Scooter in the Sticks

Exploring life on a Vespa Scooter and Royal Enfield Himalayan motorcycle.

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Inferior Machines

December 30, 2014 by Scooter in the Sticks 13 Comments

Yamaha Vino 125 on a rural road

Almost every rider I’ve ever spoken to embraces the idea that the natural progression when it comes to scooters or motorcycles is from smaller to larger with the exception being old age forcing inferior machines on a person. But I’ve started to wonder if there’s more marketing than nature to that progression with evil forces preying on ego and anxiety to extract more cash.

Such were the thoughts going through my head as I rode my daughter’s Yamaha Vino 125 through the valley this morning through 26F air under a dazzling blue sky.

Yamaha Vino 125 on a gravel road

Riding the Vino is an exercise in simplicity with few technological distractions and seemingly demanding less skill to manage on the road.  During the ride I kept turning this over in my head until I arrived at a conclusion — bigger is better is flawed along with bigger is more challenging.

I’ll agree that a big motorcycle or scooter takes more physical practice and skill to manage than a smaller machine.  And a rider needs to make faster decisions when they’re traveling at high rates of speed.  But relatively speaking, that’s easy stuff to do compared to the mental and emotional challenges of a little machine.

Yamaha Vino 125 on a rural road

Generally, little scooters and motorcycles don’t have a lot in the way of creature comforts.  No heated grips, seats, power windshields, etc.  Just basic transport with exposure to the elements.  This morning was the first cold day I’ve ridden without heated gloves or grips in years.  The little Vino demanded I prepare myself meaning I had thick, expedition mittens on my hands and a recognition in my head that I would be needing to stop periodically to warm my hands.  Just like the old days with my Vespa LX 150.

A smaller machine requires a rider to physically prepare for more direct contact with the elements.  In winter it can be dramatic.  Using heated gear almost feels like cheating.

Guess I’m a big cheater.

Yamaha Vino 125 scooter parked along a road.

The biggest challenge though is mental.  A little scooter requires you go slow, and for many in this culture, going slow is a lost art.  So much so that it generates frustration and anger.  Just query those waiting in traffic or in lines at stores or restaurants.  Going slow is a symptom of failure right?

And symptoms aside, actually moving down the road at 35mph, or up a hill at 20, it can feel as if an eternity will pass before reaching a destination.  I have to force myself to think differently about not burning up miles as if I were in an automobile. The inferior machines can drive you crazy.

And let’s not even talk about ego issues.

I have a lot of respect for people who embark on adventures on little scooters, mopeds or lawn tractors.  Those are tough trips requiring patience, sturdy egos, and measures of humility just not entertained much anymore.

The little Vino scooter performed well on the 35 mile ride I did in the cold.  I learned I’m neither as cold-hardy or patient as I used to be, and that even at slow speeds, a ride can be quite satisfying.

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Other Forms of Travel

December 1, 2014 by Scooter in the Sticks 9 Comments

salt on drivewayHaving taken a few days of vacation time from work provided the potential opportunity to do some more serious scooter riding with the Vespa.  Sloth, weather and bad planning on my part eliminated my options revolving around the Vespa and relegated me to other forms of travel.

Weather interfered on a few mornings as the temperature dipped below freezing and transformed lingering slush and moisture into the kind of early season road ice that can give a scooter rider fits.  Standing in the driveway I could see the remains of salt still at work and with my Heidenau snow tires still sitting in the garage it would not be a great idea to go for a ride.

Even if the snow tires were mounted, the scooter headset is still dismantled as I await some additional parts for the heated grips.

State College, PennsylvaniaSunday morning in State College, Pennsylvania, the view down Allen Street as I make my way to Saint’s Cafe to join fellow riders and photographers Gordon Harkins and Paul Ruby.  Neither rode on this morning either though ice was not an issue with the temperature in the upper 30s.

As the morning unfolded I realized that there are more travel options than I often realize.  And many don’t involve motors or wheels.

Saint's Cafe, State College, PennsylvaniaFinding and establishing rituals is more important to me now than when I was younger and the world was something to consume and discard with each new day something to experience.  I don’t believe my experience was that robust or unique but it was easy to romanticize newness and adventure in ways I don’t now.  The younger me wanted to see every sight on a trip.  The older me wants to revisit the familiar over and over until I understand what I’m seeing.  Can’t say which is the better approach, only that they’re different and where I am now.

Saint’s Cafe has been the place I return to on most Sunday mornings for the past seven or eight years.  I wonder if I’m considered a regular and if I’ve become a character like those on Cheers.  I don’t think many people know my name but they do recognize the yellow riding jacket.

Tea and a Moleskine journalEarl Grey tea and a Moleskine journal — part of another long standing ritual.  The tea has remained consistent though my writing has fluctuated in the past couple years as I’m drawn more and more into the digital bog.  Digital is so alluring and easy that I’ve considered abandoning the pen and paper, film, darkroom and more.  Some lingering voice whispers for me to resist.  Part of the ritual of being at the cafe is to ponder the meaning of those whispers.

Kodak Tri-X film at Saint's CafeGordon returned some of the Kodak Tri-X film I lent him to shoot the Penn State football game.  I bet there were no other photographers along the sidelines shooting film, especially black and white film.  I’m not sure if he’s an enigma or an anachronism.  Either way, seeing that film sitting on the table triggered some powerful desires to pick up my Leica M6 again and make the photographs that so faithfully fulfilled the creative hole that lives in me.  Everything stands ready to do it save for the personal hesitation I shroud in excuses.

