Anatomy of a Vespa Rider

Thoughts and Musings with Andy Heckathorne

Andy Heckathorne’s recent winter riding photographs on Instagram sparked the idea of interviewing him. Those images, along with the portrait with the coffee mug above visually encapsulate his easy and thoughtful manner. This is my first interview in 15 years of posting on Scooter in the Sticks. When I saw those scenes of his Vespa GTS300 scooter on those snow-covered roads I just had to know a little more about what made him tick.

Andy is an art director at Penn State, where he and a team of designers manage the branding and advertising needs for more than 50 revenue-generating auxiliary and business units. These include Housing and Food Services, The Nittany Lion Inn, and the Bryce Jordan Center.

After hours, Andy also runs his own illustration and design business. His artwork’s been featured on everything from albums, billboards, and beer trucks, to sports uniforms and on the American Eagle Building in Times Square.

Andy lives with his wife and three teenaged sons in Bellefonte, Pennsylvania, a lovely Victorian town about 12 miles from Penn State. His favorite outdoor activities include hiking, kayaking, playing softball, exercising the family dog, and of course, riding his Vespa scooter.

I’m always interested in how a person comes to own and ride a Vespa scooter. What’s your story?

I suspect it was a few different factors.

First–when I was a small kid my dad had a late-60s model golden-yellow Honda Trail 90. I have fond memories of the rides he would take me on in the woods behind our house in Petrolia, Pennsylvania, a small town about 50 miles north of Pittsburgh. He was a school teacher, so we had plenty of opportunity to ride during the summer months. Without a doubt, this joy of riding with my dad planted a seed that I would rediscover many years later.

Another contributing factor is undoubtedly my personal aesthetic that is drawn to early to mid 20th century design. That would include anything from vintage advertising and baseball uniforms to hand painted signs and classic automobiles. Somewhere along the line, the time honored lines and shape of the Vespa scooter made its way into my consciousness.

Eventually fate got in the way: I began to regularly see a Vespa parked outside my building at work. I admired it on a daily basis, hoping to catch a glimpse of the owner or see it in action. I recall being amused one evening as I walked through the parking lot, seeing an inch and a half of snow on both my car and this Vespa parked side by side. I shook my head in wonder at the moxie of this mystery rider.

Getting a Vespa of my own soon became a recurring family joke. For several years–when my birthday would roll around–I’d tell my wife and small boys that the only gift I wanted was a Vespa scooter. In due time I got serious about buying one, finally purchasing my Vespa 300 GTS in the fall of 2016.

A lot of people ride recreationally. You’ve added commuting to your riding life. Considering the commitment necessary and demands of daily riding on two wheels, what influenced that decision?

I didn’t start out thinking about those categories. I just wanted to ride as much as possible. Seeing the Vespa parked outside my building no doubt reinforced the thought that commuting is just what you do.

Soon I began to connect with other riders. I began to notice other motorcycle riders who would commute in the warmer months and asking each other, “Did you ride today?” is still part of our daily routine.

I met you, Steve, soon after purchasing my scooter, and the perception that year-round riding is “just what you do” was reinforced yet again. I subscribed to “Scooter in the Sticks” and have relied heavily on your treasure trove of posts with what to expect in various weather conditions and what gear is available.

Many consider riding a motorcycle, or scooter, to exist in the pantheon of “You’ll shoot your eye out.” Did you have concerns for safety and how did you determine you would manage that risk?

Yes, for sure. In the months leading up to purchasing my Vespa, I’d binge-watch YouTube for riding videos just to get some sense of the speed and danger of the riding experience.

Sharp turns and slippery gravel have always been some of my biggest concerns, and to this day my overactive imagination can concoct all sorts of morbid scenarios and horrific images, often while I’m riding. I view this as a healthy fear and from time to time I intentionally remind myself of these thoughts when I feel myself becoming distracted.

Perhaps the primary way that I manage safety concerns is by monitoring my speed. I do enjoy the thrill of going faster from time to time, but typically save that rush for straightaways that have plenty of space and visibility. If the road surface is wet, or if there is the potential for ice or snow, I slow down considerably. Until I began riding, I had no idea that road paint can be slippery — even on a dry day. I try to file lessons like this away and learn from them.

Keeping track of the daily weather forecast is an area I could improve on. More than once I’ve ridden to work and folks will ask if I knew about that day’s impending storm. Admittedly a bit of a thrill comes from the challenge of riding home in that stuff but to counterbalance the danger, I try to pick lightly traveled routes. This approach gives me the option of moving at a snail’s pace if I need to.

How does your family feel about you riding a Vespa scooter?

The family reviews were a bit mixed at the beginning. My boys were very excited and immediately wanted me to take them for rides. I’d even use it as an incentive–“if you finish your homework, tomorrow i’ll take you to school on the Vespa.” They are teenagers now, but still ride with me occasionally.

