The Quick Trip
“I’m going to run down to the Pump Station.”
Steve Williams
A common refrain in our house. Up there with “I’m going to take a nap” and “Did you feed the dogs?”
Thankfully, Kim doesn’t ask me to explain what running to the Pump Station Cafe means.
That’s probably because it’s only a half-mile from the house. Often I walk there with a dog, or stop by after making photographs at the Pennsylvania Military Museum. Sometimes I’ll ride down on the Vespa.
It’s a quick, 40 minute, 25-mile trip.
After all, it’s nice to take in the scenery on the way to the Pump Station Cafe.
Vespa Riding
What is it about riding a scooter or motorcycle that bends the fast and direct rules of transportation? Is it the desire to look at the scenery or is it something else?
I certainly appreciate the picturesque landscape in which I am able to ride but I don’t make such meandering detours when I’m in the car. With the car, it’s always the same — the quickest, fastest route from A to B.
Not so while riding. If I can get away with it.
Over and over I find myself wandering the neighborhood as I did as a child on Saturday morning. The Vespa has merely expanded the neighborhood.
Habits and Routines
When I was commuting to work I would often take the road less traveled, extending the ride, cutting across fields and forests to prolong the joy. The same happens now when I ride to the Pump Station. Retirement has stripped away many of the routine opportunities to extend a ride that was afforded by daily commuting. Probably the only time I made a direct route was when it was really cold or I was late for a meeting.
It’s strange with far more time available I seem to have far less available to ride. Poor planning on my part or am I merely a victim of a habit-less existence?
Encountering the Expected Unexpected
I’m never sure who I’ll see or know when I arrive at the Pump Station. Often it’s other riders out on their own journeys of discovery. Sometimes it’s neighbors or old colleagues from work. Those discoveries are sort of like exploring the box of Cracker Jacks looking for the prize. (I hated Cracker Jacks but loved looking for the prize.)
As I approached this morning I saw Paul’s motorcycle in the lot.
Almost Normal
I don’t recall our conversation. I do remember the taste of a fresh croissant and Earl Grey tea. And most of all I recall how normal things felt this past August as the COVID infection rate in our area dropped to almost nothing. The world had changed and then it didn’t. But for a brief moment, everything relaxed. It was like being in the eye of a hurricane.
Since then I’ve grown weary of the world. Or more accurately, what I must do to live in it. Any thoughts of relaxing my own behaviors in regard to a virus and personal health are continually dashed by my team of physicians who pointedly remind me of the dramatic suppression of my immune system by drugs. I have to worry about the flu, a cold, and a lot of things people with normally functioning immune systems don’t.
While they can’t say with certainty I would suffer tragically from a COVID infection they remind me of how I have suffered no respiratory illness for over two years now largely because of a few small changes in being around people and a personal orthodoxy regarding wearing a mask.
I can’t deny their logic. I’ve been transformed from an annual bout of pneumonia, flu, colds, and ravaging sinus infections. Largely because of a mask and staying away from gatherings of strangers. Still, I’ve not fully accepted this as a new way of life even though I have been delivered a HUGE gift of personal health.
I’ve diverged again from thoughts of riding to the Pump Station on the Vespa. A ride last August is a different ride as I remember it today. Is there a lesson?
Probably. Even though I may not like it.
Mainly, I’ve learned to quit whining about things that I encounter in life. Especially those I don’t like. Doesn’t matter the subject. Just accept reality and move on.
And I’ve learned that I am responsible for my choices. Me. And no one else. It makes no difference if it’s about the asshole on the highway who just cut me off, a plunge in the stock market, or my doctor telling me to continue staying away from people and wear a better mask. I’m the one who has to make a choice of what I’ll do next. And at 67 years old, I hope I’m not as stupid as I was when I was an indestructible youth.
But perhaps the most important lesson is one of gratitude — to have the opportunity to make choices as a living, breathing man walking (and riding) on this earth.
Damn, what a fine ride to the Pump Station.
With these lovely summery photos, you’re just trying to make me forget that another foot of snow is about to be dumped on me, aren’t you? You’re a cruel man, Steve Williams. 🙂
I have more summery photos to torture you with Tom. But the next post will contain more than enough reminders of the cold we’re currently experiencing. As I type this comment, my fingers have not yet fully thawed from a ride near the freezing mark.
