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Tranquility Interrupted

May 25, 2015 by Scooter in the Sticks 13 Comments

“My Vespa is dead”. That’s the message I got while sitting at the Pump Station awaiting Gordon’s arrival. A quick conversation led us both to believe the battery was dead — a victim of too little riding during the winter despite being tethered to a Battery Tender. Tranquility interrupted because of a dead battery is not the way you want to start your riding day. The call reminded me that I want to think hard about purchasing an emergency battery for the scooter.

I arrived at the scene with the little bag of tricks.

Unlike my older Vespa GTS 250 that requires a common Phillips head screwdriver to expose the battery his bright red 300 calls for a Torx bit. Like a blind squirrel finding an acorn, Gordon had one with him and had already removed the cover so we could jump start the scooter. I’ve jump started mine several times from a car battery.

Out of habit I flicked the kill switch on and off and hit the starter button. The scooter engine turned over and came to life. Gordon had one of those looks you get when you think you’ve done something stupid; I probably had the look of a magician who just pulled a fast one over the audience.

The kill switch contacts could have been dirty or the battery really is on it’s last legs. For now it was enough to have the engine running.

There’s a special camaraderie among scooter and motorcycle riders that does not extend to automobile owners — a willingness to help out when things breakdown on the road. Not just with friends, but with strangers as well.

I followed Gordon home to make sure the scooter functioned ok and to let Lily the Hammer, my wife’s Belgian Sheepdog puppy play with Gordon’s dog for awhile. Success on all counts and tranquility interrupted gave way to a fine day.

The Chang Effect

May 8, 2015 by Scooter in the Sticks 18 Comments

Out of his element, 1500 miles from home, Dom Chang, author of Redleg’s Rides and inveterate motorcyle rider and URAL evangelist pauses to make a photograph in Black Moshannon State Park. Dom stopped to say hello during a trip from Colorado that would eventually take him to Virginia.

It wasn’t the first time we met. Several years ago while at a conference in Denver, I had posted a photograph made from my hotel room of the Denver skyline and a few hours later an email message arrived from Dom saying we needed to meet. A day or so later we were riding in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains.

Throughout a life you meet many people. As the collection of faces grows and interactions merge into an amalgam of words and stories it’s often hard to keep track of them all. Perhaps the human brain in it’s mystical workings does this to protect us from the frightening task of keeping every experience cataloged and clear. Amidst the flow of experience and interactions, of conversations and discussions, a rare event takes place where a person stands apart from the collection, illuminated and magnified by the native gifts they possess and the passion with which they apply them to living.

Dom Chang is one of those people.

Scarlett (the name of the URAL rig) arrived on a trailer hauled across America to explore a few of the backroads of Pennsylvania — a marked departure from rides in the West.

Dom entered my consciousness long before I actually met him. His writing and photography offered a glimpse of the mental workings of another rider who appeared indifferent to the movement of the herd and listened to a drum only he could hear. Looking back at my early musings on his ride stories laid the groundwork for the Chang Effect to take hold.

The Chang Effect is what takes shape as a result of being exposed to his writing, or the response to conversations in person.

I suspect Dom would recoil at any suggestion that he has an effect on anything save for the apparatus of his professional life, the machinations of his personal life, or the tricks he causes his riding machines to perform. But I believe the path on which Mr. Chang walks (or rather rides) is unique and offers lessons for those already questioning their own path and on a close read of his work can sense a kindred spirit. His descriptions of repairing a broken machine in the snow along a highway heading towards Alaska, or winds in the Rockies strong enough that sticking to the roadway might prove difficult stick in my head. What has continued to resonate was the dogged determination reflected in the stories he chooses to share.

Before dinner, a ride was in order. Through the Nittany Valley, over Bald Eagle Ridge and up onto the Allegheny Plateau and Black Moshannon State Park offered a varied view of part of the central Pennsylvania landscape. Had we more time I would have guided Dom northward into the more remote areas of the state. But time and circumstance often limit what we do.

Dom offered more than one hint about me needing a URAL. I’ve almost become immune to such suggestions. But other discussions of riding and life were pointed. One in particular, something consistent with my theory of the Chang Effect, relates to a conversation about retirement and when a person knows it’s time to make the leap. His words have power.

It was dark by the time we left Duffy’s Tavern in Boalsburg, Pennsylvania. In addition to a standout dessert called “Death by Chocolate” I had a great evening talking with Dom and he left me with a lot to think about.

Just a bit of exposure to The Chang Effect.

