Scooter in the Sticks

Exploring life on a Vespa, Royal Enfield Himalayan, Honda Trail 125, and a Kawasaki W650

Sunlight and Shadows

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Vespa scooter in early morning sun

On the road at the right time of say and the sun has a powerful influence on visibility.  I hate it when I’m blinded by a direct beam from the sun or when it’s suddenly reflected from shiny bumpers, windshields or mirrors, and love it when it sweeps low across the world with a hot power that makes me feel everything is as it should be.  Sunlight and shadows provide details and clues about the world.

The sun also helps mitigate the feeling of cold at this time of year.  Fifty degrees in the sun feels balmy compared to how it works on you under a heavy sky.  And as much as I love the look of the light brought on by harsher weather a bit of sunlight is always welcome.

Vespa scooter at a limestone quarry

Autumn is rushing past and I’ve not attended to any winter riding preparations either for the machine or myself.  A good cleaning and waxing is in order for the Vespa and I need to replace the zipper on my riding jacket if I hope to keep Jack Frost at bay.  Shadows have life in the fall; in the summer there’s just shade but now as the leaves drop the form and structure appear.  Visual cues that the days are growing shorter and winter is approaching.

Vespa scooter and fall leaves

This morning I had decided to make a stop at the local coffee house and get home to take care of a growing list of chores but not before I made a little meandering ride through the valley to watch the greenery give way to the falling of leaves.

Vespa scooter in rural landscape

Standing in this field I found myself wishing I had the view camera with me.  I’ve been feeling the tug to expose sheets of film again, perhaps because I was going through boxes of gelatin silver prints.  I wonder if I always get confused in the fall?

Early morning view of Saint's Cafe in State College, PAEventually I get to Saint’s Cafe in State College, Pennsylvania where a cup of tea will take the chill from by fingers. The same long, articulated shadows are everywhere in the morning, whispering of the decline in sunlight and cold days ahead.  Right now I don’t care at all but the older I get the rougher the winter is to take.  I wonder how long it will be before I don’t want to venture out on two wheels to experience the world first hand…

Seduced by the Morning

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farm field at sunrise

I’m a morning person.  Or at least I used to be.  Eyes still spring open automatically at 6:05am regardless of when they closed.  The mind is ready but the body has begun to resist the transition from horizontal to vertical, from the dream world to the real world.  Riding one morning last week I was reminded how I’m seduced by the morning as I watched the light sweep across the fields as the sun breached the horizon.  Fog and mist glows as the day begins and I am grateful to be a witness.  I know so many people who can’t remember seeing the sunrise, don’t care actually because the bed offers a greater allure.

A road at sunriseNot every Vespa ride unwinds as a quiet, zen-like experience.  Some mornings are unwelcome packages of rush, stress and chaotic thinking allowing mere glimpses of the world.  A quick stop to drink in the day first and forget about placing the scooter in the picture.  A few seconds of freedom before moving on into the noise of the day.

On through the day with a taste of the morning lingering on the lips.  Oh, the joy of riding…

 

Frank Armstrong: Photographer

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Vespa GTS scooter on a rainy morning

On the road early to have breakfast with photographer Frank Armstrong at the Naked Egg Cafe in Pine Grove Mills, Pennsylvania.  Grey mist shrouded the valley with a quiet threat of rain.  For a few moments I considered the seductive ease of getting into the car rather than pull on protective gear to ride.  A moment in the driveway pondering the monochrome sky and the choice was clear.

Frank was on a photographic walkabout starting a couple days in Worcester, Massachusetts.  I became part of a small email group of photographers that in the pre-digital era that included Frank and have been friends since.

Frank Armstrong, photographer at the Naked Egg CafeI associate two words with Frank — photography and Texas.  A camera is never out of reach and the Texan sensibility and storytelling is delivered with at Lone Star state drawl.  This quick picture was made while waiting for an order of dry toast.

Vespa scooter in a car filled parking lot

My chair faced the parking lot during breakfast and I noticed how insignificant the Vespa scooter looks amidst a sea of automobiles — a visual reminder of the need to carefully manage myself on the road and the American love affair with cars.  I predict this will not change in my lifetime and the Vespa will remain alone in the lot.

