Coffee and Photographs
It usually begins with a text message or phone call — “Interested in a ride to Inglebean?”
Most of the time, because of conflicts in schedule or circumstance, the answer is no. I assume the day will come when Paul will quit asking the question due to frustration or deciding I just don’t want to ride with him. The truth is, every time he asks if I want to go for a ride my instant, a pre-cognition response is “Yes!” Part of it is that any excuse to ride is welcome, and part being I enjoy riding with him.
There is a joy in riding with others that takes some time for me to describe. Looking back at a ride we did back in the fair weather of early June provides an opportunity to explore the experience.
We stop a lot so I can make photographs. Paul takes the opportunity to sip coffee or espresso he brews at home. There is little talking.
Springtime
After a winter of being isolated and sheltering due to cold and the pandemic, it’s always nice to see the world again firsthand. Riding with someone else provides the opportunity to share a singular experience, at that moment, and later when the conversation turns to what we’ve just witnessed.
The winter wheat is lush and new crops are emerging adding to the feeling that the world has renewed and existence will persist for another season. In winter, I sometimes forget.
Silence on the Road
One of the strange elements I’ve found of riding with others is how little conversation actually takes place. The stops made for photographs are short, usually a few minutes, and because I don’t remove my helmet and the foam earplugs I wear reduce any conversation to a mild kind of yelling.
For a short time, I owned a SENA communication device so Paul and I could talk during a ride. But it was so difficult to pair them that we gave up. And since I wasn’t interested in taking phone calls while riding or listening to music, I got rid of it. And I’m glad I remain untethered.
So where’s the joy of riding with others?
I can only refer to something my wife has shared with me — that sometimes she just likes me near. We don’t have to talk or actively engage each other. Just occupy the same space. Breathe the same air. Perhaps that’s what’s happening when I’m riding with others.
Coffee Man
Like a good addict, Paul never strays far from his fix, carefully planning and packing an amount of the magic elixir that will carry him safely through a ride. As he’s often told me, “This stuff, this Peruvian sludge, it just grabs me by the f–king gonads and tears me apart.”
So I guess I can understand the desire to keep a full Thermos of the stuff at hand.
It was time to move on to the next level of riding camaraderie — lunch.
Bonfatto’s Italian Market and Corner Cafe
For me, whether riding by myself or riding with others, the journey always requires a stop for food.
The main difference is riding alone brings solitary thought and journal writing versus conversation when riding with others. It’s these moments that you begin to know someone. Sitting down to eat and talk is a gift, a luxurious indulgence that pays exceptional dividends to my sanity and sensibility.
One of my favorite things is to spend an hour or two in conversation over breakfast or lunch. If the ongoing pandemic has had a dramatic effect on me, it has been the choice it has forced to eschew anything other than an outdoor meeting. And when I think about riding with others, I know I am drawn to the opportunity for conversation over food.
On this ride we found comfortable outdoor seating to enjoy some time to explore the hopes, dreams, frustrations, and angst that haunts a life.
Conversation Starter
Sometimes I wonder if I underestimate the power of food. As a consumer of it, my tastes are pedestrian and limited. Unlike what I do on the scooter or motorcycle, I do like culinary exploring. I’m convinced I could spend the rest of my life rotating through a small number of foods.
Looking at Paul’s lunch made me wonder if my turkey sub was leaving me out in the cold, bereft of experience, ignorant of one of the joys of life.
Oh well…
Departures
After lunch we went our separate ways; Paul off to run errands and me to head home. My riding with others had come to an end.
Looking at the photograph of Paul standing on the pegs of his KTM390 reminds me of how many times I’ve photographed him doing the same on a wide range of scooters and motorcycles. I’m not sure why he does it. Or why I photograph it.
It didn’t come up in conversation.
Alone Again on the Road
I’ve shared before that time with other people, regardless of how satisfying or enjoyable it might be, drains energy from me. The ride home alone was like being connected to a trickle charger with my emotional batteries slowly being restored. A few stops for no good reason other than to expand the riding day did their magic.
Transition Point
Returning home, the motorcycle parked in the driveway, riding gear removed and stowed away, I have reached the transition point from life in the world to a different one that is entered when I walk through the door.
For a long time, most of my life, in fact, I was not aware of the change that takes place when I move from one reality to the next. Motion and habit hurtled me unaware of the next situation. When I started to ride, the contrast was more apparent, or I was more focused on what was happening, and I saw the change. And that recognition of a transition has made life a little sweeter, richer.
It’s nice to be a little less foolish with life.
I sometimes stand on my Vespa. Not too often. Not for long. I don’t know why.
Perhaps you just want to be closer to god. Or maybe you think the cell reception will be better higher up. *grin*
I think I need to do a little more riding on my Vespa during the winter months–when it is not TOO cold and the sun is shining. Have a great day!
I’ve certainly witnessed a decline in my cold-weather riding. It would be easy to just say it’s the cold but I think something else is happening. Time will tell.
