Scooter in the Sticks

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

Non-Riding Days

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I have no fixed formula for deciding when to ride a scooter or motorcycle.  Weather, time, destination and other elements factor into the decision but the mix can be cloudy and inconsistencies develop.  This morning was a perfect example.  Light rain and mild temperatures and I decided to drive.  Safer and easier than riding in snow but I was tired and just not in the mood to put on the gear and deal with the weather.

Any second guessing about the decision were gone by the time I got to town as the rain fell harder.  State College was empty — few people and fewer cars.  Nothing quite as lonely as a college town during the Christmas break.

Last meeting at Saint’s with Gordon this year.  He surprised me by showing up with gelatin silver prints made in his darkroom.  I’m motivated now to finish the repairs to my darkroom sink and produce some prints of my own.  Who knows what kind of photographic work the new year will bring.

Writer-artist wife Kim in her studio.  On rainy days we talk about projects and things we can work on together.  Again, not sure what the new year will bring.

Junior continues to practice the art of guilt, flashing those sad eyes at whoever he can in hopes of inspiring a change in action.

He usually gets what he wants — food, treats, a walk, or a trip up the mountain to run and play ball.  What a life.

As the new year approaches I think I’ll try to be a lot more like a dog…

Alone on the Road

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Thinking about the things that make winter riding so attractive — so few vehicles on the road.  Stir in Thanksgiving Day and I’m all alone.

Didn’t think I would find much traffic on Thanksgiving morning.  With most people already at their destinations and the rest staying warm inside I had the neighborhood to myself.  Mostly.

Cold can be deceptive.  With the sun out it “seemed” to not be so bad but just a few moments with the gloves off left my hands hurting.  A little wind combined with 23F did its work.

State College, Pennsylvania is dead on Thanksgiving morning.  Penn State is closed and everyone is somewhere else.  Would have parked the Vespa in the middle of the crosswalk for a picture except my luck would have the only police car on patrol roll up as I was lining up the shot.

Reminded me of Abbey Road.

Allen Street, the hub of downtown State College was empty.  Reminded me of holidays of my youth when everything, everywhere closed.  God help the person in need of food or fuel.

The road this morning led out of town to Cracker Barrel where I would meet a friend for Thanksgiving breakfast.  His idea.  Last night I suggested Denny’s.  Nothing with a more local flavor was open.

The parking lot at Cracker Barrel appeared to border on the tundra.  Perhaps because I parked beyond the cars to gain this view.  Everything isn’t always as it appears.

Breakfast was ok.  The company much better.  Always nice to get together with friends.  Cracker Barrel had a big fire burning in a huge fireplace.  I could easily have lay down in front of it and gone to sleep.  I’m that kind of guy.

At home, with no fireplace in sight, a hug with Junior would have to suffice.  Kim caught the action.

As much as I like to ride, it’s good, no, it’s great to be home.

Junior the Birthday Boy

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Junior is five years old today.  Kim and I have had the pleasure of sharing life with him for almost four of those years and look forward to many more.  This picture, made on one of our morning walks in the hills near our house, shows Junior resting after miles of running up and down the hillside chasing his beloved tennis ball.  On some days as I make my way up the hill and the view of the valley sweeps away to the west and north,  I feel as if I’m walking through a scene from the Sound of Music.

Life with a good dog…


One many mornings during those walks Junior decides to go for a swim — a newly acquired taste on his part.  Made this video a little over a month ago when he finally decided to go after the tennis ball in the water.  He was still tentative then.  He’s an expert now.  Not sure how Belgian Sheepdogs generally react to water but Junior has become a swimmer.

Happy birthday Junior.  What will it be — Outback Steakhouse or Texas Roadhouse for dinner?  Or just a big bowl of Fromm’s?

The Birthday Boy

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No Vespa, scooter, or motorcycle content here. Sorry.

I had to take a moment to recognize Junior’s second birthday. Since the kids are grown and no grandchildren around yet the dog is all we have to dote on. This morning Junior engaged his usual rituals — yard patrol, walk, eat, tennis ball chasing, neighborhood cat and squirrel inspections. All dog stuff.

Forgive Junior’s scruffy appearance. It mirrors my own and while the two of us do watch Project Runway none of the fashion sensibilities transfer into our lives. Junior has been particularly messy of late from time in the creek, lots of stick and slobber action, and rolling around in a pile of woodchips from a recent tree removal. So he is not up to the show dog standards of his mother McKenna and father Bing. But he does have a good time.

With much work the boy is becoming well socialized. He loves other dogs, even the ones who want to tear him up, but he was shy around people. After almost a year with us he has learned to trust that I won’t let anything bad happen to him. Just this morning we were walking through an automobile crash scene with police, ambulance, several fire trucks and a crowd of people. Junior remained calm in the heel position and when someone asked if they could pet him I gave him the command, “Say hello Junior”, and he plops down at their feet and raises his head towards them for attention. He’s a big love dog.

Junior took a few minutes from his busy schedule to pose for pictures. He has learned the camera won’t hurt him and the more cooperative he is the better things turn out. More than a few people should learn that lesson. Nothing assures a terrible picture more than a conversation beginning with, “Oh, I look terrible in pictures….”.

That’s about it. Junior is passed out after a full day. Sleep comes easy when you mix a pork chop with Pro Plan dog food. And after a good dinner he likes some cold, crisp, water. Unfortunately he prefers it now from the garden hose. So I have to go outside in the garden or on the deck and water the dog.

He has a rough life.

A Lesson from a Dog (and Scooter)

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Junior. Patiently waiting for me to take his picture with my iPhone. Later, at home, I process the image further in the same device with PhotoForge. It reflects the soft and blurred vision experienced shortly after leaving bed, before breakfast, before shower, before really being ready to be in the world.

Patience is his lesson for me. An insistence that I examine my own measure of it. Something I find less of than I would have guessed. I’ve read a dog appears in your life when there is something for you to learn. I’m convinced it’s true. His simple requirements demand little more than my time but his lessons are tough. He forces me to make choices and they bring me face to face with my lack of patience. The lessons are not dissimilar from those taught by the Vespa.

New Year’s Day 2010. Morning. A quiet ride through the snowy countryside not far from home. Roads mostly clear with only patches of slippery surfaces. Unexpected slick spots require patience. To make choices. The road makes demands in the same manor Junior does. Can you accept this now?

I’m long past the simple lessons of patience while riding — those experiences with drivers on autopilot who raise my risk, of bullying horns at a traffic light when I hesitate a moment too long before moving. But alone, left to my own plans and schemes, there lies the challenge today. The Vespa instructs me and so does Junior.

I feel fortunate for two such demanding teachers.