Scooter in the Sticks

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

Gratitude and Things Stuck Up Your Nose

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She said it would be a momentary discomfort…

array of medicationsA Pile of Gratitude

Other than the minutes I was actually having a heart attack these past few days are the worse I’ve felt in a long, long time. I knew something was different when the nursing staff donned masks and gloves to work on me — both at my family doctor’s office and at the hospital lab.

A nasal virgin, I wasn’t sure what to expect when I saw the long swabs in the technician’s hand.  “You may find your eyes tear a bit” she said, before pushing the first toward my brain.  First came the sense that it shouldn’t be there, then the acknowledgement that she reached the end followed by the simultaneous realization she was still pushing further as discomfort changed to a slight burn to a sharp pain.

“That wasn’t so bad.” she said as she readied the second.  I understood now why she wore a mask — so I wouldn’t recognize her in public.  A series of throat swabs were equally distressing.  The encounter reminded me of conversations with riders who ventured out in the winter not fully understanding what they were about to encounter.  I thought I was getting a blood test.

As much as I could the past few days, mentally straddling the real world and a netherworld, I’ve been thinking of the changes in my life the past few years.  The medications in the photograph represent the sum total of medical science bearing down on me.  Some I take daily to stay alive, some weekly to keep my body from chewing its joints apart, and others specific for the matter at hand.  It’s stunning what they represent — I’m wearing out.  And unlike a Vespa that wears out I can’t trade myself in.  So my doctor and I keep tinkering like old mechanics to keep me running.

I’m grateful for the medical care I can access.  The situation is just another event on the path that I need only accept and figure out what to do next.  As I write my sinuses are just beginning to clear enough that I don’t have to breath solely through my mouth.

Silver Lining to Being Sick — Sort Of

There is a bright side to the sleeping and laying around — there’s been opportunities to dream.  I’ve looked at and read about the new Fujifilm X-Pro2 Body Professional Mirrorless Camera and plotted out an entire system.  And while imagining life with the new Triumph Street Twin motorcycle I found myself in an email conversation with moto-journalist Frank Melling who did a great review of the bike.  He’s got a new book out that I’m planning to buy that recounts his story of motorcycling and journalism.  The book, A Penguin In A Sparrow’s Nest: The Story of a Freelance Motorcycling Journalist looks like a fine read.  I’ll write a bit more about him when I’m out of the desert.

So no riding, just trying to recover before anything bad happens.  I’m grateful to have the chance.

Second Chance

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I’m thankful for a second chance.

Vespa GTS scooter at nightRiding Appreciation

One of the first things I thought about after my heart attack was whether I could ride again.  I worried about my wife and kids, the dogs, friends, work and all the things that make up a life.  In regard to riding I was worried about myself.  Riding the Vespa is not a hobby or recreational outlet.  It’s a critical aspect of maintaining sanity in a crazy world.

I get irritable if I don’t find road time with the scooter.  If pressed, I consider it a spiritual act.  I’m thankful that I have a second chance.

Braved the cold this evening for a Vespa ride to see the new Triumph Bonneville Street Twin motorcycle. Kissell Motorsports, Purple Lizard Maps and Rothrock Coffee sponsored the event.  All I had to do was show up.

Triumph Bonneville Street Twin motorcycleGrowing Gratitude

Watching a father and son (I assume) looking at the bike I thought about how fortunate I am to be standing here witnessing everything going on around me.  I started thinking of all the things I have to be grateful for.

Carolina wrens were singing as I walked through the snow with Junior and Lily in the morning.  It’s a privilege to listen to such fine song.  Having two fine canine companions is a gift.  Being able to walk is a joy.  Looking around at my life I have so much to be thankful for that it’s easy to neglect things — big and small.

My wife Kim continues to shine a light on paths I would not otherwise know.  Friend and family enrich the trip just by being themselves.  I have a roof over my head.  Hell, there are chocolate chip cookies in the cupboard right now.

Waiting.

Infant graddaughter

Who Are You?

My infant granddaughter promises challenge, excitement and joy.  I’m already planning her riding safety training.  Her mother just laughed.

The night draws to a close and I feel my body leaning toward temporary oblivion.  And as the last thoughts fade, surely one of those thoughts will acknowledge the gratitude I feel for the life I’ve been given.

Rain Riding

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Life is not a problem to be solved, but a reality to be experienced.
Soren Kierkegaard

Vespa GTS scooter on winding wet roadWith rain riding, the road is long and often dark.

Especially during the last week.  Rain and heavy overcast has created what can be an oppressive environment for riding both physically and mentally.  Rain riding often asks for a little extra from a rider to get on the road and stay safe while there.

Stopping along the road to make a photograph gives you a chance to examine the pavement you’re riding on.  A few steps, a drag of the sole of a boot along the road surface provides a sense of traction and the limits to work within.

And I’m always looking at the landscape in which my life unfolds.  On some days it can feel like a scene from a movie.

Vespa scooter alongside bicycle pathThe universe provides reminders that it’s not a movie.

