Scooter in the Sticks

Exploring life on a Vespa, Royal Enfield Himalayan, Honda Trail 125, and a Kawasaki W650

The Power of Fog and Riding

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Cows resting in a pasture on a foggy morning.
The world is simpler in the fog.

Powerful Motivator

Fog still has power over me. Awakening at 5:30 AM and catching a glimpse of that magical murk drives the sleep from mind and body and I am ready to ride. Or more precisely, ride so I can document the world I seldom see. The one shrouded in fog and stripped of the noise and clutter of too much stuff.

I was surprised how quickly I could get up, take care of the dogs, and get out the door on the Vespa. The power of fog and riding to motivate and inspire hasn’t faded.

Note to self: I’m not old yet.

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Aging and the Desire to Ride Motorcycles

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A Royal Enfield Himalayan motorcycle parked at a forest vista.
Stopped at Wampler Vista in Rothrock State Forest.

As Old as I Think

The air was clear, the light brilliant as my friend Dave and I started our ride to breakfast. I can’t count how many times I’ve stopped at Wampler to take in the view, thrilled that the only evidence of civilization are motorcycles and the path carved from the side of the mountain. I’m still drawn to this place, visited many times as a simple destination for an evening ride to watch the light change, see a black bear cross the road, or listen to a hawk shriek overhead.

I’ve been speaking with a friend about getting old and what that means. The conversation highlighted the value of curiosity and adventure as a way to keep old age at bay. My body is aging but my mind stays young through motion, thought, and living. I wonder whether I ride to stay young or I feel young because I ride.

Whatever it is, the desire to ride motorcycles remains strong.

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A Tiny Taste of Freedom

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Vespa GTS 250 scooter on a farm lane.
Free in the world on a Vespa scooter.

Do You Taste Freedom When You Ride?

This portrait is different from other portraits made of the Vespa scooter. I made it with a tiny taste of freedom in my mouth.

The word freedom is tossed at everything from promises made by salesman about new cars to politicians proclaiming it with shaking fists. Abstract descriptions of something that has so many different meanings to so many different people that it’s difficult to feel it. How do I know when I’m free?

On this morning, at the moment I made this picture, I could feel the thrill of freedom in my chest. Like a kid released for the summer on that last day of school. For me, it began the moment I stepped out of the DMV with my renewed drivers license indicating I no longer needed to wear glasses when I ride. The surgery for removal of cataracts and subsequent implantation of new lenses correcting my vision to 20/20 gave a tiny taste of freedom then, and on this morning when I pulled on my helmet and didn’t have to legally fiddle with glasses it burst into life.

It was shocking how exciting it felt. So much that I had to temper the emotions so I could pay attention to the road. As I rode a smile acknowledged gone was pressure of glasses to my temples and nose, no ongoing need to raise the visor to reposition the glasses, and no more fogging of glasses on those frigid rides.

A little thing in a complicated world. But I’ll take every bite of this tiny taste of freedom. What about you? When was the last time you had a taste?

Do I Ride to Escape Reality?

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A Vespa GTS 250 scooter parked along a road in a forest.
A few quiet moments for reflection.

Glad I’m Not Young

In a culture obsessed with looking, acting, and being young I’m definitely off course and on a different road. It’s taken some time but I’m comfortable in my skin and with the circumstances of each moment as it comes along. I’m not saying I don’t care about how I look or take care of myself but I’m not on the social rollercoaster to deflect the onslaught of time on my body or try to convince anyone else that I’m not a 71-year-old man. My days aren’t driven by a desire to fill every moment with meaning or to chase an adrenalin or dopamine fix to be satisfied that I am living. I’m not trying to escape reality.

Meandering on a Vespa the the hills and dales of home provide me time to think, reflect, and enjoy the breaths I take without any weight of performance or requirement. Just me walking on the earth feeling in balance with life. And in the particular moment standing in the woods I was glad I’m not young.

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Friends That Ride Motorcycles and Scooters

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A motorcycle rider standing along a rural road with a Royal Enfield Himalayan and Honda Trail 125 motorcycle.
Dom Chang pausing during a ride through the rustic Central Pennsylvania landscape.

Haunted by Ghosts

Without this post becoming a treatise on psychological therapy, I should point out there are broken aspects of my character that having friends that ride helps cure. For years I thought no one liked me. It’s origins likely dwell in very early romantic rejections. Combine it with the isolation and solitude that often accompany being an only child and it’s no wonder those feelings spread far beyond singular events to embody the ideas of not being liked and an irrational fear of being rejected. And what emerges is a pattern of doing things isolated and alone.

Intellectually, I understand it’s not true. But emotionally there’s a 15 year-old-boy running the show.

Riders often speak of riding and wind therapy but seldom are specific. Discovering friendship through riding is a specific result I’ve found beyond the rides themselves. And it was apparent again when my friend Dom Chang visited for a few days as he was traveling from Colorado towards Maine in his RV with his Yamaha TW200 (Yagi) on the front rack.

I’ll share a few of the experiences of having friends that ride.

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