Friendship Follows Interests: Riding and Photography

Making Friends

A young man I know complains how hard it is to meet people. To make friends. For me, friendships have all developed from common interests. Years ago it was hiking and backpacking. Then photography, and now riding. I’d like to tell that young man he is unlikely to find friends at bars, playing video games, dabbling in crypto, and placing bets with Draft Kings. I won’t offer advice unless he specifically asks for it.

My friend Paul recently gave me a photograph he made of the two of us at a local diner. It immediately struck a chord — that’s my friend Paul, always making photos, always sharing a ride.

Riding Buddies

A Harley Forty-Eight and a Kawasaki W650. An uncommon pairing of motorcycles but one that works for us. Both machines capable of transporting us practically anywhere we have time to spend on the road.

I met Paul at a large format photography workshop he was conducting in the early 1990s. Photography brought us together and along with another guy in attendance the three of us made weekly photo trips for over a decade. Friends.

One day in the spring of 2005 Paul showed up with a brand new Vespa ET4 and the spark to ride began to kindle. A side note — Paul sold that Vespa to my father-in-law. And when he died it came to my wife and I. I still ride it regularly.

No Reason Necessary

A simple text is all that’s needed to ride with a friend: “Thinking of riding to breakfast. Interested?”

This message goes out to a variety of friends. Usually just one at a time. Group riding doesn’t thrill me.

I remember going for Sunday rides as a kid. There was always a thrill when I leaped out of the car to take in a scenic view. The experiences my parents gave me still echo today. On the way to breakfast I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to gaze across Happy Valley. And Paul has a chance to drink some coffee.

The View of Ferguson Valley

The view on a clear day from atop Jack’s Mountain is spectacular. I’ve peered across the valley many times but still can’t pass without stopping. I’m always reminded that living and riding here in central Pennsylvania is a gift. I pray I never take it for granted.

Why Motorcycles are Different

I wouldn’t stop in a car. But always stop on a bike. Surely the difference is more than mechanical. I have to believe my spirit is engaged on a higher plane when riding.

There’s a lot to see from the top of a ridge. Parking the motorcycles for a few minutes is a fine investment.

Breakfast at Last

It was a 53 mile ride to Bing’s Diner for breakfast. On a motorcycle every mile can be a cause for celebration when my head is in the right place. Breakfast was the usual mix of food and conversation.

Eggs, bacon, and potatoes is not the healthiest choice for a heart attack survivor. A meal limited to those riding excursions. Healthy is reserved for home.

The Harley-Davidson Forty-Eight Gas Tank

The peanut tank on Paul’s Harley with its 2.1 gallon capacity provides a relatively short riding range. About 60 to 80 miles per fill-up depending on how we’re riding. So stops for fuel are more common than stops for food.

The Wandering End

On the way home we stopped in Reedsville, Pennsylvania to have a look at what seemed to be a street fair and flea market event. Paul wandered off to look for treasure while I wandered a different direction for ice cream.

I’m grateful to have a friend like Paul. And there are others in my life as well. And all of them a result of a common interest. Some from riding, others from photography. So when you find yourself wondering where you might find new friends, consider that friendship is one of the reasons we ride.