Man in the Mirror
I haven’t posted since September 11th. I blame existential angst. I was already feeling off, a vague yet persistent feeling that something was wrong. The past stirred and the future loomed, each reeking havoc on the present, the only place I actually live and breathe.
I see the struggle in my face. There’s less laughter and song. I’ve begun to look like I feel.
I’ve been riding. There is no dust on the Vespa scooter or BMW motorcycle. And my cameras have seen heavy use. But the existential angst, a gnawing anxiety, has stripped me of the desire to write. To share. To do anything other than escape the trials of the moment.
With no end is sight, I push the scooter out of the garage and ride away. Each time wondering if something different will occur.
Autumn Glow
It’s shocking how quickly summer has turned into autumn. The palette of colors has shifted dramatically from the verdant greens of summer into a shimmering autumn glow. It’s burnt into my mind. I sense the rhythm of life.
It’s good to be riding.
Quiet and Relaxed
A lot has happened since I last posted. More than I want to get into right now. Riding has been infrequent yet still something I turn to when the existential angst gets too loud. The pandemic. Political turmoil. A death in the family. And more.
Watching the world drift by while I ride, stopping to look at the leaves on the ground, breathe in the fragrance of autumn, I’m grateful for the opportunity.
What’s to Come
I don’t remember when I first began to associate the harvesting of corn with the coming of winter. I remember going hunting for the first time with my father. I was 13 and excited to be included with a couple of his friends on opening day of small game season. I remember the heavy canvas hunting coat and pants and the sound it made as I was walking through tall corn that had not yet been harvested. Snow was falling and I was carrying a shotgun. That scene is burned in my head and even now when I see those dried corn stalks I think of snow.
It’s probably why I still stop to look at the corn while riding. Something is there that I can’t quite put my finger on. It’s relaxing. I’m reassured, at least for a moment, that everything is as it should be.
Stopping Time
I’m ever grateful to live where I do. The central Pennsylvania landscape provides endless views of a world where time seems to stop. Or at least slowdown. I tend to ignore or overlook the social aspects of the landscape because they break the spell. Other vehicles on the road, buildings, businesses, and people, they seldom appear in the images I make. I want to escape the concerns I have for myself and the world. The existential angst doesn’t live in the idyllic landscapes I seek.
Scooters in Autumn
Anyone who has followed my blog for awhile knows that I ride more in the cold months. Now that the summer heat has passed my desire to ride has increased. And with it a renewed spark to post. But I feel rusty. And am not sure I have anything to say. The images and words struggle to provide meaning to the feelings I have right now. The ones I describe as existential angst.
It could be the slow breaking-up of writer’s block. Or concern if I don’t write something I may never write again. I’m familiar with both paths. Regardless, I will throw something out in hopes that the next will be easier. And that I will have something to say.
And…I’ve thought about you in that period between posts.
Had a few things happen on this end as well: nothing particularly heavy (condolences to you and yours, of course), but “stuff” nonetheless, and the necessary sorting-out. Still doing lots of riding between home and Gotham for work-stuff, but also some fun things (a few club rides, although I’ll have to miss the season-closer early next month), and getting some maintenance things done on Melody before slogging through Winter with her (unless the Farmer’s Almanac is accurate about this Winter being a real Winter). Glad that you’ve been getting out in the air and rolling…can’t help but help, right?
Be well, and write, and ride, on.
The approach of winter reminds me of all sorts of things to do in regard to the scooter. Even though I ride in the winter my tolerance for cold reduces the days I go out. And if we have a real winter, then all bets are off.
But for now, it’s nice to be out for even short rides.
Here in Florida Steve, I don’t have the cooler weather and bright colors to encourage more riding. I took the Gray Ghost out yesterday and I didn’t feel as old as I have lately. It wasn’t a long ride as I was trying to get some two-wheel time in before the rains came. I’m not a fan of riding in Florida thunderstorms no matter the month.
Shifting through the gears she rumbled along like the proverbial Swiss watch. Taking off my helmet when I returned home, my head soaked in sweat, it wasn’t long before I was back in the doldrums.
