life Archives - Page 9 of 12 - Scooter in the Sticks

Post-Heart Attack Riding

June 21, 2015 by Scooter in the Sticks 15 Comments

It’s been five weeks since an emergency room doctor said to me, “You’re having a heart attack.”

Hearing those words didn’t have a lot of power at that moment because of the pain and agony and I was more interested in actions to make it all go away. There was no thinking of death or damage, just a singular focus on feeling better. But since that night a lot of different thoughts have percolated into consciousness and changed the discussions in my head toward the expected recognition of a brush with death, a new appreciation of mortality, and a heightened sense of time as if I can see my own sand rushing through an hourglass.

Riding to work last week I noticed myself monitoring my body — measuring the ease of breathing, noting any unexplained twinge or riffle in function, reaching to determine any sense of heart rate or rhythm. It lasted moments and was gone as the sky seemed to brighten for an instant or a breath of wind moved over me.

I know people who have been overwhelmed by these assessments and evaluations to the point that their lives are reduced to a quiet waiting for the next cardiac event. It’s certain to come, there’s just no way to know when. So far these trains of thought have been more curiosity than anxiety and haven’t intruded in any real way on the decisions I make.

Or so I tell myself.

I rode in a hurry today on Interstate 99 — 70 mph on a hundred mile there and back again ride to deliver Father’s Day greetings. I did it because I wanted to know if I could. Moving over the road I imagined hours and hours on the superslab crossing county lines and state lines in an imaginary trip to nowhere. And the Vespa kept hitting the rev limiter reminding me we had limits.

In cardiac rehab, so far I’m not hit a rev limiter as they push my heart and body on machines to help me know my limits. It’s part of my post-heart attack riding.

And just like a ride on the Vespa, I’m learning that lessons of the body, mind and spirit are important for the ride — on the road, and through life…

Shreve Stockton and Lessons on Life

June 15, 2015 by Scooter in the Sticks 4 Comments

Most people probably know Shreve Stockton as the creative energy behind The Daily Coyote, a blog about Stockton’s life with an orphaned coyote pup replete with engaging pictures of “Charlie” on a daily basis. She’s also authored two books, and made a cross country trip on her Vespa ET4 scooter which she chronicled on her Vespa Vagabond blog.

Stockton recently gave the commencement address to the College of Natural Sciences at Colorado State University. The video stream shows the entire commencement ceremony but you can scan ahead to 22:11 where her presentation of a life lesson begins. It’s personal and a powerful reminder of how we may make decisions that don’t always work to our benefit. It’s worth hearing by all of us and not just those newly minted graduates.

She talks about pain, the lessons she’s learned in dealing with it, and suggestions on how a person might move forward. Her address is, as she notes, short and sweet.

The address reminded me a bit about another that was equally personal, and powerful — JK Rowling’s 2011 commencement address to Harvard University.

Both are worth a listen, especially if you’ve ever faced personal struggles that caused you to question your path.

The Brief But Magnificent Opportunity

June 7, 2015 by Scooter in the Sticks 31 Comments

Central Pennsylvania riders are blessed with a seemingly endless supply of winding roads — the one in Bald Eagle State Forest.

I thought of my father this morning while riding through the dense green of Bald Eagle State Forest. He would have been 87 today had years of hard work in mines, steel mills and cigarettes not claimed his lungs and life eleven years ago. As a boy he and my mother would take me to places like this on picnics or to just walk — a reflection of my mother growing up in the Alps in a “walking” family.

Riding a Vespa scooter through the empty places in central Pennsylvania affords space to let the mind wander, entertain dreams and fantasies, and face the pressing questions of the moment. And there’s the quiet thrill of flying along on two-wheels, the sense that my spirit is expanding beyond the body and I feel connected to the world. At those moments I’m painfully aware of the brief but magnificent opportunity life really is.

Vespa GTS 250ie along road in Brush Valley, Pennsylvania.