Frank is criss-crossing Pennsylvania making photographs on his way to Ohio to visit friends.  It’s been awhile since I engaged the kind of serious photography he has been doing for decades.
Gordon Harkins, Paul Ruby and Frank Armstrong at the Naked Egg Cafe

Gordon Harkins, a photography instructor at Penn State, Paul Ruby, a State College photographer, and Frank Armstrong are all members of the Zoners email group.  As much as I look forward to getting together with these guys, I have to say I was feeling glum as I considered the photographic work they are engaged in while my own creative output has spun down to images with my iPhone or point and shoot camera.     I’ve been in a multiple year slump.  Talking with Frank has me thinking it’s time to work again…

Vespa scooter in autumn leaves.

After breakfast everyone went their own way.  One stop on the way home to wonder how the summer slipped past so quickly and to think a bit about my own photographic next steps.  It’s probably time to abandon film and darkroom work and make a commitment to digital photography and printing.  I’ve avoided it for a decade now and the result is I remain frozen in time not making any new work.  Ebay here I come…

Frank’s visit this time and the ones in the past all provided some creative kick-in-the-ass though I suspect he didn’t realize it.  If you have a moment check out Frank Armstrong’s website to look at the complete collection of work.

 

Watching Clouds

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The change in light and leaf vibrate in bone and marrow as the dance between earth and sun moves from summer to autumn.  An evening laying in the grass on a hill, watching the sun drop towards the horizon, I could watch the clouds swell and dissolve at the end of the day. Watching clouds has no use or purpose save for the nourishment it provides the soul.

clouds at sunset

Two jet planes move west towards Pittsburgh, Cleveland, Detroit.  The sun will be gone in minutes, a dying swan in the sky.

contrails

As the seconds pass I sink deeper into the grass and grow more content in witnessing the aerial struggle between light and moisture.

contrails

It can be challenging to lay and do nothing other than inspect the slow but relentless changes as a contrail becomes a cloud.

a single contrail

I have to remind myself to take a few minutes to look skyward.  Too many sunsets and clouds have passed by without recognition.

clouds at sunset

In the final moments before the sun drops too far along the horizon the color palette changes.

contrail at dusk

And finally the light and color fades and only the fall of night remains.  Such a small investment of time to watch a minor miracle and asking myself why I don’t do it more often.

Watching clouds.

Strangeness and Murk

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There’s a full moon overhead and the plaintive sound of a worried dog drifts in the window along with the cool, damp air.  Something is happening as the world resigns itself to the coming of winter. Everywhere there are signs of the strangeness that seems to follow the murk.

Where has the light gone?

Historic Boalsburg absorbs the changing of the season and soon will be looking towards its Victorian celebration of Christmas.  Dead leaves are beginning to pile on the road offering unsuspecting riders a slippery surprise if they’re not careful.

This Vespa parking space is just a couple hundred feet from Ken Hull’s Moto Hang Lounge — home of Pistons and Pints.

Halloween isn’t far off and the artist’s in State College, Pennsylvania seem to be embracing the chaos of the season.  Unfortunately, the model in this painting must have been riding without a helmet, something every rider should think hard about before pressing the starter button lest you look like part of the Halloween landscape.

Junior seems unfazed by the change in the earth’s energy and whiles away his days eating, sleeping and chasing women when he can.  Border Collie’s are fast but so are Belgian Sheepdogs.  Try as she might she just couldn’t open any distance between herself and his ardent pursuit.  Junior’s no dummy though — he’s hedged his bets by carrying a tennis ball on the chase should there be a change of plans.

Somehow, looking at this picture, I keep thinking of Jack Riepe…

Riding in the murk — I have to admit that I love it.  The gray, dark, damp days where the sun struggles to be seen.  Even short rides can turn into gothic novels.  Mount Nittany, an icon of Penn State, remains a fascinating subject to me, not unlike the Vespa itself.  Not sure why, I just keeping running the camera in it’s direction.

Trips to Saint’s Cafe are far more satisfying when the world feels forbidding, when the fading light along forested roads reveal shadows of phantoms and ghosts and others of my twisting imagination.  As Gordon talks with another patron I could not help think of how the place could be a scene from Dark Shadows and at any moment Barnabas Collins would join us for tea.

The delusion flew as I realized Collins is a vampire and he wouldn’t be joining us in the daylight.

Thankfully, I have a good dog to keep me safe and grounded lest the season sweep me deep into the eerie terrain of mystical stories where much seems possible.  And just as it was at 9 or 10, I loved this time of year when spooks and demons became as real as Superman and the Man from U.N.C.L.E.

And now, as then, my trusty dog stayed close to keep the bogeyman at bay…