Exploring life on a Vespa, Royal Enfield Himalayan, Honda Trail 125, and a Kawasaki W650
The lyrical autumn scenery has faded into the stark reality that winter is coming. The leaves have fallen and soon they’ll be raked, burned or forgotten as snow falls along with the temperature.
I have this motorcycle now and am wondering what I’ll do with it this winter. Will I keep it in service or put it to sleep until spring. Those questions have been on my mind. All depends on the cold weather riding limits of the BMW K75.
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Ritual Beginning of the DayI lead a monastery life — each day beginning with a ritualistic practice enforced by dogs. In the predawn light first Junior, then Lily begin to stir, first quietly then more insistently reminding of the day’s responsibilities; outside for personal hygiene needs, a few laps around the yard, a dozen or so tennis ball retrievals and then breakfast served al fresco. There is no deviation from this spiritual practice, no vacation, no reprieve from the commitment made to canines. Winter Vespa riding, my own breakfast, nothing comes before them.
Only a dog owner could read this and feel good.
Winter Vespa RidingClearing skies, little wind, scattered sunshine, temperatures rising to the freezing point and bone dry roads made for fine winter Vespa riding. Even without the winter tires on the scooter the frozen ground and gritty snow allowed for a bit of off road experimentation. Mostly though, I was a tourist in a snow covered world.
Like dog ownership, only riders who’ve experienced winter riding will probably appreciate it. To everyone else it’s just a cold, miserable experience. I advise against riding in winter unless you’ve fully considered and embraced risk, management of the risk, expertise, skill, gear and temperament. Just to name a few.
Watch for IceEven the gravel secondary roads were free of snow and ice opening a wide array of possible routes and travel. The most critical challenge on days like this, for me, is to not become complacent. When properly attired and feeling warm and toasty, sun in your eyes, and the roads bare, you can quickly find yourself riding as if it’s summer. It’s not. At any moment, around any turn you can encounter ice. Even a small patch can start you dancing. If you can’t manage your excitement and the throttle best to stay home.
It was a great day for a little winter Vespa riding.
If you really want to know what Middle-earth is based on, it’s my wonder and delight in the earth as it is, particularly the natural earth. — J.R.R. Tolkien
Awakening from a dream only to find another. For a week at the beginning of December each day began shrouded in fog and mist. And on a few sub-freezing days the world was painted with ice crystals while riding in frozen fog.
I understand Tolkien’s wonder and delight at the world. I need not go far to find it myself. The Vespa has transported me to and through many wonders.
These mornings have been the coldest riding so far this fall and for the first time required some extended thought and consideration of the road surface and potential for ice. For successful winter riding I believe a fundamental shift in thought and temperament is essential. I counsel against sub-freezing riding for the simple reason that most riders have a difficult time becoming someone else in winter.
I love being alone in the fog, standing on an empty road lost in fantasy, a prisoner of imagination. I’m living in my world, but just down the road, just out of sight in the fog is another.
Riding in frozen fog is doubly challenging due to limited vision on top of the potential for ice on the road. Riding is different; more controlled and governed. Roads covered in frozen fog aren’t the place to lean aggressively through turns or push the envelop of speed and power. It’s a different kind of riding.
Subdued, ice covered scenes lined each side of the road as I wandered along on the Vespa. Making photographs was, in part, an excuse to test the surface of the road with the sole of my boots. Most of the ride showed little ice on the pavement but since there’s been no salt yet this season I couldn’t count on a dry surface.
A Hollywood production would make a scene like this. Riding along through the morning revealed a continual magical landscape that left me wide-eyed and smiling.
And cold. The time has come to put the Tucano Urbano muffs over the handgrips to keep the wind away from my aging fingers.
How often do you ride and find yourself wishing? Wishing for more time, for one more ride and one more road…
When I find myself wishing I wonder if I’m sensing time slipping by more quickly, or maybe just realizing how fleeting all of these experiences really are. Like fog and frost.
I’ve driven or ridden this stretch of forest road countless times since I first made the journey in my VW Beetle back in 1972. And now I stand there thinking I may never pass this way again. Fear and anxiety live in the fog and mist.
Riding down the mountain toward town I had to stop periodically to warm my hands — additional evidence that I need to get the muffs on.
All I want is to see the world one more time. The fog strips away the noise and confusion leaving the bones of the world. I think I can see where I’m going.
Making photographs in the cold weather calls on me to sacrifice my hands in order to manipulate the tiny buttons and wheels on the digital camera. After all these years you would think I would have solved that problem.
At this moment I decide to ride toward hot tea and warmth and give up the pursuit of the magic landscape.
On the way to the Pump Station in Boalsburg, Pennsylvania I stop to admire round bales in a field. They stand like ancient dolmens on watch for something I can neither know or understand.
Perhaps overwhelmed by the visual part of the ride, the constant scanning for ice, the continual eye movements looking for vehicles fore and aft, I begin to fall slowly back to earth from the creations in my head, unexpectedly exhausted from the ride.