For me at least, just too many things going on in life at the moment. Not the least of which is my buzzing mind still wondering what retirement means to me. I started writing about that – back in July and can’t seem to find the words to finish.
You Steve, always have something to say in your posts and wonderful photos to share as well. Still – this particular entry resonated with me. The angst hit home. For me it’s a matter of being right here, right now in this moment – it’s the only one I’m guaranteed.
Stay safe, ride when you can and write. My best to the man in the mirror.
Riding seems to offer up a variety of thoughts, feelings, and experiences. I’m always amazed at how I can feel old during one ride and surprisingly young on another.
Heat does bring me back to some kind of doldrum. Glad to know that I’m not alone in this regard.
The meaning of retirement. I’ve been returned a little over three years now and I still don’t think I’ve found my stride. I’m definitely glad to be retired, and I have plenty to do, but I think I still struggle with not being certain of my “identity.” For so long, it was my job. It could just be a habit but I think it is something more. So many people still ask, “What do you do?” They want to know my career as if it’s how they categorize me.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts Mike. I appreciate them. And so does the man in the mirror!
Sorry to hear you are not on good form …….. fall blues? I recognise what you say about the past stirring and the future looming with adverse impact on the present. I have had a bit of that recently. Hope this passes soon for you.
Time always seems to cure the fall blues. Sometimes quickly. But at other times it seems to linger. Sorry to hear you’re experiencing some of it as well. Perhaps the earth is passing through some seasonal energy field that adversely affects riders…
Well Steve seeing your face and image Dr.Don can tell you are suffering from the “Blue Funk”, good news it isn’t fatal. Continue to ride ,photograph ,and post often and soon your symptoms will clear up ..Sadly they can return however without warning.. I too suffer often from what you have,but usually like today when I get a Scooter in the Sticks post I feel better almost immediately….Hope this helps because you help us all more than you know my friend….Dr.Don Etheredge
Thank you for your diagnosis and prescription, Dr. Don. I appreciate them. I’ve been resisting writing even though I know it always helps. Sometimes I’m most own worst enemy.
Sitting here now, responding to comments with a cup of hot chocolate on hand, and a sleeping dog at my feet I think everything is right with the world. Tomorrow will be a new day and perhaps I’ll be a different man.
Well here we are 0 Celsius this morning. I like riding in the cold but cold weather after a rain can be precarious. I like to write but I am not a writer. Still though a venue to share thoughts and ideas abstract or not is good. I have had many rides this year from Reflex to a Vulcan to a Vespa to a Burgman to a Forza. I like the Forza best. It feels more secure and solid. It’s kind of funny, my first “real bike” was a Honda CB 350 back in the 70s. Now I am back to a Honda 300 after going through many bike and sizes all the way to Goldwing. The bikes kind of parallel my life. The past year, I have been trying to sort out retirement life just like sorting out which bike I like best.
The wind is the same, no matter what you ride so I feel the little Forza is all I really need. Being retired all I really need is love, food, shelter and purpose. I am still sorting out my purpose but in the meantime, I will put the Forza to rest, dig out my snowshoes and continue to ponder the dimension we live in. Why do we do what we do, why do animals do what they do and why does nature do what it does. Maybe I’ll find out in the dimension. For now though, I wait for the spring to scoot around again and ponder anew while riding.
All this blabbering because I read existential Angst.
We had a 0 Celsius morning a few days ago. No rain though. The air was crisp and the sunlight dazzling. By noon it was 50 degrees and perfect for riding but I had my hands full with other chores.
Writing is good medicine. Period. Makes no difference whether it’s good or not. It’s just a relief valve for the brain to pour out onto the page or screen all the noise and BS that clogs the spirit. If it’s a habit for you, bravo. You are among the rare souls that have found that magic elixir.
Sorting out retirement life. I have to admit I haven’t figured it out myself but it’s nice work. And having a motorcycle and/or a scooter around makes it that much better. You’re right about just needing love, food, shelter, and purpose. Since I’ve retired things have become a lot clearer for me.
I wish you luck in your own sorting and hope the need for snowshoes holds off for awhile.
