Scooter in the Sticks

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

Moto Hang: A Gathering of Riders

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Paul Ruby at a Moto Hang
At the Moto Hang — Paul rode my K75 while I piloted the Vespa.

Another Moto Hang

For those who don’t know, the Moto Hang is a gathering of riders of all sorts of two and three-wheeled vehicles. It occurs on the first and third Wednesday’s of the month in warm weather and moves to a different location each time.

I’ve been lax in my posting of things related to the Moto Hang events this year. As it transitioned away from the Boalsburg Moto Hang to one hosted at a continuing array of locations the charm of the old barn where it used to happen — in my head at least. Or that’s my excuse. So I’ll try and catch up now.

It continues to be a gathering of riders. Like-minded men and women with an ongoing fascination for motorcycles, scooters and riding.

This past week I rode the next of the last regular Moto Hang gathering on my Vespa scooter. My friend Paul borrowed the K75. Just a short, eight mile ride to the home of Jason and Lori Lettiere — hosts for this occurence of the Moto Hang.

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Mistakes and Lessons on Riding

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Two motorcycles on a gloomy morning parked at a scenic vista
The beginning of a day of mistakes and lessons on riding.

Jo Hays Vista

It’s rare that my first riding mistake comes before I leave the driveway. And humbling to realize after years on two-wheels I’m still capable of making decisions that come back to haunt me. I had just pushed the motorcycle out of the garage, pulled it onto the center stand, and rushed around to make sure the doors were locked and the dogs were content before my departure. With the BMW K75 idling in the driveway I felt hot in my First Gear Kilimanjaro riding jacket despite the thermometer indicating 63F.

The weather forecast indicated it would rise quickly to 70F. And there was no rain in the forecast so I didn’t need the heavier jacket or a rainsuit. Substituting my summer mesh jacket I made my first mistake — I was not prepared for any change or variation in the forecast.

The entire day would be one of mistakes and lessons on riding.

Just nine miles later atop Jo Hays Vista my error was apparent. A t-shirt under a mesh jacket and a bit of mist in the air felt cold. Unlike Paul’s BMW K1300 with full faring, heated grips and seat, and his leather jacket to ward off the moisture and cold, I just hoped for the promised increase in temperature and some of the fabled heat from the K75 fuel tank.

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Down the Road

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Rural road stretching to the horizon in an agricultural valley
A view down the road that continues to attract and haunt my riding dreams.

On Down the Road to Breakfast

Still, after tens of thousands of miles riding in central Pennsylvania, I remain infatuated with the long, rolling roads through our agricultural valleys. As breakfast destinations are often an hour’s ride away, the opportunity to ride on down the road through multiple valleys is common.

Apart from the times of day where people are rushing to work, these roads are sparsely traveled. It’s not uncommon to ride for ten minutes or more and not see another vehicle. And that might be an Amish horse drawn buggy.

It’s in this landscape my rides often begin.

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A Few Moments Alone with My Thoughts

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Vespa scooter parked along street
Yet another portrait of my Vespa scooter.

Morning Vespa Portrait

I’ve parked my scooter in this same place, under the same morning sky for almost 13 years. From Boalsburg to State College to Saint’s Cafe to embrace a few moments alone with my thoughts, time together with friends, or just to watch my fellow creatures performing their own dance in the world.

The ritual begins with the Vespa, from the moment I push it out of the garage until I arrive in town, riding separates me from most of the thoughts and concerns that haunt me through the day. My mind focuses on the road and nothing else matters. In this space I feel alive.

So there’s a measure of gratitude on my part for somehow finding my way to riding relatively late in my life. I wonder sometimes as I obsessively photograph the scooter whether I’m paying homage to what it represents or just documenting a love affair that’s so thrilling I don’t want to miss a moment of it.

Strange what goes through my head when I have a few moments alone with my thoughts.

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The 200 Mile Hot Dog

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Scooter and motorcycle being moved outside of a garage
My friend Paul Ruby had to exchange his Honda CRF250L motorcycle for his BMW K1300 before we could begin our 200 mile ride for a hot dog at the Coney Island Lunch in Shamokin, Pennsylvania.

Moving Motorcycles

This post was supposed to be about hot dogs. But it seems to be more about the misery of summer riding.

There’s only room for one motorcycle in Paul’s garage. For long rides that don’t require any off-pavement maneuvers he prefers the luxurious comfort of his BMW K1300 motorcycle. Sure enough, when I arrived at his house to begin our ride to get a hot dog for lunch we had to first exchange machines. That meant paying a visit to a garage he rents on the other side of town.

Riding 200 miles to get a hot dog is exactly the sort of crazy behavior that we’ve both managed to normalize in our riding life. Any excuse to ride. Time and distance are irrelevant. We exist in a world where such things are concerns in the domains of youth and career. We’re just two guys with few cares in the world.

That’s before encountering the misery of summer riding.

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