Scooter in the Sticks

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

Vespa on the Road to Memory

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For anyone who rides a scooter or motorcycle there’s probably nothing here you don’t already know.  So turn off the computer, get up, and go for a ride.  But if you’re new to the riding life, or in that luscious world of dreams and fantasy filled with two-wheeled lies and adventure, then maybe you might want to read on.

Vespa GTS scooter along freeway with Allegheny Plateau in the distanceOh, baby, baby, it’s a wild world

Tucked and harnessed safely in an automobile, or warm and cozy at home on the couch with the television on, the world is absolutely under control, predictable and at my back and call.  I am master of my universe.

And it’s all a lie.  Slowly the rules creep in, those quiet expectations of shiny floors, freshly painted walls, lush green lawns and polite behavior. And one morning, quiet without a care in the world, you’ll realize you’re enslaved to things you never agreed to.

There are no absolutes in life save death.  And this scene may blessedly never visit upon you.  For me, as I learned to wake up and pay attention, things didn’t always make sense. The pressure to stay asleep is strong and I need help.  A spouse light years ahead of me on this path is a gift.  The camera helps me pay attention.  A pen and journal demands thought.  Writing on Scooter in the Sticks allows me to abandon silence and to give testimony that there are other paths.

Options.  Choices.

What does this have to do with riding a Vespa?  

Last weekend I was on the road to nowhere, standing along Interstate 99 wondering where I was going and feeling a bit anxious at the uncertainty.  And then, alone for a moment with no rules or expectations I realized what a servant I am to the machinations of the world.  What does this have to do with riding a Vespa?  It provides a platform to escape, if only for a moment, and question everything you believe to be true.

At least for me.  It’s the gift that matters when I think about riding — scooter or motorcycle.  Fun, recreation, relaxation, friendship, adventure — they’re just minor side effects of a bigger experience.

I won’t forget this day.

Vespa GTS scooter along the freewayHow fast does that Vespa scooter go?

Seventy-five miles per hour.  All day long if necessary.  Fast enough for anywhere in America.

South on Interstate 99.  I knew that much.  My brain was scrambling for order.  Go home.  Ride to Virginia.  Visit the in-laws in Altoona.  The cacophony of ideas in my head was breathtaking.  I stopped so I wouldn’t hurt myself from inattention to the road and not any desire to photograph the scooter along the freeway.  It took five minutes of cerebral discord before I felt comfortable riding on.

This never happens in the car.  I’m certain the military-industrial complex under direction of the Trilateral Commission has probably impregnated the cabins with chemicals to suppress thought and ensure a compliant world.

There is no such effect riding a scooter or motorcycle.

Memorial Day in Tyrone, PennsylvaniaMemorial Day in Tyrone, Pennsylvania

Hunger brought me to Tyrone as I left home without breakfast.  The local fire company was raising the red, white and blue in preparation of a parade.  After a momentary pause I left town and the gathering crowd for something more quiet.

Unless you’re a daily commuter or use your scooter or motorcycle for chores, when you get on you will only take with you the demands you place on yourself.  Riding offers choices.Spo

Vespa GTS scooter under a railroad bridgeSpot of Shade

By 10am it was already hot and found me searching for shade more than destination.  Any earlier anxiety regarding the ride was gone now as I fell in step with the rhythm of exploration, choosing the roads and paths that remain invisible from the task oriented automobile.

“I wonder where that goes?” my motto for the day, I believe I could ride forever.

Railroad bridge over LIttle Juniata RiverLittle Juniata River

I’ve always wanted to walk across this bridge and think about it every time I ride by.  That thought never happened once in the car.  All I think about passing through here is getting home.  Point A to point B.

Maybe if I had a Ferrari it would be different.  My friend Paul has a Ferrari.  He seldom takes it out on the road so my guess is it would make no difference.

Vespa scooter along railroad tracksMain Line

Parked at a private crossing of the main railroad line between Philadelphia and Pittsburgh and points west.  It’s down to two tracks now, a sad testament to short-sighted vision of leaders in this country.  I waited for awhile in hopes that a train would pass, thought of putting a penny on the track one last time, but after fifteen minutes the heat pushed me on my way.

Riding a Vespa has revealed an endless opportunity for experience — ones more in line with magical discoveries from childhood than those available to “adults”.

Have you ever put a penny on a railroad track?

Vespa GTS scooter on a winding country roadCountry roads take me home

There’s a spider network of country roads in central Pennsylvania that meander under the trees and along creeks that makes riding almost a guilty pleasure.  It surprises me though how few motorcycles I ever see on these secondary to secondary roads.  Could it be that riders prefer traveling at 55mph and above over the arcadian pleasures on these little roads?