And that is a glimpse of what it’s like for me to ride in frozen fog…
The Vespa starts right up in freezing weather, my brain not so much…
At the beginning of the cold-weather riding season an adjustment is in order — for me at least. I don’t worry much about the Vespa and instead focus on the subtle ways my mind works to avoid the cold. Perhaps it’s merely a form of homeostasis that struggles to preserve comfort. As the years progress and a new season of cold arrives I have to work a little harder to ride the Vespa in freezing weather.
Some might say I’m in denial and that my mind and body is trying to tell me not to ride. Or that I really don’t enjoy being out on the scooter of a crisp, bright morning in bracing air. The resistance I’ve encountered from others to cold-weather riding ranges from philosophical beliefs on the subject bordering on fanaticism to garden variety disbelief or head-shaking at the thought of riding when it’s not warm.
I got up this morning with only a sense that I could ride. As I moved through the morning rituals to prepare to depart for work the clear skies and lack of wind allowed me to slowly move toward a two-wheeled departure. By the time I came back in the house after 30 minutes of dog action I was moving my riding gear toward the cast-iron radiator to begin warming up.
After making the photograph of the scooter with the frosty window I paused to walk out to the road and think about ice. At 27F, despite the dry weather of late, riding would demand an extra measure of observation and care in riding.
Alone with Your ThoughtsA stop on the way to work to visit the chiropractor for some final touch-up work on my back. In the office, thinking about how long it has taken me to recover after this latest lumbar event, I could hear my father saying, “It’s hell to get old boy.”.
Boy. My name forever with my dad. I don’t remember him ever calling me anything different. Even when introducing me. “That’s my boy.”.
Funny what comes into your head when you’re alone.
Rising Above FreezingOn the way to work the temperature quickly climbed above the freezing mark and combined with the bright sun to bamboozle my brain into thinking it was warm. I’ve had a few concerns since my heart attack about how well I would be able to handle cold-weather riding but so far it’s not been an issue. The only thing I’ve had to wrestle with is the usually mental resistance that I generally categorize as laziness. The more I ride in the cold though the hardier I become.
Bring on the winter — I’m ready to ride the Vespa in freezing weather. Big talk for someone sitting in an easy chair in a toasty living room.
The next few days promise some warmer weather so I may see some fellow riders but I won’t hold my breath. The few I’ve spoken with already have Stabil in their gas tanks and are storing their machines in anticipation of spring.
A sad state of affairs. I think…
Struggling to focus my thoughts about a cold morning ride in the central Pennsylvania forest I heard my wife talking out loud about a book she was downloading — The Seasons of the Soul: The Poetic Guidance and Spiritual Wisdom of Hermann Hesse
It was 38F when I woke with a steady wind and forbidding sky made riding the Vespa scooter seem foolish and when it began to snow only the simpleminded would venture forth from the coziness of a warm home. It’s the kind of thinking that the cold season provokes in me — a sacrifice of mental wellbeing for physical comfort. The mental process is indicative of one of the seasons of the soul.
The light over the Ski Patrol office at Tussey Mountain Ski Resort is a sure sign winter is near. Lately it’s been dark when I get ready for work and dark again when leaving the office for home which makes the sun more distant than the season already does.
With my cold weather gear in place and my brain coaxed into place the pilot light of desire bloomed into a hot flame as I moved through the winding forest roads of Rothrock State Forest. And I thought about something I read about how a person might think about how their life is going.
Of the ten messages shared the first stayed with me — you’re alive!
Regardless of what has happened or will happen, being alive is better than the alternative. And it’s a precious gift far too easy to take for granted. Being on the road gives me the space to think about all the moments that should be seen with gratitude rather than those that haven’t happened.
Or weather that’s not warm and cozy.
I’m alive. I’ve survived a serious heart attack and the accumulation of age on my body. I can’t do the things I once was able and some dreams are in the rear view mirror. But still there is mystery and adventure ahead because I don’t know what’s around the bend.
Riding on these narrow little forest roads is fun because I never know what I’ll see — a flock of wild turkeys or a bear, or a glistening sliver of water tracing through a cathedral of hemlock trees. There’s no place I would rather be.
The road took me to my granddaughter Emma and I like to think her reaching toward the camera is really her way of saying, “Grandpa, give me the keys to the Vespa.”
By the time Emma is old enough to ride I’ll be 76 years old. It’s possible I’ll still be around but there’s no predicting what will happen. I’ve still not wrapped my head around the natural cycle of life with my daughter and granddaughter. I understand it but at some level it remains impossible that the world has spun round so many times.
A scene on the way home, one of the many winding rural roads that the scooter can soar along like a bird.
I’ve always felt it important to feel passion for something. It doesn’t really matter what, just something that keeps the mind and body in motion and not surrender to the television or easy chair collecting regrets like so many extra old socks.
The Vespa, my Vespa scooter, is like bacon to my dogs. I want it. I almost drool thinking about it. At 1:16am it seems entirely reasonable to go for a ride into the night just to be on the road. I have no right to have such desire. I have no idea if other riders feel this way. But I know it’s a good thing and keeps the fire of being alive bright regardless of the seasons of the soul I may find myself amidst.
My god, what a great day it’s been…