When the Vespa Won’t Start

December 26, 2014 by Scooter in the Sticks 29 Comments

After weeks of grey, gloomy skies, the return of the sun and the thermometer soaring to 39F could only mean a wonderful opportunity to go for a ride. And with the recent addition of heated grips and Tucano Urbano muffs there would be a cosmic alignment of solar and electric heat to produce the coziest of rides. With an entire day open the last thing on my mind was what to do when the Vespa won’t start.

After weighing geographic options I headed south towards breakfast at the Spruce Creek Bakery. The light was dazzling and the air seemed swept clear of any dense or negative energy. Gazing into the distance I entertained a rush towards the Maryland border and on into Virginia — just because I could and because I haven’t gone for a long ride in awhile.

The Vespa now has Koso heated grips and Tucano muffs installed to keep my hands warm. Usually at this temperature I would have my electric gloves on but instead opted for my LL Bean deerskin field gloves — light, supple, and comfortable. They’re similar to the Aerostich elkskin ropers that I wrecked in the garden.

While it wasn’t that cold (39F) it was obvious that the muffs did a great job offering protection from the wind. The heated grips weren’t warm, they were HOT. So hot that I had to run them on half power. As the weather gets colder I’ll experiment with the need for heavier gloves.

I was also surprised how quickly I adapted to my hands being inside the muffs. No issues at all save for a need to be deliberate with any thumb actions — starter, kill switch, horn, turn signals — since your hands are inside these big, fixed muffs.

The bakery was closed so I continued on towards Sinking Valley and another place to eat. Twenty-six miles from home and the scooter died.

This is as far as I got. Stopped to make a picture inside the underpass, got back on the scooter, started the engine, it ran for a few seconds and it died. I’ve been here before and some will probably say I should have gotten it fixed already. Try again, runs for a second and dies.

My best guess is the fuel pump is failing. When I turn on the ignition I don’t hear the pump running which is a bad sign. It’s done this twice in the past year. Each time I’d wait a minute or so, try again and it would start right up and run all day.

After about a half-hour I decide it’s time to get someone to fetch the scooter.

It’s always something when the Vespa won’t start. Having no cell coverage doesn’t help. At least the sun was shining and the temperature was in the low forties as I started pushing the scooter back towards Spruce Creek, Pennsylvania in hopes of a cell signal. It’s less than a mile.

A half-dozen vehicles stopped to ask if I needed help. Not a single Vespa technician among them. Nice to know that people care about an old man pushing a Vespa along a road.

In the parking lot of the Spruce Creek United Methodist Church I was able to get one bar of AT&T coverage to reach out to my friend Paul. He was available and would bring his truck to haul the dead scooter to Kissell Motorsports and most likely a new fuel pump.

While I waited I watched the fisherman work their way along the Little Juniata River just a few hundred yards from where Spruce Creek dumps its water and fish into the river. This is a popular spot for fly fishing. Not far from here is the club where President Jimmy Carter was a frequent fishing visitor.

Now, on to the dead scooter. I wish it would stay dead because it would be easier to diagnose and fix. As luck (bad) would have it the Vespa started. And more bad luck showed no cell signal again. So off I went with an eye open for Paul’s big blue truck.

About five miles up the road I saw him, we coordinated plans, and headed to Kissell’s to drop on the scooter.

After checking the Vespa in for repairs Craig Kissell showed us a 2012 Moto Guzzi V7 Racer that was just traded. Amazing bit of engineering and I could see Paul wanted it. Craig was ready to make it happen but Paul was too close to a recent Ducati acquisition. The more amazing part of the story was what the owner traded this motorcycle for — a new Vespa Sprint 150.

Go figure.

Anyways, I won’t see the Vespa again until after the new year. Until then I can focus on other projects like getting my darkroom rolling again or clearing the basement so a new gas fired boiler can be installed and the smelly old oil fired one (and the storage tank) can be carted away.

Always things to do, especially when the Vespa won’t start…

Other Forms of Travel

December 1, 2014 by Scooter in the Sticks 9 Comments

Having taken a few days of vacation time from work provided the potential opportunity to do some more serious scooter riding with the Vespa. Sloth, weather and bad planning on my part eliminated my options revolving around the Vespa and relegated me to other forms of travel.

Weather interfered on a few mornings as the temperature dipped below freezing and transformed lingering slush and moisture into the kind of early season road ice that can give a scooter rider fits. Standing in the driveway I could see the remains of salt still at work and with my Heidenau snow tires still sitting in the garage it would not be a great idea to go for a ride.

Even if the snow tires were mounted, the scooter headset is still dismantled as I await some additional parts for the heated grips.