While writing this post (at the Pump Station) a large cadre of motorcycles roared by.  They had either been on PA 45 or US322, both a bore in my opinion for riding a motorcycle.  But you can go fast.  I suppose that counts for something.

Vespa along a highwayThe road goes on forever

I know it doesn’t go forever but what a fantasy.  I have my fingers crossed for a lot more time wandering the world on two-wheels.  The accumulated memories will fuel the days when the scooter no longer leaves the garage.  Riding a Vespa scooter has taught me a lot about myself and life.  But perhaps the most important lesson it it’s ability to generate meaningful memories.  And with no need to engage a transcontinental trip to do it.

I’ll admit to a level of advantage due to location…

Vespa on gravel roadWhat’s a ride without a little gravel

Seems I’m never far from the unpaved road.  I remember the first time I rode my Vespa LX150 in gravel — not the most comforting feeling, especially in the loose stuff.  Over time, with experience, both comfort level and velocity increased.  With so many unpaved roads in Pennsylvania it just seems a shame not to take advantage of their secrets.

Vespa parked in the woods along a streamBrunch with a Vespa scooter

Hunger finally got the best of me and I stopped to eat the sandwich I’d picked up earlier in the day.  Nothing like eating in the shade of hemlocks to the rippling sounds of a creek.  As I write this I continue to wonder at the hundreds of thousands of miles I’ve clocked in an automobile and have no memory of ever doing this.

Have I wasted my life in the cage?

Experienced riders know the answer.  If you’re new or dreaming, you’ll have to work out the answer yourself.  No one can answer for you.

It’s all part of the ride — questioning, experience, memories and more.

Don’t wait.

Road to Crazy

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Man lying on a road along the center lineIt’s Crazy

The word “crazy” is used to describe many situations and is uttered so often for so many occasions that it may have little meaning.  When someone wrote to me saying it “makes me crazy” to see me post a picture of someone lying in the road my first reaction wasn’t about the business on the road, but rather how a photograph can make them “crazy”.  Vexed maybe, perplexed or even angry.  But crazy?

The road to crazy winds through some fuzzy territory. For this post I’m going to define “crazy” as irritated, agitated, wound up, pissed off and generally ready to bite.

Words and pictures don’t make me crazy. They can trigger emotions, thoughts and ideas but alone, in isolation, they don’t make me crazy.

book saleFools and Idiots

Every time I see this photograph it makes me crazy that I didn’t crack open that book, “The Idiot” to see what it was about — lost opportunities haunt me.  Thinking about it now it probably has my picture on page one.

Spend all day reciting words to me and I won’t go crazy.  Butcher the pronunciation of countless terms, add sounds and tone to words, illuminate the most vulgar curse words and you may illicit a yawn.  The words have no power standing alone — for me at least. The idea, malice or cruelty behind a word, that’s a different story. But misuse of a word, call my Vespa a moped — no crazy here.

Actions can make me crazy though.  Saw a guy standing in the park on my way to work, his dog was taking a dump.  His body language indicated “no need to pick that up” and my rear view mirror confirmed the suspicion.  It makes me crazy that people don’t clean up after their dogs.  Crazy is imagining the gathering of said dog logs and mailing them to his home for Valentine’s Day.

Similar crazy reactions emerge in the face of loud motorcycles or leaf blowers that run continuously for more than two hours.  It transforms me and sets me off on an ugly journey.  I hate being on the road to crazy because the whole world seems inhabited by fools and idiots.

Vespa GTS scooter fallen in the snowCrazy Riding

Film director Tim Burton (Pee Wee’s Big Adventure, Beetlejuice, Batman, Edward Scissorhands) has said,
“One person’s craziness is another person’s reality.”  It drives some people crazy that I write about riding the Vespa in the snow.  One particularly noxious exchange on a forum indicated that my craziness is likely responsible for the demise of some riders.

That’s crazy.  If I had power over people I wouldn’t be sending them out riding in the snow.  They would be mailing me cash.

There have been times though were I’ve been picking my way along a snow covered road where I think I heard a voice in my head whisper, “This is crazy”.

That’s crazy.

Vespa GTS scooter along road at sunriseDetour Off the Road to Crazy

In spite of any crazy, nutty reactions or behaviors, mine or someone else’s, riding seems to provide a welcome detour toward a more relaxed and serene journey.  I’ve been riding regularly now for over ten years and don’t often see crazy.  When it does enter my field of view, I know what to do.

Ride!

Introduction to Vespa Riding: Coffee Shops

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Vespa scooter along a rural roadSolitary Experience

Riding a scooter or motorcycle, by nature, leans toward a solitary experience.  A passenger can be included or machines can congregate in groups and technology can be added to provide communication but rider and machine make up the critical whole.  People, and riders, like many forms of animal life, tend to congregate in flocks, herds, swarms and packs.  My riding tilts toward the loner. Any introduction to Vespa riding should point out those two schools of travel.

