Scooter in the Sticks

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

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.

Snow, Dog, and My Lazy Ass

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I can blame snow for lack of riding. Sort of. But not for not writing anything. Can I? I still have an essay on the Triumph Thunderbird I had a couple weeks ago. It’s almost ready but I can’t cross the goal line.

My hands are cold and I can’t type well. How’s that sound? Lame. I have been riding in the cold. One morning commute saw the temperature at 33 degrees Fahrenheit. I had to drag myself to the garage and put on the gear. My First Gear Kilimanjaro jacket lost it’s zipper so the sealing from the wind is not so good. The electric gloves are working fine. I’m just tired. Not so tired that I didn’t venture out in the recent snow to try and adjust my seasonal clock. I’m stuck in summer mode.

The dog. That’s why I haven’t been writing (or riding) more. I think. He sure does take a lot of energy. Both shoulders are sore from lofting tennis balls for this tireless beast. The Chuckit has helped propel the ball farther but so far my arms feel wrecked. Junior loves chasing those yellow balls.

The other morning I decided to end a ride short and just pulled into the Pump Station to relax and stare out the window. And have a breakfast sandwich. And tea. My body has been drained by too much exercise. I can barely type now. My lazy ass just wants to climb into bed. I suppose that’s a good thing. I can’t survive anymore on 3 or 4 hours sleep.

Gordon and I still get together once a week for the 3 Prints Project. Right now it should be the No Prints Project. I’ve shot some film but have not processed a thing in a month. Progress — I did by new chemicals yesterday. It is nice to sit at Saints and make excuses.

Lots of tree branches came down in the unexpectedly early snowfall. Kim eyed some Curly Willow branches that she wanted. I loaded them on the roof of my truck and crawled home. I should have tied them to the back of the Vespa. Would have made a better picture.

Every morning at 5am Junior stirs and tries to get me moving. He doesn’t flash me this sweet look because it’s still dark but he has other tricks. I made this photo at the park on Friday. He sure loves, I mean loves, chasing tennis balls. It shows in his face.

PHOTO BY PAUL RUBY

My friend Paul made this picture at Barnes and Noble last night. I looked at it on the camera after he shot it and asked him to send it to me. It’s a reminder that I don’t look as burned out as I feel. Maybe my expectations are skewed. Maybe it’s ok to feel drained taking care of a big puppy.

Despite my whining all is well. It’s good to get more exercise and the routine works for me. On Wednesday we begin dog college. Obedience Training. Owner Training. Opportunities to fail and look stupid. Junior is smarter than I am. I am here typing. He is lying at my feet sleeping.

Case closed.