I remain enthralled with the Vespa — form and function. On two lane roads, my route of choice, it performs as well as any motorcycle at legal speeds and can exceed them by 20mph — fast enough for any responsible rider.

My father would never have approved of my riding. All pleadings and schemes to acquire go-karts and mini-bikes, motorcycles and BB guns were repeatedly rejected. Perhaps being an only child played into my parents strategy. His feelings about motorcycles were clear — they were dangerous and unnecessary toys and nothing more. Only fools and people with issues had them.

I do have issues.

Vespa GTS 250ie scooter in Sugar Valley

The road seems long. A camera lens can exaggerate perspective to trick the viewer. The mind can do the same thing as a lens, distort reality. Where I once believed the road is long, now I’m not so sure. I’ve always known that distance isn’t a requirement of a rich ride on the scooter. Same holds true of life. How many miles traveled is less important that the quality of those miles.

I saw many Amish buggies on the road this morning but resisted the urge to make a clever image of that archaic method of transportation with the Vespa. The Amish endure enough peeping from the English.

Lost in on the road, winding through the forest.

A Harley-Davidson motorcycle rumbled past me while I made this picture and I watched them carve through these turns. For the next 12 miles the road twisted and turned through hairpin turns and provided plenty of gravel strewn bends to keep things interesting.

My dad drove like I ride — slow and with few concerns for others on the road save for common courtesy. If he were a rider I like to think he would be on a Vespa and wave to other riders regardless of their riding choice.

Fuel and water stop.

With 70 miles of winding road behind me the scooter needed a drink and so did I. My new diet has kept me out of many of the greasy haunts I would have patronized. Now is fuel, a few glugs of water from a bottle, and a banana or apple. No more hearty bacon breakfast choices.

Vespa GTS 250ie scooter on gravel road.

Who knows where the road will lead. Circumstance and choice guide routes and outcomes. I often don’t really know why I end up at the places I do.

Vespa at the end of the road.

Often little gravel byways and path dry up or are gated closed. The Vespa isn’t something I want to tear through the brush to continue on with an exploration.

My father was neither an explorer or traveler. When he taught me to hunt we were always on familiar territory. I didn’t inherit that trait from him and instead have my mother’s travel instincts — to move on from place to place and not worry about the outcome. It explains many of our travels in Europe without destination or hotel arrangements.

We did just fine.

A stop for water and to munch on a few baked potato chips — the meal of salt lovers…

Some roads feel like tunnels slowly drawing me into something but I’m not sure what. The Vespa was fine but I felt tentative. And that’s ok sometimes.

Sometimes you just need to keep riding until you find what you’re looking for.

Not sure where things will lead. It’s good to have a vantage point to see ahead, if only for a a short distance. So I’ll keep going and see where I end up and take advantage of the brief but magnificent opportunity afforded by life.

Fear of the Dark

May 22, 2015 by Scooter in the Sticks 14 Comments

This evening a friend asked me about leather jackets — the kind you might find in a department store. His son recently got a small motorcycle and he wanted to know if the jacket made him safe. After our discussion of protective riding gear and the difference between a true motorcycle leather jacket and a leather jacket intended for casual dress I could sense fear in his voice — fear for the safety of his son.

Every rider has probably had some conversation about riding, safety and risk with someone who will never be convinced that the activity at best is a fool’s errand but in reality more akin to a death wish. Their fear of the dark is too strong to dissuade.

This evening I took a short ride into town on the Vespa in a light mist, another slow step in my cardiac recovery. Learning to pace myself, respecting my current physical limitations, and not surrendering to any fear of the dark is where I find myself today. Riding provides a wonderful barometer to evaluate progress and location.

Wet roads and dying light are circumstances that must be assessed and managed. They have their own unique challenges and do not bend to my needs or agenda. I bend to them. Looking at the warm pools of light on the pavement, the reflections in the puddles, the soft glow of the evening light, it’s important I don’t lose track of the important matters at hand — that the road surface has far less traction, drivers can’t see me as well, and I can’t see as well either.

