The Secret Garage
I can’t be sure if my friend Paul refers to this place as his garage, or his secret garage. Either way, there’s always a bit of mystery here each time I visit. We were going to take a ride a couple weeks ago to breakfast somewhere, the usual dubious plan that’s driven by hunger and an associated desire to ride.
Past visits to the secret garage have seen the place flooded from hard rains, full of cars and motorcycles, or piled high with pallets of old electronic equipment destined for eBay. His Ferrari, a 1975 308 GT4, lives under a blue car cover. I’m never quite sure what goes on here. With his Fuji X100F camera in tow, he dusted off the Piaggio Fly 150 scooter and we got on the road.
Motorcycle Parking at the Family Chill and Grill
Not many restaurants I patronize have designated motorcycle parking. The Family Chill and Grill in Bald Eagle, Pennsylvania has a dozen spaces and a “Motorcycles Welcome” sign. No one pointed to our mopeds or enforced a motorcycles only rule.
Of all meals, breakfast is my favorite. And even more so when riding. Not sure why that is.
Paul Ruby, Rider, Engineer, and Stuff…
There’s no reason to add this photograph to the post. Anyone I encounter when I have a camera is at risk of being photographed and their image possibly finding it’s way in a post. Usually they fit into a story. This one, not so much.
Maybe it’s like scratching a height mark on a door frame; the pictures marking the passage of time. The first time Paul Ruby’s picture appears in a post is over 10 years ago. Not sure how many times between then and now. Not as many times as the Vespa scooter.
Lone Tree in a Pasture
It was a fine day for a ride. Relatively cool temperatures for summer with dramatic skies. Much to see though little interest on my part for making photographs. I’ve been struggling for direction, or perhaps inspiration, for the camera and photography in general. A few project ideas percolate though nothing I feel like sharing right now.
Mostly I want to ride and let my mind calm and catch up with the day.
Take a Ride
What can I say? It’s not an epic ride across the continent. As one reader commented, there’s no rushing river to ford or remote location to ride to, just a chance to take a ride on the Vespa where I find myself today.
Riding helps clear the head, adjust the attitude, release bad energy and allow fresh energy to flow in. It’s not necessary to go fast or far, just take a ride and the magic will happen.
It’s why I ride.
Good morning Steve.
You are right about riding clearing the head. We are moving from West Chester, PA to New Bern, NC and all this boxing in prep for the move is stressful. Thank God I have a Vespa to help me unwind.
That will be a big change. Last time I was in New Bern was to see a friend’s new sailboat. I remember the drive down as being pretty rural near there. I suspect it has gentrified a bit. And maybe the big Marine base has grown. Still, it won’t be like West Chester. The Vespa should enjoy that part of the country.
Break “fast” ride. Years ago had a very good friend (and still do although our mode of transport is different) with whom I rode. He with his immaculate BMW R100 and me with my Goldwing.
We would connect at a mutual location early Sunday morning, as the sun poked its head above the horizon..
If I arrived first munch on an orange, he would be munching on an apple.
if he arrived first. We’d then ride, first person arrival determined the location for mid-morning meal; sometimes two or three hours riding distance. We made a point of “not” venturing to where the local motorcyclists would be on their Sunday rides.
He was one of the first adopters of Aerostich motorcycle outerwear; I always wore full leathers with reflective vest. Was always way too big to even contemplate Aerostich.
In those days there were always small eateries open on Sundays, open after the local house of pagen worship was just ending its morning ritual. We are both agnostic more or less. And it is difficult to mess with scrambled eggs and cheese, fried dead hog of one sort or another, toasted gluten and jam. Always tea, never coffee. Afterwards we would ride home by a different route. No maps or GPS then, we knew where we were going even if the Sunday drivers did not!
I was then living at home with my widowed mother (my long term gay lover having died three years previously) employed in an administrative position in education in Toronto.
He was an elementary school teacher, married, no children and like me two cats at home who ruled the roost.