Good to hear from you, Steve, came here on Saturday wondering if I missed something. Sending whatever good vibes I can muster while dealing with some angst myself. Cheers!
Hang in there Joe. You are not alone in wading through angst!
Riding in Central PA is 24 years behind me. Roads and travel are different here in South Jersey, and for what seems like a decade I have relied on you to return me to the nostalgia of the Pennsylvania Hills. Thanks!
I can imagine riding in South Jersey being a completely different experience from the curves and mountains of central Pennsylvania. I’m glad I can provide some stepping stones into your Pennsylvania past!
Angst. Yes, we’ve been taking long rides on the Tri Glide and hikes up in the mountains. Helps. Very nice colors this year. We pass your house once in awhile
Steve I wish I could muster words that I knew confidently would lift your spirits. My sincere condolences to begin. The key to happiness may be to concentrate more on a process of small positive achievements every day rather than on a major goal. I am reading Atomic Habits by James Clear and I am honestly finding it quite inspirational. Much of what is making us anxious are the massive attention grabbing things that are swirling around us these days like ominous clouds. There is precious little you and I can do that will affect any of those outcomes. Focusing on the many tiny things that we can change for the better on a daily basis can lead to exponential change. I sincerely hope this helps. I truly believe it can.
I also recommend watching Emily in Paris on Netflix, and Ted Lasso on Apple TV+.
Robert. I meant to ask you to send me the Keilor piece. Forgot about it until just now.
You and I are fortunate to live where we do. Doesn’t take long to be lost in the mountains or on some beautiful Pennsylvania roads. I’ve seen a number of motorcycles go by but haven’t seen your Tri Glide. Kim and I are still isolated and distancing. It’s easy to forget that my immune system is trashed and shouldn’t be risking encounters with others that I don’t need to risk. So I pretty much stay distanced.
Lake Wobegone book is gone. Indeed we’ve been taking advantage of this weather and these mountains, doing a lot of hiking and day rides, avoiding all contact with people. I’ve a history of collapsed lung and pneumonia, though it’s distant hx.
Staying distant and avoiding contact makes sense for those of us with a history of issues. Pandemic fatigue heightens the risk of bad choices I think. Glad you are finding good ones.
Welcome back, Steve. You are always missed when you don’t post for a while. There is indeed much to be in angst about collectively, not to mention the additional strain of personal challenges you alluded to. My condolences on the loss in your family.
Your self portrait is excellent. The artist in me immediately saw it as a great reference for an illustration. You look like a long-haired Sean Connery.
Winter – even the approach of it – tends to be the time I struggle the most. I think it has to do with the lack of sunlight. Disquietude takes many forms. My own increasing angst has translated into more riding and longer rides, more photography and a sometimes sickening volume of self expression. Taking a break like you have done may be both a cure and gift I can give the world around me.
I look forward to your next post and hope that you and Kim are as healthy as possible.
Thanks Andy. I still owe you a phone call I think. Or an email. I’ve lost track in my vast, sweeping indolence.
There has been more than enough strain and sadness in our family. Someone suggested earlier today that all you can do is just keep rowing. That was a good image for me.
I made the portrait with my new to me Fuji XT-2. When I looked at it on the screen I thought, “Medusa.” Or worse. Love that camera. It has rocked my photographic world and I am deep into a new project.
Yes, the lack of sunlight isn’t good. Something biological in me changes and I feel an emotional heaviness this time of year. I’ve certainly seen photos from your rides that are longer and farther. They remind me of the rides I used to take before circumstances changed that hamper my ability to roam like that.
As long as you’re working and expressing yourself, I always feel that’s a good thing. Bottling up, avoiding and denial lead to some dark places. I hope you find the path that’s right for you.
Kim and I are hanging in, taking things as best we can. Thanks for thinking of us.