My wife, on the other hand, took more convincing. Her concerns, of course, dealt primarily with safety. Winning her over took time, but gradually she even began to ride with me. We would go extra-slow and I’d check on her with a yell–“IS THIS A GOOD SPEED??” We visited new roads I’d discovered, stop for a drink or bite to eat, and I’d steadily introduce her to this brand new way of seeing the world. Eventually, I bought and installed a backrest, and this seemed to seal the deal. Now she feels more secure that she won’t fall off, which is always a plus.

We both know riding is fun. But there’s something more, something deeper in the experience. What have you discovered while riding?

Riding is healing for me. I’ve noticed I often carry the noise and stress of daily life with me to the scooter–but after about 45 minutes to an hour–my focus begins to change. I begin to notice the beauty of the natural world around me. My mindset slows from the deadline-driven pace of work to one of gratefulness and contentment.

Nothing transports me away from negative thoughts or memories of the past and returns me to the present like the scent of pine or a wood stove or feeling the warmth of the winter sun on my face. The cold wet sting of an unexpected rain shower interrupts any fearful thoughts of the future and lifts me back to the here and now. Even the presence of danger prompts me to be present moment-by-moment, and reminds me that I am alive and healthy.

There is something, too, about traveling inside the sterile frame of four wheels, glass, and metal that prevents me from fully feeling like I’ve really EXPERIENCED the places I’ve visited. I never feel this way on the Vespa. The sights, sounds, and smells, as well as the temperature and feel of the moving air all conspire to tell my senses a much more complete story. There is a richness there that I’d never felt before.

What’s been the biggest challenge to you as a rider?

For me, the biggest challenge as a rider has to be the maintenance and mechanical aspects of the Vespa.

For starters, I don’t have a great deal of confidence or know-how in this area. I am an artist, not a mechanic. To make matters worse, I don’t pay enough attention to mileage schedules that could help me avoid certain problems. This is not a good combination. For example, I blew a tire after putting more than 6,000 miles on it. I had my drive belt fall apart because of excessive mileage as well. I don’t recommend doing things this way!

Utilizing web-based forums like modernvespa.com or watching Robot’s how-to videos from scooterwest.com have been invaluable. Several of my riding friends–like you, Steve–keep an eye out for me as well, offering advice when I encounter a problem or giving tips on how to do the repairs myself.

As a result, I’ve begun to handle some of the easier items. I change my own oil and filter now. I replaced my burned out halogen headlight with a new LED lamp, as well as installed a new gasket bushing on the exhaust. Baby steps…

You’ve decided to ride through the winter. That’s an unusual choice for a rider, scooter or otherwise. What led you to that decision?

One reason for that decision was simply a desire to squeeze every last drop out of the “normal” riding season. Soon I began to learn a few “winter hacks” from you and others that have allowed me to extend it into a year-round thing. These include a few “uncool” items such as ski mittens, lots of layers, and a real game changer: the Tucano Urbano Termoscud apron. That thing is basically a heated blanket for my legs. Genius!

Another reason for the decision–winter can be a depressing time of the year. The shorter days, freezing temperatures, and lack of sunlight conspire against me and my frame of mind. Often this time of year I need to ride the Vespa the most. I view it as a way of taking care of my mental health.

It’s worth noting that my most significant deterrent to riding in the winter is NOT the cold. It is instead the time and hassle of putting on all that gear every time I need to go somewhere. Sometimes it is quite wonderful to change things up and simply slip on a jacket and climb inside a warm car.

We’re fortunate to be able to ride in a beautiful part of Pennsylvania. How has riding changed your perceptions of the landscape?

Riding gives me the feeling of being more connected to the landscape–the beauty, the scale, the geography–in a way I’ve never previously experienced nor could have anticipated. As my radius of familiarity continues to expand, so does my sense of “home”.

One of the first rides I ever took on the Vespa was on a local mountain road that is filled with seemingly endless twists and turns, beautiful views, and–on this occasion–the autumn foliage was at it’s peak. I made my ascent and leaned into each turn. It was like skiing uphill! The thrill was unexpected and I was ecstatic.

The excitement of finding an undiscovered road that has been sitting there all along, is another pleasant surprise. Now as I ride, I find myself scanning distant hills for signs of unknown roads or trails, even anticipating where a road might be based upon the lay of the land. I have returned home from many a ride excitedly declaring to whoever might be listening that I have just discovered a “secret passage” to a nearby town or village.

Let’s switch gears for a minute and talk about art. You’re an obviously gifted artist, designer and illustrator. I’m curious though, has riding had an effect on your work?

Great question. You’ve really got me thinking on this one.