There is ample information available in print and online regarding the technical skills and requirements for safe operation of scooters and motorcycles so I won’t attempt to add anything here.  But their are unique, though certainly not universal, riding experiences that perhaps warrant attention.

Like the coffee shop experience.

Street scene in State College, PennsylvaniaCoffee Shops in Cities and Towns Across America

I can only speak for Pennsylvania and parts of Maryland and West Virginia.  Others might weigh in on the rest of the country as I illuminate the non-moving part of a ride, the coffee shop experience.  What I refer to is that moment during a ride when you say to yourself, “I’m taking a rest”, and you find yourself sitting in a small establishment dedicated to serving hot, brown liquid along with a small array of food.

Whether one of the nearly 13 thousand Starbucks establishments in the United States or the countless other local shops I’ve found these stops holding more than just a place to eat and drink.  These places can be an adventure in themselves for the observant rider.

Making coffee at Saint's Cafe in State College, PennsylvaniaMaking Coffee

Confession — I don’t drink coffee. Ever.  But they aroma is intoxicating and the myriad processes of refinement and concoction are fascinating and at times border on magical.  I’ve watched mesmerized as a barista creates art amidst a steaming cup of coffee with a flourish of hand and liquid.  It’s a far cry from a waitress showing up with a glass pot of black coffee from a BUNN coffee system.  It’s not better, just different.

And worth noticing as all sorts of traditions and rituals are swept aside as modernized processes take their place.  Maybe coffee shops, the small ones, are a last bastion of human endeavor.

I’m probably exaggerating the point.

Man sitting in coffee shop looking out windowWatching the World

I’ve found coffee shops good places to relax and think.  Unlike the hustling energy in a restaurant a coffee shop allows a person to fade into the background.  Watching this person at Saint’s Cafe I’m reminded of my own need to collect my thoughts.

Frequently.

Riding a Vespa scooter, or a motorcycle demands a heightened level of attention to the road in order to stay safe.  Bringing those skills indoors, especially if you’re making photographs, helps you see what’s going on around you.  I’m always amazed at how much I neglect to notice.

People in a coffee shopConsuming Information

It’s increasingly rare to see someone reading a newspaper in the places I haunt. Information consumption by mobile devices has already and will continue to change the face of the information world.  There’s a price though and as I watched these people I could not help but think the newspaper reader seemed more relaxed.

Probably a bias on my part. If I’m not already addicted to my iPhone I can see it from here.

Who am I kidding.  I feel naked without it.

Carl Ector in Saint's Cafe

Friends and Acquaintances

Like the bar family in the TV show Cheers, the same thing can happen in a coffee shop.  Carl is one of the regulars I’ve come to know from my frequent visits to Saint’s Cafe and appears periodically in photographs I make.

Riding a Vespa scooter or a motorcycle transports a rider through the world.  I often hear it’s all about the ride or the journey but I’ve come to realize the destination can also play an exceptional part of the ride.  For me, a coffee shop is one of those exceptional places.

What places are you and your ride drawn to?

The Walk – Ride Ritual

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Have you ever tried to convince yourself that riding is a physical activity akin to exercise? That the calories and fat from a big breakfast would be burned away by a few hours of serious riding? Maybe you believe in flying saucers too.

Age, reason and the medical community sometimes intervenes suggestions to “engage in a little more exercise”. For me it’s taken the form of an early morning walk right out of bed. I picture myself just like Rocky running on the streets of South Philadelphia. I don’t drink raw eggs though.

A scooter or motorcycle exists outside the realm of normal. So do many of the riders. Those of us who choose to ride for pleasure, transportation, economy or other reasons are decidedly not among the mainstream that believe four-wheeled vehicles the safe and prudent choice. But being an outsider might make it easier to change. Maybe. Such are the thoughts drifting through my helmetless head as I pass by the Zion Lutheran Church.

Exercise isn’t as much fun as riding a Vespa. Or so I thought. With camera in tow as I move through town it is not unlike my riding. I see things, stop, look around and take pictures. Other than a lack of a convenient scooter to serve as model I’ve found the walks to be rewarding. I had to stop for a moment and ponder a store window display and ask why anyone would want a plaster dog when there are so many perfectly good real dogs around.

I passed through the stand of pines again this morning at the Military Museum and tried a picture at another angle. I’ll be back.

By the time I turned towards home it was beginning to get light. Still no rain but that could change suddenly.

The ride to work was dry under gray skies. I stopped a few times to make pictures much in the same manner as I did on my walk. It is a satisfying ritual that takes almost no time and just a little additional effort. I just wish they both counted as exercise.