Sunday morning in State College, Pennsylvania, the view down Allen Street as I make my way to Saint’s Cafe to join fellow riders and photographers Gordon Harkins and Paul Ruby. Neither rode on this morning either though ice was not an issue with the temperature in the upper 30s.

As the morning unfolded I realized that there are more travel options than I often realize. And many don’t involve motors or wheels.

Finding and establishing rituals is more important to me now than when I was younger and the world was something to consume and discard with each new day something to experience. I don’t believe my experience was that robust or unique but it was easy to romanticize newness and adventure in ways I don’t now. The younger me wanted to see every sight on a trip. The older me wants to revisit the familiar over and over until I understand what I’m seeing. Can’t say which is the better approach, only that they’re different and where I am now.

Saint’s Cafe has been the place I return to on most Sunday mornings for the past seven or eight years. I wonder if I’m considered a regular and if I’ve become a character like those on Cheers. I don’t think many people know my name but they do recognize the yellow riding jacket.

Earl Grey tea and a Moleskine journal — part of another long standing ritual. The tea has remained consistent though my writing has fluctuated in the past couple years as I’m drawn more and more into the digital bog. Digital is so alluring and easy that I’ve considered abandoning the pen and paper, film, darkroom and more. Some lingering voice whispers for me to resist. Part of the ritual of being at the cafe is to ponder the meaning of those whispers.

Gordon returned some of the Kodak Tri-X film I lent him to shoot the Penn State football game. I bet there were no other photographers along the sidelines shooting film, especially black and white film. I’m not sure if he’s an enigma or an anachronism. Either way, seeing that film sitting on the table triggered some powerful desires to pick up my Leica M6 again and make the photographs that so faithfully fulfilled the creative hole that lives in me. Everything stands ready to do it save for the personal hesitation I shroud in excuses.

Film is not dead. Merely tired.

Paul and Gordon routinely show up with new work while I sink into my chair as a distant observer who remembers what it was like to be a photographer. The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. Or maybe just over scheduled.

Gordon brought a lovely set of images he made of our friends and colleagues Stephen Dirado and Frank Armstrong at the opening of their exhibition in Massachusetts titled Regarding Landscape.

I can barely comprehend the work involved to produce another exhibition myself. It’s been too long.

Paul also had a lovely set of images made over Thanksgiving at a friends place in the Catskills. This print of his girlfriend’s daughter emerged from his backpack along with some others of the location. Paul is persistent in his image making and works hard to stay engaged with the camera, a critical component in being a good photographer. He was working with an 8×10 Deardorff camera when I first met him and while today he’s fully digital his work sometimes echoes that large format approach.

Paul put together this lovely composite image that for me creates a powerful feeling of that snow filled landscape. I can’t wait to see a large incarnation in print.

Thinking about photographs and photography I realized that there are other ways to travel besides the physical act of moving through space. Like Rod Serling often said, “You are traveling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind. A journey into a wondrous land of imagination. Next stop, the Twilight Zone!”

Perhaps that’s where I’m headed.

The signs juxtaposed against Gordon was too much for me to resist. He would be the first one to say he’s always going the wrong way. While I don’t agree with the assessment it was a funny scene.

For an hour or so each week the three of us exist in close proximity, sharing ideas, problems, stories and lies, all part of a ritual that provides me with a great deal of satisfaction. Seeing our feet on the floor reminded me of the closeness that’s developed because of our shared interests.

I still don’t have the scooter put together. I’ve not shot any film. I haven’t accomplished much of anything lately. I did buy some craft beer.

Alcohol is no longer part of my life. Not even a little due to the medication I take for my ankylosing spondylitis. My doctor at Johns Hopkins grilled me about perils of even sips of beer or wine and how they can fry my liver.

Right now. Fast. Badly.

My luck it would come at a time when the craft brews exploded. So while I can’t sample any of them I do enjoy looking at the labels and names and putting together little collections for friends and family that can still partake. This Christmas Ale was one of the graphical items that caught my eye.

So that’s the news from Happy Valley. Hopefully by the end of the week the scooter will be back on the road and life will be grand…

Peace on Earth

November 13, 2014 by Scooter in the Sticks 12 Comments

I saw this Christmas video posted on the Modern Vespa forum this evening and it reminded me of how I wish things were in the world. One hundred years have passed since men waged battles in the trenches of Europe. While wars continue, the spark of human hope and imagination persists that seeks peace on earth and that one day the world will be a better place.

May this video remind you of the dream as well.

UPDATE: After reading the comments on the video I remembered the song “Children’s Crusade” by Sting done in the 1980s. It’s a powerful follow to the above video.

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