Thinking about how well my physical recovery is proceeding it’s important I don’t lose track of what’s important — take my medication without fail, eat healthily, and pay attention to my physical and emotional condition. I can’t get lost in the soft glow of an easy recovery.

Paid a short visit to my granddaughter this afternoon. I’m surprised at the motivation this little person provides to live a different life. I want to see her grow up, walk with her, talk about the world. It’s as if there is a genetic program at work stretching back tens of thousands of years to make sure the young and the old connect.

Somehow, riding my Vespa is intertwined with whatever conversations we’ll have.

The warm weather has given way to a heavy gray sky and a plunge in temperature — a favored riding environment for me. Things look different when the sun is gone. Standing along the road looking across the expanse of green meeting the heavy sky I see only opportunity. Any fear of the dark is supplanted by an expectant dream of adventure ahead.

A portrait of my mother hangs outside of my granddaughter’s bedroom, a charcoal sketch made by one of her friends when she was 18 years old. Her face reminds me of the appreciation of adventure she bestowed on me, the desire to see what’s over the next hill, what lies around the next turn.

I’ve always considered adventure in terms of movement and travel for which the Vespa is a capable partner. Perhaps it was just preparation for another kind of adventure.

Almost home, Vespa along the road, Mount Nittany in the distance shrouded in mist. For me, at its best, riding is a solitary experience. The choices on the road are mine to make as is progress toward a destination. I can’t help but think about how tangled life is amidst a sea of circumstance, desire and dreams.

Oh, the ride is breathtaking…

Inferior Machines

December 30, 2014 by Scooter in the Sticks 13 Comments

Almost every rider I’ve ever spoken to embraces the idea that the natural progression when it comes to scooters or motorcycles is from smaller to larger with the exception being old age forcing inferior machines on a person. But I’ve started to wonder if there’s more marketing than nature to that progression with evil forces preying on ego and anxiety to extract more cash.

Such were the thoughts going through my head as I rode my daughter’s Yamaha Vino 125 through the valley this morning through 26F air under a dazzling blue sky.

Riding the Vino is an exercise in simplicity with few technological distractions and seemingly demanding less skill to manage on the road. During the ride I kept turning this over in my head until I arrived at a conclusion — bigger is better is flawed along with bigger is more challenging.

I’ll agree that a big motorcycle or scooter takes more physical practice and skill to manage than a smaller machine. And a rider needs to make faster decisions when they’re traveling at high rates of speed. But relatively speaking, that’s easy stuff to do compared to the mental and emotional challenges of a little machine.

Generally, little scooters and motorcycles don’t have a lot in the way of creature comforts. No heated grips, seats, power windshields, etc. Just basic transport with exposure to the elements. This morning was the first cold day I’ve ridden without heated gloves or grips in years. The little Vino demanded I prepare myself meaning I had thick, expedition mittens on my hands and a recognition in my head that I would be needing to stop periodically to warm my hands. Just like the old days with my Vespa LX 150.

A smaller machine requires a rider to physically prepare for more direct contact with the elements. In winter it can be dramatic. Using heated gear almost feels like cheating.

Guess I’m a big cheater.

The biggest challenge though is mental. A little scooter requires you go slow, and for many in this culture, going slow is a lost art. So much so that it generates frustration and anger. Just query those waiting in traffic or in lines at stores or restaurants. Going slow is a symptom of failure right?

And symptoms aside, actually moving down the road at 35mph, or up a hill at 20, it can feel as if an eternity will pass before reaching a destination. I have to force myself to think differently about not burning up miles as if I were in an automobile. The inferior machines can drive you crazy.

And let’s not even talk about ego issues.

I have a lot of respect for people who embark on adventures on little scooters, mopeds or lawn tractors. Those are tough trips requiring patience, sturdy egos, and measures of humility just not entertained much anymore.

The little Vino scooter performed well on the 35 mile ride I did in the cold. I learned I’m neither as cold-hardy or patient as I used to be, and that even at slow speeds, a ride can be quite satisfying.

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