Scooter in the Sticks

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

An Ordinary, Mundane Ride

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A 2022 Royal Enfield Himalayan motorcycle on a gravel forest road.
Familiar, frequently traveled road near home.

I’ve Been Here Many Times Before

Expectations can trip me up if I cling to them too strongly. Thinking a ride has to be some sort of exceptional adventure is the sort of thinking that can rob me of opportunities that are anything but an adventure. Those days when I only have an hour to ride can seem not worth the effort to gear and and go. Especially if I am just going to retrace roads that I’ve literally ridden a hundred times before.

Recently I forced myself out of the house and onto the road on the Royal Enfield Himalayan for an, ordinary, mundane ride.

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Riding and the Meaning of Life

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A 2001 Kawasaki W650 motorcycle parked along a highway.
Alone on the road, I don’t often know where my thoughts will lead.

Why We Ride

A fine marketing slogan that swept through the Moto-world a few years ago with the predictable declarations of freedom and escape. I don’t deny those things for they are certainly present, but there is something larger at work as I ride.

On the surface, I rolled the Kawasaki W650 motorcycle out the door to ride to breakfast. Alone, on a hot day, by myself. A simple act with nothing much on my mind as I pulled the choke and thumbed the machine to life.

And almost instantly I was climbing up the Allegheny Front on a road I generally avoid.

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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?