Scooter in the Sticks

Exploring life on a Vespa Scooter and Royal Enfield Himalayan motorcycle.

Craving a Vespa Ride

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Vespa GTS along a rural road.
Craving a Vespa ride brings me to places like this.

The Desire to Ride

For many riders the desire to ride is a familiar feeling. One that can surface without warning or expectation and gently interfere with thoughts and actions. And sometimes, those feelings can be so overwhelming that they can lead me to drop what I’m doing and go for a ride. And for me it most often involves my scooter.

Craving a Vespa ride happens more often than I sometimes realize. I’ve become more adept at suppressing those feelings. Perhaps an adult male skill that’s not the most useful, healthy, or honest approach in life.

But here I am. On the road. Admiring the scooter and landscape. And shooting footage for another YouTube video.

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Channeling My Father

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Pile of old copper water pipes.
Some of the old copper supply lines that I removed to fix “a few pinhole leaks.”

Thank You Father

When I was five-years-old I watched my father and a couple of his friends rip half the roof off the house and add an addition that would double the size of the house. In high school, I helped him renovate a house and in college we build a house together followed by a 24′ by 24′ workshop.

My father had a great influence on me and provided a solid foundation in the DIY world even though I’ve slowly moved away from them over the past 20 years. With those experiences stored away in my brain, I figured I could channel my father to repair a few pinhole leaks that appeared in the 78-year-old copper pipes in the basement of our house.

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Uncertain Rider

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Steve Williams with Vespa GTS scooterAs much as I love to ride there are days that I don’t. The reasons vary from sloth to injury with a myriad of rationalizations, excuses and justifications in between. Over time I’ve learned nothing is as simple as it appears and whatever is going on in my head is always worth inspecting even if it makes me an uncertain rider.

Independence

I was raised to be independent, take care of things, not complain, and move on. Attendant to that way of functioning in the world is what I call the “know it all” personality that reduces everything to a simple formula with little attention to the details that make every person and experience unique. It may be what makes slogans so seductive – everything from “Just say no to drugs” to “Just do it”. I certainly lean toward the easy solution that avoids the troublesome and messy landscape of emotion. In that place I can become an uncertain rider.

Yesterday morning my head was clogged with concerns and worries creating a swirl of anxious thoughts about everything from the manner in which I would repair a section of drywall in the bathroom to figuring out how to tackle production of 60 online courses when I get back to work. With my brain switching quickly from one thought to the next it was difficult to focus mental or physical energy on anything including riding.

Not Riding

Every rider has reasons not to ride. Those reasons provide the framework to evaluate situations in which our skills, expertise and comfort fit. It’s different for everyone – a framework that keeps one rider smiling may terrify another. Finding personal limits is scary because it may mean you’re different than everyone else. In some riding circles being different is not a comfortable position. The same often applies to life – I think of my return from Germany in 1964 with a brand new pair of suede Lederhosen thinking they were the coolest thing ever. Then I wore them to my 5th grade class…

Self Portraits

I stopped on the way to the Pump Station Cafe to make this self-portrait because I knew something wasn’t quite right and there are times when turning the camera my direction helps diagnose problems. (A gift from long ago via Ralph Hattersley’s book Discover Your Self Through Photography).

So here I am – what do I see?

First, it’s cold outside and I’m wearing jeans instead of my armored overpants. Diverging from wearing all the gear all the time always means something. In this case I didn’t really want to ride and wasn’t sure why I even got on the scooter in the first place.

Second, I’m standing in the water. I chose the spot to park the Vespa based on the photographic possibilities offered by reflections in the water. Not paying attention led me to stand in the water. Not paying attention while riding, especially on a cold, wet day can lead to poor choices.

On Down the Road

On this day I moved on to the Pump Station to write in my journal, eavesdrop on conversations, and slowly sort out my thoughts. An hour later I was at home doing chores. An hour after that I was back on the Vespa with all the gear, riding into the gloom, no longer an uncertain rider.

Politics and Riding

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Vespa GTS 250ie scooter on a gravel roadAutumn is my favorite riding season.  It’s quietly exciting visually as the forest changes from green to gold and then bares it’s naked bones.  The falling temperatures push the body just enough to keep you awake and the frequent gray gloom overhead allows the mind to imagine a challenging world.

At least that’s how the road unfolded as I moved along Tussey Ridge.  And for a brief time I thought about politics and the world in which I ride.  They (whoever they are) say all politics are local and after some consideration I think I can agree.  The issue, regardless of what it is, always has a local aspect, even if it’s a world leader considering their personal legacy as they negotiate an international treaty.

lone oak tree in a farm field in autumnWhen I consider politics I find myself always on the outside looking in.  Even when I could be inside.  Years ago I saw a lot of how the sausage was made while working on a congressional campaign as a photographer.  I remember the day I was asked to photograph the opponent looking bored or “stupid”.  At a press conference the assembled photographers would fire their motor-drives at critical moments of gesticulation.