Film is not dead.  Merely tired.

Paul Ruby examining printsPaul and Gordon routinely show up with new work while I sink into my chair as a distant observer who remembers what it was like to be a photographer.  The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.  Or maybe just over scheduled.

Gordon brought a lovely set of images he made of our friends and colleagues Stephen Dirado and Frank Armstrong at the opening of their exhibition in Massachusetts titled Regarding Landscape.

I can barely comprehend the work involved to produce another exhibition myself.  It’s been too long.

Greta Righter photoPaul also had a lovely set of images made over Thanksgiving at a friends place in the Catskills.  This print of his girlfriend’s daughter emerged from his backpack along with some others of the location. Paul is persistent in his image making and works hard to stay engaged with the camera, a critical component in being a good photographer.  He was working with an 8×10 Deardorff camera when I first met him and while today he’s fully digital his work sometimes echoes that large format approach.

Snow scene in Glen Spey New York

Paul put together this lovely composite image that for me creates a powerful feeling of that snow filled landscape.  I can’t wait to see a large incarnation in print.

Thinking about photographs and photography I realized that there are other ways to travel besides the physical act of moving through space.  Like Rod Serling often said, “You are traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind. A journey into a wondrous land of imagination. Next stop, the Twilight Zone!”

Perhaps that’s where I’m headed.

Gordon Harkins at Saint's CafeThe signs juxtaposed against Gordon was too much for me to resist.  He would be the first one to say he’s always going the wrong way.  While I don’t agree with the assessment it was a funny scene.

Feet on the floor.For an hour or so each week the three of us exist in close proximity, sharing ideas, problems, stories and lies, all part of a ritual that provides me with a great deal of satisfaction.  Seeing our feet on the floor reminded me of the closeness that’s developed because of our shared interests.

Breckenridge Brewery Christmas AleI still don’t have the scooter put together.  I’ve not shot any film.  I haven’t accomplished much of anything lately.  I did buy some craft beer.

Alcohol is no longer part of my life.  Not even a little due to the medication I take for my ankylosing spondylitis.  My doctor at Johns Hopkins grilled me about perils of even sips of beer or wine and how they can fry my liver.

Right now.  Fast.  Badly.

My luck it would come at a time when the craft brews exploded.  So while I can’t sample any of them I do enjoy looking at the labels and names and putting together little collections for friends and family that can still partake.  This Christmas Ale was one of the graphical items that caught my eye.

So that’s the news from Happy Valley.  Hopefully by the end of the week the scooter will be back on the road and life will be grand…

 

 

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Autumn in the Air

October 29, 2014 by Scooter in the Sticks 7 Comments

Vespa scooter and autumn leavesEverything is moving quickly now — the days, the color change in the leaves, my perception of the passing of time.  I feel autumn in the air but it’s passing fast like clouds in a storm. This morning on the way to work I could not account for the time.  Seems like just yesterday I was sweltering in summer heat and today the leaves are jumping off the trees.  I swear time would slow down if I just rode more often.

Vespa scooter at the Pennsylvania Military MuseumMornings of late have had a strange yellow-orange glow which gives the world a pumpkin colored feeling.  The fragrance of crisp, dead leaves fills the air and stirs memories of family outings and picnics with my parents. Autumn triggers heavy melancholy feelings as my body must know that things are dying, that the process with the leaves is the same for every living thing.

Must be careful not to dwell long in that place.

Vespa scooter and Mt. Nittany

I love the mornings when I get out of bed early enough to ride a lazy course to work, one that allows many stops for thought and pictures.  Mount Nittany hasn’t changed but I have.  Change isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be.

Ag Administration Building at Penn State

The trees outside my office windows (the two on the ground floor-left) are almost finished.  The leaves have moved from verdant green to yellow, orange and red and soon they’ll all succumb to gravity and leaf blowers. The crane lifting new heating and ventilation units onto the roof will be gone soon as well allowing all the scooter and motorcycle riders back to the now cordoned off parking spaces.

Man, I hope this dismal feeling goes away soon.  If I weren’t so tired right now I’d get on the Vespa and try to sweat it out.

 

 

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Remembering to Live

October 7, 2014 by Scooter in the Sticks 6 Comments

An email arrived today with a link to a video that’s a powerful reminder of how unfortunate circumstance can insidiously rob a person of joy and experience.  It might whisper a frightening refrain about safety, or a smug conversation about acting your age, perhaps a response to illness or age that seems too much to bear.  Whatever thief steals through the night of existence, it’s important to at least have our eyes open to the possibility that we can make different choices — some large, some small.

I’ve posted this video several times before.  Each time I watch it my throat tightens, part in anger towards a world that often devalues a person as they wear on in years, and part because I feel the exhilaration of saying “Hell no, I will not go quietly into the night!”.  So for anyone needing a reminder of the power inherent in each of us I share this video.

I hope I’m able to ride at 80, to have the good fortune to be physically and mentally able to embrace a last ride.

Ride safe.

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Riding Joys

September 9, 2014 by Scooter in the Sticks 25 Comments

Vespa GTS 250ie scooter parked in State College, Pennsylvania

Not every ride is in the sticks and regardless of planning or intent you never really know what you’ll discover.  Riding joys can be found anytime, anywhere, and as Allen Funt of Candid Camera used to suggest — “…when you least expect it…”. Today, during an unremarkable ride through remarkably familiar ground, I learned I’m going to be a grandfather.

The same smile I get while riding is still stuck to my face…

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