words are no less relevant to me. A timely reminder to enjoy the bright days as another autumn will come soon enough. And the wet wooden bridge immediately reminds me of dropping my bike on newly laid planks on a single lane bridge in wet weather a couple of years ago. It was fortunately at very low speed. It all happens very fast. Beautiful imagery as always Steve.
You’ve touched on an important point Shane — to enjoy the bright days as we can for all the seasons will swing around to us again as the clock ticks on.
The wooden planked bridges are crazy slippery. And as you say, things happen quickly on two wheels.
I must say though I’m a bit envious that a warm spring approaches for you. I’m not looking forward to winter. Not just because it will curtail some of my ridings, but also because winter takes a heavier toll each year on my aging body. Warm clothes and lots of them are my mottoes!
This past Friday we had cold rain that turned to black ice. The highway departments put down salt to prevent accidents but the streets show salt dust. My bikes are parked until a good rain rinses off the salt. I like them too much to let salt coat them.
Black ice. Ugh.
No salt on the road here yet. I’ve spent years getting the Vespa covered in salt but not sure I will do the same with the BMW. Already I have found myself avoiding routes where I know the bike will end up a mess. Call me a wimp…
I’m alive and walking a year to the day after I left the hospital. Screw melancholy I’ve got a life to live. Next month I start the state retirement plan and I’m looking forward to old age on the road. You go and kick dead leaves I’m off to enjoy another sunny day in the Keys.
Time really flies. And I’m still here sitting on the blog post of your epic journey. Retirement might be the bookend I need to finish it.
Congratulations on retirement, riding again, and living life. And of your dramatic elevation of photographic vision. The stuff you post on your blog is exceptional. I look but don’t comment. Bad on me. I will be commenting on your exceptional “Equivalents” piece. Amazing stuff.
For now, I’m still about dead leaves. Spent another hour this morning raking them to the street for the township to come and take them away. It’s a balmy 48F now. Should be riding but am diverted by other tasks. That’s a failure…
Just the opposite. Calmed and serenely content by the autumns past and present. Thanks for your contribution Steve.
Perhaps one day I’ll be able to say the same.
Autumn. I was born at the very beginning of autumn in a time when September was still an autumn month; I’m lucky enough to live in a part of Tuscany where the sea is just three km away and the nearly 2000 m tall mountains just five kms away in the opposite direction. This means that commuting is done parallel to the coastline and venturing into the mountains is often just a diversion; that kind of diversion I start looking for in autumn. Chestnut trees fill the hills and lower mountains, with their wide slippery leaves, but we have no gravel roads here unless you start climbing headed to the mountain paths and the mountain tops.
And another heartbeating late autumn task is my ginkgo quest; a lot of detours just to see if all the ginkgo trees I know have turned yellow or not.
This year, sadly, heavy rain is pretty frequent and I’m stuck into a CH4 car to commute to work. 20 km of thoughts like “oh, if only I could have ridden my Vespa”…
I can only imagine how beautiful the landscape in Tuscany might be. I’ve never made it farther south than Bolzano and Cortina. There the mountains are majestic and the riding would seem exquisite. Riding where you are between the sea and the mountains would be exceptional.
No chestnut trees here anymore. The Chestnut Blight ravaged North America a hundred years ago and removed them from the landscape. It’s said at one time a squirrel could travel from the coast to the Mississippi River without ever leaving a chestnut tree.
We do have Ginkgo trees in town and their leaves become stunning in autumn. Every once in a while someone will plant a Ginkgo of the wrong sex and it will dump a lot of the foul-smelling fruit.
It’s been wet here a lot lately. But soon the weather will change and I’ll be on the road again. Hope you find the same opportunity!
I hope so! Temperatures suddenly dropped some days ago, I’ll look for my long johns 🙂
Chestnut trees, what a pity. As for the ginkgo, I wonder how a female tree can bear fruits without a male one in the neighbourhood; sometimes pollen acts in mysterious ways. Or maybe it rides a Vespa.
Enjoy this winter and this 2020, and godspeed!
Thank you for your kind wishes. I hope 2020 is a great year for us both.