Like finding a new bicycle path as a hint that some of my motorized riding could be transitioned to body powered travel in recognition of a healthier way of living.

I looked at my pink mountain bike today and considered riding it for a fleeting moment.

Vespa GTS scooter and farm landscapeThe world is a big place with magic everywhere.

I feel that but know it hasn’t always been the case.  Something changed that has allowed me to see the world differently.  I like to ascribe that change to riding the Vespa but I could just as easily credit my camera which has forced a continual visual engagement.

If pushed I would probably say the advancement of years has made everything more precious.  Looking around I realize how fleeting it all is.  Riding provides a front row seat on the world.  Getting older provides the patience to watch the show.

Round bales in a farm fieldReality is strange.

Riding across the valley south of State College brings a rider through some open, rolling agricultural areas.  The round bales almost seemed like some new form of livestock as they sat in the corn stubble.  The scene feels more like a painting than a photograph.

Vespa scooter and a foggy apple orchardYou can never see everything.

Fog and mist shroud the ridge tops obscuring the view. Imagination fills in the gaps and I’m always imagining Brigadoon.  Funny how stories stick in your head and trigger a desire for something magic to happen.  I have a long list of daydreams.

Vespa GTS scooter at the Pump Station Cafe in Boalsburg, PAThere is rest for the weary.

By the end of the ride, just shy of 50 miles, I was feeling the dampness and chill seep into my body.  Not painful or uncomfortable but enough to allow genuine appreciation of a hot drink in a warm place.  It’s easy to imagine travelers moving through the wilderness 200 years ago by wagon or horse and coming upon an inn at the end of a long day.

And so I sit with my hot tea staring out the window and imagining other lives and times, all because of a little rain riding.

Thanks and Gratitude

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An empty road through a quiet forest engenders thanks and gratitudeFor each person reading these words, for every bot and robot that crawls these pages, for each breath I take as I type this note — thank you.  In remembrance of Thanksgiving Day, some moments of reflection on blessings require from me some thanks and gratitude.  Those words, thanks and gratitude, are simple yet difficult destinations due to neglect or resistance.  Sometimes a forced, mechanical effort in their name help brighten the world and give meaning to the road ahead.

This morning I went for a short ride on a winding road in Rothrock State Forest.  The road goes nowhere and everywhere — the choice is mine and resides between my ears as part of the swirling thoughts, ideas and expectations that make up each moment.

With the Vespa parked along side the road and my wandering thoughts fading I see the road ahead.  I don’t know where I’m going, what I might see around the bend, or how long the ride will be.  All I know right now is I give thanks and gratitude for being on this road.

I’m reminded of a quote by G.K. Chesterton:

“I would maintain that thanks are the highest form of thought; and that gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder.”

Perhaps there is a destination toward which I can travel.

For each of you today, I wish you a Happy Thanksgiving and that you find yourselves in a place of thanks and gratitude.

Poisonous Tradition

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Central Pennsylvania sunset

The end of a busy work week was blessed with a magnificent painting of light and color in the day’s end sky.  It’s hard not to feel grateful to just be alive and breathing in the world when presented with such a scene.

The feeling followed me home like a faithful dog.

And then the crisp fragrance of autumn leaves and clean night air was assaulted by the repugnant stench of woodsmoke.  Not the aromatic scent of apple wood or hickory, dried and cured for crackling action in a fine fire, but the rather more nasty and poisonous spew from too green oak and other loathsome fuels.

A poisonous tradition holds sway here in the heart of Penns Woods among burners and firemakers — so much so that elected officials who’ve long banned the burning of trash and brush and other waste as noxious and unnecessary are unable to address the friendship fire which is equally noxious and arguably less necessary than the others.

Harris Township so far doesn’t have the courage to address what they consider a nuisance to be dealt with by the police rather than by ordinance leaving the poor police department holding the sticky end of the lollipop with no real criteria to assess a “nuisance”.  Talking to one of the township supervisors at election night this past Tuesday about this issue his response was, “People love their fires…”.

Yes they do.

“I have a right to burn a fire!” is a familiar refrain I’ve heard many times expressed with upright patriotic fire.  Less often do I hear “I have a right to breathe clean air!”.

Whose rights win in that argument?  Burn but don’t let your smoke leave your property?  Hold your breathe until the fire goes out?

The argument reminds me of the ongoing argument concerning loud exhaust systems on motorcycles — my right to bolt on loud pipes (and save lives) versus my right to enjoy a little peace and quiet in an increasingly noisy world.

With both situations there seems little intelligent dialogue and instead more self centered, self interested actions based in childish “I want what I want and it’s a free country and don’t tread on me because it’s my land.”  Or something like that.

But perhaps it doesn’t matter.  We’ll all die of something anyways and maybe the particulate ridden cancer swollen smoke won’t trigger enough mutation to cause lung cancer or the asthma won’t be bad enough to kill you.  And the carbon pouring into the air because I want a fireplace or wood burner or friendship fire doesn’t matter because climate change is a hoax much like the Apollo moon landings and Elvis’s death.

The sky is still beautiful.  The air still stinks.