Scooter in the Sticks

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

The Honda Trail 125 Magic

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Two Honda Trail 125 motorcycles on a forest road at sunrise.
Perfect motorcycles for adventures in the mountains of Central Pennsylvania.

A Special Little Motorcycle

I’ve reached a point in my life that I could buy and ride any two-wheeled machine I desire. The only limitation is space to store them. Acquistion is carefully curated to make sure whatever I ride meets my aesthetic requirements, is able and comfortable to ride in the environments I choose, and possesses a level of magic that adds to the inherent thrill riding delivers.

The Honda Trail 125 meets my requirements and goes an extra mile by enabling me to ride in places I would hesitate to explore on anything else in the garage. At least now at my age and with the wisdom I’ve accumulated from experience.

Combine the magic with a fellow CT125 rider and it’s no wonder I’m excited to get on the little motorcycle and wander into the mountains near home. We were on the road just after sunrise. It was a chilly 42F but with the promise of quickly rising temperatures as the sun climbed higher in the sky. I was grateful to have an extra layer under my Aerostich jacket and my hands warm inside my Gerbing battery powered gloves.

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Aging and the Inevitable Gate at the End of the Road

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Man hooked up to a 12-lead for an electrocardiogram.
The adventure of cardiac testing.

Focus on the Ride or on the Gate?

Let me begin by saying I’m fine.

A recent event coupled with a history of heart attack precipitated my cardiologist to have a closer look at the internal mechanics. Laying on a bed with a 12-lead monitor attached I was ready for the treadmill after an initial ultrasound examination of valves, arteries, and a check for any evidence of a familial aortic aneurysm.

Lying there I wished I had ridden to the appointment. An inquiry the night before with ChatGPT had it stress the stupidity of riding after the test. It listed the possible side effects which could affect my ability to ride safely. It agreed with my wife.

Each of us has an expiration date. As I get older I am more aware of that fact. Many don’t like to think about the topic but I have found an open and honest approach to the realities of life allow me to experience everything more fully. Thinking about aging and the inevitable Gate at the end of the road is a lovely riding metaphor for the predicament that every one of us is in even though we may often be blissfully unaware of the road we’re on. Or worse, in good old denial.

I focus on the ride. And as a result all the good and bad along the way is lighter and easier to accept, deal with, or just let go.

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Hurtling Toward the Boneyard

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A 2001 Kawasaki W650 motorcycle parked along a wooded road in early autumn.
Riding the W650 in early autumn.

Reminders of My Physical Reality

For the past couple months I’ve been physically feeling a little worse than normal. Whatever normal is now as I ride the downward slope towards the boneyard. Psoriatic arthritis visits more frequently with painfully stiff joints and fiery reminders that all is not well in this body. And a request by my rheumatologist to taper the drug used to control things to make sure I’ve not gone into remission and no longer need the cancer med used to suppress my immune system.

I’m not in remission.

And some recent chest pressure and pain has a stress echo test in my immediate future to determine if things have worsened since my heart attack back in 2015. The only evidence that I’m not hurtling toward the boneyard is the miraculous eye surgery that removed my cataracts. It transformed me and my near-sighted existence into a far-sighted man who no longer has to fuss with glasses in the motorcycle helmet. And I have great night vision.

I acknowledge I have an expiration date in a way I didn’t when I was younger. And it has made each day special regardless of whatever joy or crap I face. Riding is an even more exquisite experiences. An unexpected result of hurtling toward the boneyard.

I had two goals when I rolled out on the Kawasaki W650 — explore an area whose roads were unfamiliar, and have breakfast at a cafe I’ve not visited in a few years. Perfect excuses to ride on a crisp morning in autumn.

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Desire Comes Before the Ride

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A Royal Enfield Himalayan parked at a gas pump.
A ride always starts with a check of the fuel tank.

Google Maps, My Go To Distraction

The desire to ride is nearly constant. It would descend into obsession if not for age, wisdom, and experience working together to manage neatly into my life. And usually the desire to ride runs far ahead of any plan and while others might spend time watching the news or prowling social media to relax I turn to Google Maps to investigate the world to transform desire into a ride.

That’s how I found myself adding gas to the Himalayan, a man with a plan.

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Exploring a Mysterious Road

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A Honda Trail 125 motorcycle parked at a scenic vista.
The goal in my mind’s eye.

Can I Get There?

There’s a road not far from here that I’ve spent considerable time thinking about, looking at maps, reviewing satellite imagery, and searching for first-hand accounts of whether it’s passable.

I know where the road might lead — to the ridge top where I have ridden many times. And I know a short stretch that reaches through a farm field at the bottom. But what lies between is unknown. I’ve been told it is now private property. Some suggest a property owner has bulldozed a barrier making in impossible to cross. And some say it is just too steep and rough to navigate. I’m left with the question, “Can I get there?”

I recently stumbled on a mountain biking site where riders share information and saw a nugget of intelligence about the Pennsylvania Furnace Road — rough but passable. No one seems to care if you ride through. Satellite images appear to show the road going through someone’s front yard and being a gentleman I don’t readily trespass so close to someone’s home. Especially when so many people here carry and are protective of their property. Still, the report said “passable.”

That’s all I needed to reach out to Paul and ask if he wanted to take a long ride to breakfast on our Honda Trail 125 motorcycles.

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