This past weekend I was on the road, a winding trail through the world and my head.
Sitting in the garden writing this blog post I see a young couple walking down the road. I can see them talking, their gait is relaxed, their bodies close, and I wonder about them. Why are they together? Why are they walking past now? Why do they seem so happy? Someone once told me that these sorts of why questions are God questions — complicated, difficult and ultimately beyond our feeble human mind’s ability to adequately answer.
For the past few days I’ve been occupied by why questions, especially as they relate to riding and life.
Why am I on the road?
I’ve thought about this question many times. I know exactly where the road leads and I’ve been on it before. And yet I’ve never really been on it and have no idea what’s ahead. My riding is filled with paths and trails through field and forest — literally and figuratively.
The sun rises swiftly and for a short time there is a cosmic quality to the world — a reminder that we are members of a collection of planets spinning around a star and causing me to ask, “Why am I here?”
It’s easy to dismiss the silent conversation as the bored noise of someone with too little to really worry about. Or worse.
Paul Ruby is a master at finding odd places and things. Part of me was intrigued by this eating establishment and a larger part was grateful it was closed.
I’ve know Paul for twenty years having first met him at a large format photography workshop he was teaching. Since then he has led me through a wide range of ideas and places. He, among others, influenced my return to graduate school in art and my purchase of a Vespa. He is responsible for some of the turns in my life.
Why did our paths cross?
On a promontory with the world swept before me it’s tempting to try to contain my reaction to the visual narrative — lovely sky, pretty valley, magnificent Vespa scooter. But a persistent whisper of a thought keeps hinting I should be taking more notice.
Why can’t you see?
I climb to a higher point in the rocks to make another photograph of the view from Jacks Mountain and think of breakfast.
Paul and I have a late breakfast at the Northside Restaurant in Mount Union, Pennsylvania. It’s a quaint local establishment with predictable cuisine. We met two couples on motorcycles who were wandering much like Paul and I were and we shared a few words. When we emerged after breakfast they were preparing to leave. I almost never photograph other riders, especially strangers but this time something compelled me to ask.
Why did I make this photograph?
I never planned to love a Vespa. It just happened. When I began riding in 2005 by sights were firmly fixed on a Triumph when fate intervened in the way of a test ride on a Vespa ET4 and my fate was sealed. Since drinking the scooter Kool-Aid
I’ve piled up thousands of miles on motorcycles — eight BMWs, six Triumphs, two Ducatis, 2 Piaggio MP3s and one URAL rig. Certainly enough time and experience to decide what motorcycle I should be riding.
And still I dream the Vespa dream.
Why has the Vespa taken up residence in my life?
Other than sleeping, riding is the most relaxing thing I do. It works on the mind, the body and a restless spirit. It delivers much and costs little. I’ve wanted to ride a motorcycle since I was a kid and aside from time on other people’s machines I suffered from the “you’ll shoot your eye out” defense from mother and father.
Traveling home from breakfast along the Old Alexandria Pike I had to stop one more time at Pulpit Rocks. The place has mystery though I’m not sure why. An extended visit may provide answers somewhere in the future. Riding reveals things just when I start to believe there’s nothing left.
Why does riding resonate so loudly?
The road is endless but not my ride. I recognize it when I’m on the scooter and when I think about my path in the world.
I’ve been traveling for six decades and question how little I’ve learned or done. Decisions made but without action, or oaths taken without change. Riding strips away much of the selfishly indulged denial and doubt that can wreck dreams and leave a person face-to-face with decisions at the forks in the road.
Why am I afraid to choose?
Another ride and I find more questions than answers. Perhaps best just to let them go…