Not me. Last week and yesterday I entered events that went through the Catskills. The first was a self guided tour on the 250 Nighthawk. Yesterday eas a group ride that went too fast for my 250 Chinese scooter. While the Fall colors in the hills was quite verdant I was communicating with the road. The little Hawk kept up a quick pace with a stirring of the gearbox and the seventy-seven mile run was done with dispatch. Near the Town of Hunter, NY the road plummeted down a long ravine with dozens of curves and a couple of 10 mph hairpins. Add in the fact that the Nighthawk has small drum brakes, front and rear, and it had my heart pumping. Cars to the left of me going up slowly, steep drop offs to the right of me on the other side of a low steel rail, my exhaust note volleyed and thundered in the plung to the bottom.
Yesterday was another run through the Catskills, but in the company of ninety-two bigger motorcycles on my 250 Helix clone. I was more than able to keep pace in most situations but was wholly inadequate when slow to fast rolling acceleration was required. I guess you need more than a fifteen cubic inch cylinder when the group is carrying over one hundred cubic inch engines but I persevered. I did manage to take a few peaks at the foliage as we reached to top of one peak and noticed groups of people with cameras on the road side. Later I discovered that you could see the Connecticut/Massachusetts border from there but I was busy keeping pace to take it in. From there the ride was quickly done and a barbecued feast was upon us. Lively conversation about the day floated around and for the fourth or fifth time I had to answer inquiries about my strange looking machine.
The ride home had the scooter running at its own speeds and it felt much happier. The view from high atop the Rhinecliff Bridge down to the Hudson River below and the colorful foliage on either bank was stirring. Too soon I was home and the scooter made its usual tink, tink cooling noises as I eased it into the garage. These were probably the best two single days of riding in a while and it felt great to be alive. Next Spring can’t come soon enough.
Jim, I had to turn to Google Maps to view some of the landscapes in which you were riding. The Catskills seem like a fantastic place to ride. And with the adventure, it’s no wonder you’re not feeling much in the way of angst. I envy your travels.
I’m not fond of group rides but your description, and especially the barbecued feast, sounds great. Maybe next spring I’ll stumble into something like that.
Before next spring comes we have some cold weather to cope with. I’ve lost my desire for it. It’s now something to endure or avoid. I hope my body doesn’t take another step to even more intolerance this winter. But already my feet are uncomfortable with the temperatures in the 40s.
There are still a few more rides ahead I think. I need to flush the coolant system on the Vespa though!
Steve, you are not alone in your angst, or the lack of desire to write. For me, the political situation alone gives me major angst, not to mention the pandemic, and Nov 3rd can’t come soon enough. A 300 mile ride in the desert the other day helped, and we just have to do what gets us through the day with less anxiety. Be well.
Like you, I’m ready for the election to be over. The level of BS across the board has been astounding. Mostly I avoid all of it. I’ll cast my vote and move on.
A 300-mile ride in the desert. Just what the doctor ordered. I fear the closest desert is a couple thousand miles away…
Angst. From that photo you have that and scary covered. Your funks are educational to us all as are all your posts. Me personally, I don’t have enough depth to have angst or, maybe, it’s the drugs from the new knee. I also have built a very high wall between me and the troubles of the world. Not being able to ride for a few months is all the angst I can stand.
That look is why people probably avoid me in public. My hair is long enough now for a ponytail but I still just let it fly. Maybe if I smile a little more…
Your comment about depth made me laugh. Sounds like something my father would have said to me.
I hope your new knee is healing up well and that you’ll soon find yourself back on the road. Like you, we’ve built a high wall though it’s strange how things can still get through.
I try and post something more amusing at some point but thinking about the material I have on hand right now, it’s still pretty dark. One entire collection of scooter images is in black and white!
Nice to hear from you Steve and condolences too. Dark times indeed and it would seem that no matter how much quality time I spent riding, returning to a new refreshed and brighter world has remained a fleeting hope. I will continue to ride and hope as weather permits as I would imagine will you? Monty Pythons “Always look on the bright side of life” remains a popular earworm I return to time and time again these days. Take care, be safe and all the best come November!
Thank you Steve. I appreciate your thoughts.
A brighter world. How did it come to this? I just shake my head and just try to be a good man myself and deal with my defects and inadequacies as best I can. The world will take care of itself if we all take care of ourselves. Or so says the Buddha.
November. Big day ahead.