My camera would be silent, at least until a nose was wiped or a head was scratched.  The shutter echoed across the hall and the other photographers would turn my way.  After two or three shots the opponent’s campaign manager was on to me.  The politics were local.  And dishonest.  When the campaign ended I retired from politics and took up what would become a more honest path as an observer.

Looking at the tree in the field standing by itself, quiet, unconcerned, waiting for something to happen I couldn’t help but think of how much of my life unfolds the same way.  Just waiting and watching.

That may explain the lure photography has had for me all these years.

Vespa GTS 250ie scooter on gravel roadI’m not an activist or advocate — even about riding.  The recent Poisonous Tradition post was a natural off shoot of the storytelling I do on Scooter in the Sticks — sharing what I see, feel and experience while riding.

The temperature hovered at 50F while I tracked along a reasonably well mannered gravel road.  The high point of flaming foliage is behind us now but a slash of color still dazzled the otherwise monochromatic landscape.  And my back was pleasantly cooperative as well.

Vespa GTS 250ie scooter along Linden Hall RoadConsidering my aversion to politics it’s surprising I recently joined the American Motorcyclist Association, a group that supports a number of positions that I find perplexing but I was really just interested in the roadside coverage.

While stopped to make a few pictures I met Ace, a fellow who owns a little farm along the creek.

Portrait of Ace, master mechanicAce walked up to the road to see what I was doing and check if I needed help.  We talked awhile about cows and trout and the change in ownership of farms along the Cedar Run branch of Spring Creek.  Ace spotted the Vespa right off but was surprised it actually was a Vespa thinking they quit selling them in the United States decades ago.  After a quick inspection the conversation moved to Fords, and eventually to a shared experience in wrenching on a 1962 Ford Falcon.  He and I both had experience rebuilding the three speed transmission (without synchromesh for first gear) several times. Turns out he’s a master mechanic.

I thought about asking him a few political questions; his thoughts on the health risks associated with woodsmoke, whether loud pipes actually save lives, or whether our freedom was at risk from a growing nanny state.

The observer in me was curious but none of it mattered at the moment.  Ace’s brother came looking for him and I had lunch on my mind.

It doesn’t take much to dissuade me from political discussions.  And even less from religious ones.

Just a little shake of my head and like an Etch-a-Sketch I’m ready for another ride…

Rest, Relaxation and the End of a Vacation

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Unshaven, rested, relaxed.  That’s what a week of vacation can do for a person.  My friend Gordon made the photograph, my wife Kim said I looked relaxed, and I know I’m rested and unshaven.  The past week has been an exercise in no plans, no schedule, no goals, no nothing.  I like to think I’m a creature of habit but it’s more likely I’m a creature of circumstance.  With no schedule to adhere to I’ve stayed up ’til dawn, slept past noon, hung out in coffee shops and generally watched the world go by.

And did some Vespa riding.

On days I didn’t sleep past noon I was out in the cold with the dog or on the Vespa.  A week of that was all it took to acclimate to the frigid weather.  Now everything from 20F and higher feels comfortable.  Or at least tolerable.

This image was made on Sunday morning at sunrise with Junior in tow.  A dog offers fine examples of how to embrace life at it’s simplest level.

Junior pausing briefly for me to make a portrait.  Cold enough outside for his breath to freeze over the hair on his neck.  He just walked through the living room, looked at me, and went upstairs to bed. “He know’s the day’s over,” said Kim.  “No more walks, treats or food.  Nothing left but to go to sleep.”

I’m almost in the same place.

It’s been a cold week with snow and ice and have helped thicken my riding blood.  This morning Mr. Pumpkin looked particularly annoyed by the 18F temperature reading as I got ready to ride into town to meet my photography compatriots at Saint’s Cafe.  Neither the Vespa or I uttered a complaint.

Morning has more attraction for me than any other time of day — visually and mentally.  I awake quickly with no need for coffee or tea.  Seeing the sun rise and the warm beams of light lick through the trees continues to cause the heart to beat faster.

Allen Street is still asleep at 8:30 on a Sunday morning.  Plenty of parking and no traffic to contend with is fine by me.

Saint’s Cafe in State College, Pennsylvania.  The holiday decorations have already gone up.  The place seems personal, friendly and like home.

Simple pleasures during the vacation.  Hot chocolate and a few moments alone with my thoughts.

The earlybirds.  In thirty minutes the place will start to fill up and the hustle and bustle will become more pronounced.  Being away from that pace for just a week makes the change seem dramatic.

During the past week the Vespa and I have ridden the familiar tracks and explored some new ones.  The snow and ice have offered an opportunity to sharpen my skills and mind and the time away from work has allowed my batteries to recharge so I can jump head first into some big projects.

And the rides have given me a chance to catch up with old friends if only for a few moments. But mostly I just laid about in decadent sloth.  So much for plans to organize my digital photos or straightening up the garage.  It was far more satisfying to nap, eat, ride play with the dog, hang out with Kim and anything other than be a responsible adult.

Damn, I guess I need to go upstairs and shave now.