How strange you should mention this toady. Only his morning I said to Carol my wife that I could not actually remember -short of looking in my nerdy journal, which is far too much trouble – when I actually last rode Bertie (sorry “my Vespa” ). In fact I can only recall putting the battery on catch up charge, as there seems to have been far too much to do in my existence which does seem a lot slower nowadays. Still the snowdrops are out here in Lincolnshire and I have oiled my leather jacket so I suppose that is “almost ready for the off”. Just a few more degrees Celsius…
Regards Chris
PS I always read your posts just after my lunch, which accounts for the Early Reply .
Toady — the name of one of my favorite songs by the Jefferson Airplane!
Toady
HAH!
Memories can get flexible, fade, and sometimes bear little resemblance to what actually happened. At least for me. Journals and the blog help a lot when I’m trying to remember things.
I feel we’re almost ready to hit the early riding season here. A few more weeks and I think we’ll see temperatures more regularly in the 40s (Fahrenheit).
If you read this just right after lunch you’ll probably need a nap!
Jefferson Airplane did a pretty good job on Wooden Ships, I still really like the Volunteers album. I have not ridden a scooter in over 2 months! Ouch!
I need to spend more time with Jefferson Airplane. Their version of Wooden Ships is more emotional than the CSN version. Both are beautiful. Each touches a different place for me. Your comment had me wondering who wrote the song. A little research showed that Crosby, Stills, and Kantner did while on Crosby’s boat “Mayan.” The whole story was interesting.
I’ve been riding more than you Mike, but still not with the easy abandon that I can in slightly warmer weather. The 10 day forecast here indicates I still won’t see any of that slightly warmer weather I would like.
Probably…today…
Steve, thanks again for your thoughts and pictures. I think we’re all longing for warmer days. Look forward to your stories inspired by rides on your new Himalayan!
I spend far too much time looking at weather forecasts…
The next post will likely have a glance at the Himalayan.
Nice stopping point at the Pump Station. Happy that you have such a place in your neighborhood or not too far away from home.
Yes, we’re lucky to have several places nearby. Now if I can get to the point where I feel safe among my fellow man I can take advantage of them.
I think I had my 1953 Raleigh restored because I remember the joy of riding that bicycle helped lift to new highs. It has stayed with me in the 69 years since. The Raleigh’s worn pedal blocks are evidence of the many miles I covered in western Pennsylvania
Time flies when you’re having fun Richard. Worn pedals, like worn shoes, indicate a history of action!
Great reflections, as always. I still don’t get around to that style of meandering, but does remind me of my infrequent trips to a rural cheese factory for awesome fresh string cheese. Its an hour round trip through lovely farmland with the option of a unique twisty ride though a State forest. Well, maybe a 90 minute ride….
Sometimes I think every rider has a go-to ride for a little escape. Sounds as if the rural cheese factory might be yours. I have several of my own to choose from. I just need slightly warmer weather.
I see me and the Kipps over there. That old Suzuki doesn’t look half bad. I’m glad I don’t feel the need to keep every motorcycle I buy, they get in the way and too much stuff has a psychological weight/cost. I only have three motorcycles now. KTM, Vespa and what’s the other one oh Bonneville. I might just ride a motorcycle to your house today to see if you want to ride down to the Pump Station with your new wheels.
I suspect if you had a two-car garage you would have more motorcycles!
I messaged you earlier that I wasn’t going to ride. And then suddenly I decided to take a short spin around the neighborhood. It’s still kind of messy on the road.
Steve, I especially appreciated “It’s a quick, 40 minute, 25-mile trip” and think it’s great that Kim knows what that jaunt entails.
Kim’s wise to my tricks.
My last ride on anything was the week before Christmas for a hair cut. I used the latest Chinese acquisition, which still hasn’t acquired break in miles yet. I keep hoping that a little rain precedes a warm spell to flush the salt away and allow my steeds to hit the streets. Weekly start up sessions are not as satisfying as a run through the country side.
I couldn’t wait Jim. Man there was a lot of salt and mush out still.
I remember many 30 mile trips to go 5. My regular commute comes to mind. It doesn’t happen these days.
Now that you and your wife are full time wanderers you no longer need worry about extending a trip!