I hope you find time and conditions that support a ride on the scooter. I just finished blowing snow off the driveway so I don’t think I’ll ride today.
Steve – I’ve enjoyed Scooter in the Sticks for years, and love your photos as much as the writing. Really liked the “corn and wheat field” photo in today’s blog. Something a little evocative about the field and fog in a valley. Nice job!!!!
Thank you Dave for the encouraging words Dave. The patterns found in various farm fields coupled with fog and other weather have often caused me to pause on a ride to make a photograph. This particular field has been before my camera many times.
Hope all is well with you.
Steve, once again I’m stuck inside and can’t ride because of the snow.
Thanks once again for sharing your story of the day. It helps the time pass.
I understand that you love riding alone but I believe it’s far from the truth. As soon as you get home you start writing. You draw us into your journey with your story’s. Even though we were not there riding with you we sure feel like we were.
Keep riding, writing and sharing.
I never thought about it like that Billy. Thanks for the comments.
For a brief moment today, after I finished clearing the driveway and the sun was melting the snow I thought I might sneak out for a ride. And then it started to snow again.
So I’ll have to look through my photos from another ride and start writing!
Inglebean good. Bonfatto’s even better, alone or with company.
Absolutely!
I can understand Paul having a thermos of coffee. It’s a nice reason to stop and relax. I also have a Sena but rarely used it since it was hard to hear anything with earplugs. Is it really the beginning of Spring?
Same here regarding earplugs and the SENA. Once it was gone I didn’t have to worry about that bit of technology.
It’s snowing right now. The only hint of spring is the days are getting longer. In the blog post, it was springtime 2021 when that photo was made. I was recalling a ride from early June. That’s how far behind my riding stories have become.
That’s strange. One of the things I love about my Senas is how well they work with earplugs. I just adjust the volume and it’s all good. In fact music sounds way better with earplugs.
I had a SENA 10C Pro, the version the includes a video camera. I could hear calls but music was sort of thin because the 32dB foam earplugs stripped off the high frequencies. Paul had a SENA unit too, but man it was frustrating to pair them. And they would continually drop the pairing and we would have to start over. I just gave up and have not regretted traveling without one. If I need to make a call I can pull over to do that. Or if I miss a call someone can leave me a message. And while riding, I’ve never really wanted to listen to anything but my own head.
We miss our weekly Moto centric breakfast get togethers and occasional ride alongs and hope to get back to them as Omicron and climate allow? Seems to me that solo and accompanied riding compliment one another and one sometimes craves one whilst participating in the other, is this just me? A question(s) I often ask myself while following along in a group is why is it our erstwhile leader so often chooses the path most often taken as opposed to the long and winding road? “Hey, had you turned left there we might have gone to Mark IV Brothers Cafe?” Every soften that same someone leading shows you a road you knew nothing about and it’s been just beneath your nose for years, hmmm! On transitions, I have at times been out on the road for a week or two and heading home really wanting to extend the ride. I turn into the drive with a furrowed brow as I have been preoccupied since crossing the border with all the to do stuff that should be taken care of on the home front. As you so aptly put it, a transition and as I accept the reality I begin to appreciate how fortunate I am and how that contrast between here and there has heightened my journeys.
Your comments could inspire several blog posts Steve. Like you, I’m anxious for some sense of normalcy to return so that a breakfast meeting or lounging with my journal in a cafe feels safe.
I have little experience riding with others. As I sit here thinking about it, I’ve ridden with five other people in the last 15 years. Three of them only once. And never with more than two other riders. And for each ride, I think I’ve been the leader. Mostly because of my propensity to stop to take pictures. Or maybe because I had looked at a map. So any blame for not taking the right road falls on my shoulders.
I’ve been thinking a lot about those long and winding roads. Especially the ones of gravel and dirt or worse. Not ideal for the Vespa. And not an option with the K75. So I’ve decided it’s time to do something about that. The next couple weeks may shine a light on options.
And yes, my ability to recognize how fortunate I am in life, and as a rider, husband, homeowner and many other attributes that are easily hidden if I’m not paying attention is something I am grateful to have learned. The contrast between things is a gift.
With so many dirt and gravel options in our part of the World an appropriate platform is a go to for me … and a more than viable option given how busy and active our hard surface roads have become of late … on weekends in particular … I doubt Itchy Boots has had anything to do with narrowing your options 😉
I enjoy watching the videos on Itchy Boots. It’s like a lot of things, I realize I will never do such things, but I enjoy the vicarious experience. I can’t say that those videos haven’t influenced my thinking of things like weight and performance, but there are other, non-riding influences that are more pronounced that speak to things like simplicity, time, and experience. The machines, there are many choices. And aside from something suited to my needs, the appearance of a motorcycle is important. I’m always thinking about how it will look in a photograph! After all, there are so many ugly choices…
Our roads are generally still lightly traveled save for the main arteries on Penn State Football weekends. I just need to make sure then that I’m going in the opposite direction of the traffic to and from the stadium.