I’m not so sure riding shows up visibly in each composition or paint stroke per se, but definitely in the state of mind that I bring with me to each piece.

Before I became a rider, I was beginning to buy in to the notion that to be a good artist, I had to be a kind of stereotypical “tortured soul.” I had some lofty yet nebulous goals as an Illustrator that I had not reached. I was feeling a lot of self-imposed pressure to drum up business, take control and make things happen professionally. I was attaching my value as a person to my work, which was quite simply a very bumpy ego trip filled with a few highs and even more lows.

Riding grounds me. It gets me out of the hustle mindset and into a grateful headspace. I don’t have to perform, I just have to experience, observe, and savor. It is a freeing feeling when I take a ride and see that the world is not all about me, but is still there as a gift that I can take part of and enjoy.

As a result, my art doesn’t have to have a self-serving agenda. Instead, it can become honest and speak to parts of myself that I am not particularly proud of. These vulnerable areas knit us together as humans, and perhaps my work might even resonate more with people when it comes from this place.

It is far too easy for me to drift back into old habits and ways of thinking. Riding is a tool I use with the hopes that something new is being created within.

I’ve always felt photography has allowed me to explore who I am. I can’t seem to stop making photographs of myself. You’ve shared a couple self portraits. How does that kind of work function in your life?

Ha, I definitely do this too. Perhaps it’s a form of existential echolocation? I may make a photo or illustration of myself and “float it out there” in front of my eyes and those of others to get some kind of reading or bearings in return. It’s a form of information gathering with the hopes of answering the question, “who am I?”

Seeing the lines forming around my eyes or graying wisps of gray hair beginning to creep in are a shock to my system. Seeing what other people have to look at when I enter the room is an odd experience, one that they seem to be more comfortable with than I am myself. And like many, I strongly dislike the sound of my own voice when hearing it in a video or recording.

There is that part, too, of recognizing that I am caught somewhere in between “who I am” as a person and “who I want to be.” Self portraits give me an opportunity to send a message the other direction: “what you think you see in me is not all there is.” At my best, it is a desire to be authentic. At my worst, it is a desire to use smoke and mirrors to curate my identity.

Back to riding, any plans for long rides, overnight trips or other adventures?

No set plans, but a few ideas.

I’ve been wanting to ride to Pittsburgh for a baseball game and capture some GoPro footage as I ride across some of the bridges. Maybe this is the summer I’ll make this happen.

And I’d like to ride to AmeriVespa and participate in the activities next time it’s held on the east coast. There is something about touring with a large group of Vespa riders that appeals to me.

And my big bucket list item — I’d love to go on a Vespa road trip in Europe–Italy, Greece, Spain–doesn’t really matter as long as it winds through ancient towns with views of the Mediterranean. I would take a million photos and undoubtedly be inspired to draw or paint some of those scenes as well.

Sounds like you have plenty of riding to look forward to with your Vespa. Turning back to riding, we all learn something while on the road. What kind of advice would you offer someone thinking about riding or getting a scooter?

Riding has been such a positive outlet for me, it is tempting to say “everyone should ride!” My only real hesitation would be over safety concerns.

So my advice would be: Be honest with yourself about whether your health and strength are at an appropriate level for riding. Do you have good spatial awareness and balance? Do you have good reaction time? Do you get stressed when driving in heavy traffic or if the weather is bad? How is your vision? Do you have any problems driving at night? These questions and more should be considered.

I recommend talking to an experienced rider that you trust. It would definitely be a bonus if they can speak to the type of machine you are looking at, and what they know about your skill level.

A final question. You’ve mentioned that riding makes you a better man. What you mean?.

The past few years have been both a tumultuous season for me, and a period of personal growth. During this time, the Vespa has accompanied me to scores of therapy sessions and support groups, lessening my resistance to those difficult trips.

Many hours have been spent simultaneously riding and processing what led me to this time in my life, unpacking wisdom from my counselors, and feeling every emotion behind the privacy of my helmet’s visor. The Vespa has certainly helped me leave negative thought patterns behind and has become somewhat of a personal symbol of serenity.

Thomas Merton found solitude in “St. Anne’s,” an abandoned toolshed that he fixed up as a hermitage. In a very real sense, the Vespa provides me with a similar space. A moving hermitage.

My wife has learned to identify when I need to “go for a ride.” Her suggestions to take a few hours and recharge are music to my ears, she has told me many times that the positive difference she sees upon my return is unmistakable.

Thanks for taking the time to share your thoughts and experiences as a Vespa rider. And for sharing some of your creative life. Let’s go for a ride soon!

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I hope you find something of interest in Andy’s experience as a Vespa rider. We’ll be on the road together at some point as the weather softens and I’ll be sharing more on the continuing adventures of scooter riders in central Pennsylvania!

Be safe.