Steve I wish I could muster words that I knew confidently would lift your spirits. My sincere condolences to begin. The key to happiness may be to concentrate more on a process of small positive achievements every day rather than on a major goal. I am reading Atomic Habits by James Clear and I am honestly finding it quite inspirational. Much of what is making us anxious are the massive attention grabbing things that are swirling around us these days like ominous clouds. There is precious little you and I can do that will affect any of those outcomes. Focusing on the many tiny things that we can change for the better on a daily basis can lead to exponential change. I sincerely hope this helps. I truly believe it can.
I also recommend watching Emily in Paris on Netflix, and Ted Lasso on Apple TV+.
Thank you David for your caring and thoughts. I appreciate them.
I bought “Atomic Habits” a month ago and it contains some powerful thoughts. As I followed the advice to concentrate on small, achievable processes or habits I came up with one that has done wonders for me — pick up the camera and walk out the door. I used to think I had to make detailed plans of action of what I would shoot, what projects I would work on, and I always ended up paralyzed. Now, once I walk out the door with the camera something always happens. It’s much the same as when I get on the scooter or motorcycle and just go.
There do seem to be ominous clouds swirling over me. And like you say, I can’t do anything about them. But I can focus on the things I can affect. Where will it lead? Time will tell.
I”ll check out Emily in Paris. I’m ready for something different.
Be well and have fun on that bright red Vespa!
Ha! I knew we were kindred spirits, but getting inspiration from the same book, that’s something, I have to say.
Carry on, by all means.
Onward!
“Massive attention grabbing things that are swirling around us these days like ominous clouds.” I must say, that is very good writing. Well put.
I agree. Paints a picture.
Steve;
As usual, you beautifully articulate what so many of us feel…across the board.
The weather here in NC is definitely getting cooler, but nice riding days remain. But I haven’t been able to enjoy them since I sold the one motorcycle I had…
Sometimes the fear and dread are overwhelming, just as you describe.
So, for now, my escape from existential angst consists of heading out in my car for a relatively short drive with the radio cranked up, listening to my “playlist”. It works pretty good until I park back at home. Then it all returns.
In the last two years, I think I have read at least 30 books that claim to offer reasoned approaches to anxiety and struggles of the psyche. Some of those books have delved into retirement.
All I can say is that I have found no answers. I am now not sure if there are any.
It is a real treat to hear from you.
Thank you for your kind words about the post. I didn’t feel articulate when I was writing.
Being without something to ride… I’ve thought about that. Sometimes in regard to risk. And sometimes as new aches and pains surface and I wonder if the end is near. And as much as I don’t like the idea of having to give up two-wheeled life, I know that if I’m open to change there will be other wonderful paths to follow. I have to believe that.
When I was young I used to drive my VW Bug everywhere just to look. Not much different than I do with the scooter and motorcycle. That vehicle was an object lesson in simplicity. No music because there were usually no stations in range for the radio. It had a sunroof though which added to the view. Our Honda Fit comes close to a similar experience, mostly because it’s so small. I suspect the day will come when I’m taking in the view from a car again and not a scooter.
Somewhere along the line I lost the desire to read as I once did. I’ve been reading more but not as much as I should. I say should because I always feel good when I’m reading. The last book I read in the category you describe is James Clear’s “Atomic Habits.” I wish I had read it when I first retired.
Answers… they’re out there. For me though, the problem is I don’t often recognize the question!
Stay well Steel.
I just guided a friend of mine to your blog, Lets get do a Tea, Coffee thing Steve, its Time.
Agreed. I assume you have a Vespa by now.
Well, at least the political diatribe should abate after November 3, no matter the outcome, at least the seemingly ceaseless bombardment of political ads should stop and the normal political drama, infighting and total uselessness and waste should resume….hmmm, that doesn’t sound to cheering does it?
All I can say Steve is “Persevere”…. worry about what you can affect, tune out the rest.
After November 3rd. Hopefully soon afterward and not some long, drawn-out court battle. But the pandemic will remain. With winter approaching I feel the country will be dark.
Anyway, I try to be grateful and have faith that things will be better. And like you say, tune out the rest.