I’m looking at one of Itchy Boot’s early machines. The Hondas from this season and last are just way to flashy/ugly for my taste.
Well that narrows it down to either a 500 twin or a 400 single? I’m going to go with the single. Kind of funky like a Rangefinder Camera.
Ding, ding, ding!
I’ll be checking out a Pine Green Rangefinder camera. Analog, funky looking, simple.
And I’ll be bring coffee on Wednesday. Ooo that’s a nice photo the landscape. I’m sucker for photos with fog and mist. I still have my Sena helmet radio but I don’t use it. For long distance highway 5 Gold Wings ride you’d need it though. The kind of coffee I like best is Sumatran not Peruvian. They are almost on the exact opposite sides of the globe I looked on Google Earth. I like the food at Bonfattos. The sandwiches are nearly gourmet. Oh my gosh your photo made me hungry. I have a friend Terry whose hobby is riding around eating lunch at places and doing Google Maps restaurant reviews. I did that for Mammy’s and Marge’s restaurants. I stand on the pegs to try to add sizzle to your postings. It works too. I’ve laid in the road to check emails and jumped in a field by your scooter. When I die and go to heaven (we don’t die and heaven is right here) the only thing anyone will remember is the photos of me on your blog.
I hope the weather improves for Wednesday. So far the forecast looks ok.
Fog and mist are the stuff of photographic magic. Snow and rain run a close second.
Thanks for adding sizzle to the photos. I always thought you were adding mojo!
“There is a joy in riding with others that takes some time for me to describe. Riding with someone else provides the opportunity to share a singular experience, at that moment, and later when the conversation turns to what we’ve just witnessed.”
Hmmm. Now where did I hear that before…..Didn’t Jim Zeiser say something like that?
“Looking at the photograph of Paul standing on the pegs of his KTM390 reminds me of how many times I’ve photographed him doing the same on a wide range of scooters and motorcycles. I’m not sure why he does it”
Back when I started in my dirt racing days I always had trouble in deep sand. The bike moved around under me on the edge of control squirming around badly. I related this to my Dad, a long time racer and rider. “When you’re seated on the bike all your weight is on your butt. It’s worse if you take your foot off the pegs. Your weight is then centered three feet above the ground. When you stand on the pegs now your weight is centered a foot or less above the ground. Stand on the pegs!!!”
AND…When I was riding to Lake George this past fall I was perfectly comfortable with my seat, windshield and pegs in perfect orientation for me. Jeffery in front of me was riding an FZ-1 Yamaha (a 150 hp sportbike) with a low, sporty windshield and footpegs high and rearward in the boy racer position. After an hour riding on the Thruway Jeffrey was standing on the pegs at 65 mph obviously to stretch his legs and knees folded in the racer position.
Paul may be standing for either of those two reasons.
Gee, I wonder who inspired those thoughts. Still, for me, riding with others probably should be “with another.” No group rides.
Regarding Paul standing on the pegs. The photos I’m making are when the bike is parked and on the side stand. Not while he’s riding. He definitely stands while riding.
OK, I am a little slow replying to this.
As much as I enjoy riding alone, I also concur with this, “riding with others probably should be “with another.” No group rides.” In fact I do my first ride in six months with “another” this weekend when WLeuthold and I meet up in Avon Park at the Jacaranda (www.hoteljac.com) for a couple of days of riding.
I am very excited . I was thrilled when I set on the scooter for a little ride the other day and my new shoulder intuitively placed my hand on the grip. Last time I hurt my shoulder when the bear ran out in front of my on the Cannonball I had to lift the arm to get it on the grip.
You know what they say Ken, slow and steady wins the race. Besides, our choice of riding a Vespa embraces slow which is important if you want to wring the most out of the world around us.
I’m glad you’re going to have the opportunity to adventure a bit will Bill. And congratulations on your surgical recovery. Keep the rubber side down and you head out to Avon Park. And don’t let Bill drag you into some breakneck pace!
Regarding riding with others, it definitely is riding with one other. And maybe two. But generally speaking, I am talking about one other rider. My brain can’t bear the attention required for group rides. They feel more like punishment to me. But I know that’s not the case for many, many riders. And that’s ok. Different strokes and all…
Hey Steve, been lurking on your blog for awhile and just subscribed. The riding with another post really brought back memories of riding with my son when he was 18 until about 22 when he left for the Army. We shared many multi-day rides and one two week trip from Detroit to Glacier and Yellowstone. You described the pleasure of not talking but sharing a space perfectly.
I recall clearly my transition moment, pulling into our hometown, after that trip. Even after 4000 miles in two weeks I didn’t want to stop.
Traveling with someone is a powerful memory builder I think. And doing it on motorcycles might greatly exaggerate that effect. The experiences you had with your son are the sort of precious things we carry through our entire life, waiting for us to pluck them from a shelf in our mind to illuminate a moment. And those silent moments with someone have far more power than many imagine. It’s impossible to experience when someone is buried in their mobile devices.
Thank you for sharing your experience. Best wishes to continuing to create more.