These days he still rides, an older BMW although not as much. I don’t ride due to health problems and a lack of a proper mount acceptable to my enormous height and size. Nowadays we meet usually on a week day at a mutually acceptable non-mainstream coffee shop, away from the maddening crowds and yes away from the foreign riff-raff that has inundated our very existence.
He drives a top of the line immaculate Swedish Cadillac, I a Honda Ridgeline truck set up for me, with ham radio gear. He and his wife tend to enjoy cruising on the high seas, usually for a traditional musical jazz cruise each year, this year it is the Canary Islands.
I have no desire to be aboard a floating hotel of any size or to travel far from home. The cost of travel health insurance for me can be daunting given my ailments; best to stay close to home or at least in the same province. Which is also why I don’t venture south to the unUnited States, health insurance is too expensive for me.
Enjoy your friends Steve for they shall keep you alive and nurture your now retired from mainstream employment existence.
Your comments remind me of how many great memories are made with riding. Those in the past, and those still being created either from ongoing riding or through conversations and friendships with those met along the way.
Best wishes to you for your health challenges. And for friends who will keep you nurtured and alive.
There is an autoclave on the right and a vauum oven on the the left in the top photo. They have been there for years because they are heavy and probably needing repair. All the items in the garage have a story and some carry a psychic load because they are the albatross in my neckless. The riding is therapeutic to me though and I’m learning to let go.
I keep wondering what’s going to happen to you when you wake one day and realize you’re Ferrari-less…
Suspect that Ferrari is similar to a pleasure craft;
an outline on the road (water) into which Paul has
poured considerable money.
Yes it may be (still is) a pleasure to drive
however there comes a time when letting
go of said item is best for all concerned.
On the “ride being the destination” I recall an old comment…
“If you dont know where your’e goin…any road will get ya there”
I often leave home not knowing which way I’m goin…but still…I’m goin.
I like surprises. I like to ride.
I like to ride. And surprises — that’s just gravy!
Gravy’s not good for yer heart…lol
True. I proceed with caution.
Man, now you call your scooters “mopeds”…how low can you go? Ha ha ha.
I wish we’d have narrow paved roads like this in Ontario.
Ontario is a huge province and I know it quite well. When you encounter a narrow paved (or unpaved) road like this, it’s a private driveway.
I intentionally used that word — mopeds. I hear it so often from so many, including motorcycle riders, that I figured it appropriate for the situation.
Pennsylvania has its shared for private roads and driveways. And a great proliferation of No Trespassing signs too. Part of that has to do with mitigating liability for injury. But I know in some cases it’s about “mine!” Free country I guess. Private property is private property. Not much of a culture of right of passage here like there is in some other countries. Sad. (hah)
Not to be a “Scooter in the Sticks” basher, just a friendly correction. Mopeds have pedals.
I used that word intentionally Robert. It’s applied to scooters in error, as an insult, and used by scooter owners to try and justify parking at bicycle stand and get out of having to get a motorcycle license — “It’s only a moped…”
As far as being a basher — feel free. This is a First Amendment zone. You’re free to express your opinion!
I think that the lone tree in a field photos are my favorite ones. Not really sure why but I like the composition.
I have quite a collection of lone trees. I’ve heard a number of explanations for the attractions. None have rung true. I stick with, “I like the way they look.”
“Just take a ride and the magic will happen…”
So true. And I find it doesn’t matter at all where I go. Even just riding around the neighbourhood does the trick. Beware though, it’s a drug. It can get to the point where you’re not happy UNLESS you’re on your bike. Riding then becomes an escape from life itself. Not good. I’m currently trying to find the happy medium 🙂
I can certainly understand the escape aspect of riding or anything else. In that live the roots of addiction and the need to escape or medicate. I suppose staying aware of what’s going on in your head would help keep the escape positive. And the word escape may not be precise in every situation.
Lot’s to think about!