Scooter in the Sticks

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

Destination for Next Ride

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Vespa on gravel roadWhere Am I Headed?

After a month of posting daily to Scooter in the Sticks I need to pull off the road for gas and look at the map. Not sure where I’m headed or what I hope to see along the way. Riding home from work today had me thinking about a direction.

And that it’s still cold.

For a long time I’ve been content to let things unfold without plans or interference on my part. It’s how I decided to participate in the Brave, Bold Blogger Challenge 2016. That and a sometimes no-well-thought-out response to ideas and projects that “seem” creatively challenging.

I won’t rise quickly to paint the bathroom, but 29 posts in 29 days – count me in.

Being completely honest, I learned a lot about myself, my ideation and writing abilities, and was rewarded with some interesting web data about reactions to post subjects and frequency. Not sure if all bloggers do this but I monitor traffic on a variety of blogs and websites of which I admire the voice and content and measure my traffic against them. There’s no real reason to do this, I’m not selling anything or trying to attract sponsorship opportunities. Perhaps it’s the little part of me that harbors some inkling of competition.

So when I received a message a few days ago about what I was trying to accomplish here and how I may be able to do that without posting frantically I was left wondering what my goals are with Scooter in the Sticks.

Goals.

Goals?

Makes sense only if I connect the time I spend riding, making photographs and writing as a means to an end. Can’t that be the end itself? A labor of love.

Maybe.

When pushed I can devise a goal: Create an engaged readership to which I can market my Scooter in the Sticks book. If I ever write one.

Or: Share the cosmic experience of riding a Vespa.

No?

Vespa GTS scooter and pile of dirty snow and iceAllure of Abjection

Behaviors are hard to break. Riding home today I had to stop to look at a large, filthy pile of snow. I could never pass up a pile of trash along the road, tailings at a mine or debris collections of almost any kind. “Evidence of something” echoes in my head as the collective call of discovery.

I first heard the term “abjection” in art school as discussions took place around some of the more controversial art in America boiled — artists like Cindy Sherman, Kiki Smith, Louise Bourgeois, Carolee Schneemann, Collier Schorr and others upsetting the status quo of beauty.  But that depressed, gloomy look of certain places was always attractive — beauty is in the eye of the beholder. These piles of dirty snow are as lovely as the sweeping dunes of White Sands.  Maybe I’ll travel another photographic road.

Where the road leads now I can’t say. A glut of Vespa maintenance tasks await along with a spring cleaning of the garage and reassignment of a snowblower. So any plans may drift in limbo for awhile.

The next ride could be interesting.

Vespa GTS and US322 road signsJust Ride

Sometimes seeing a sign that says “East” or “West” can trigger a strong desire to just ride into the sunset. (Or sunrise depending on choice).  I’ve been itching to put hundreds and hundreds of miles behind me to embrace the cleansing nature of a long ride.  The wind slowly dries my brain of the sloshing thoughts that do more to irritate than enlighten and can transform an easy commute into a tedious mental exercise.

“Just ride” has been ringing in my head.  My friend Paul has been offering opportunities and plans.  Maybe it’s time for the next ride.

Blog be damned for the moment.

Music in My Head

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When I’m riding alone, on the open road, invariably one song comes into my head…


Wayfaring Stranger

I first heard this song over 45 years ago.  It lay dormant until I started to ride again.  While alone on the road, going nowhere in particular, it creeped into my consciousness, a little tune that grew louder and louder.

Now, it’s the go to music in my head.  The rendition by Michael Parks and Bonnie Bedelia which was part of the pilot for hte TV show Then Came Bronson is indelibly etched in my brain and one of the few songs for which I know the words.  I sing it while I ride and the acoustic magic inside the helmet has me convinced I’m a fine singer — so much so that I actually recorded the song and thought to cut Vespa pictures to it.

Some things are best left to the imagination.

I wonder if all riders have a default song playing in their head?  And perhaps more interesting — why that song and what does it say about the rider?

Beginning Rider

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Steve Williams on Harley-Davidson motorcycle

Beginnings

Where did it begin, this lifelong fascination with motorcycles?  As a kid I dreamt of go-karts and mini-bikes.  By the time I got to high school I was riding motorcycles owned by friends and relatives — my parents forbid such dangerous nonsense.  My friend Randy bought a new Harley-Davidson in 1973 (I think) which he graciously allowed me to ride.  It was my first big motorcycle.  I was just a beginning rider.

Steve McQueen’s motorcycle riding in The Great Escape is the first memory of a riding persona I have with it’s urgent sense of potential freedom though perhaps lost on my nine-year-old mind.  And then the possibility of romantic adventure in Then Came Bronson and Easy Rider.  Those stories and imagery took root and have stayed with me even though it would be another 32 years until I bought a Vespa scooter.

Steve Williams with BMW F650 motorcycle

Photo by Gordon Harkins

 Motorcycles and Scooters

I’ve ridden a lot of different motorcycles and have enjoyed most.  But at the end of the day I remain steadfastly connected to my Vespa GTS 250ie scooter.  It’s as close to the perfect ride I’ve found.  But there have been motorcycles I’ve thought about.

Triumph Scrambler

I’ve coveted the Triumph Scrambler despite my feelings that it’s not practical.  Pure lust at work.

Steve Williams with BMW F650 motorcycle

The BMW F650 was a delightful ride that I could well imagine owning.

Steve Williams and Kim Dionis

Photo by Stephen DiRado; Part of his Dinner Series, 2004

Family Support

I don’t remember the details that led to the purchase of my first Vespa scooter.  Whatever they were my wife Kim played a role.  Partner, lover, friend — she’s supported first the ride and has been patient with the blogging that followed.  Her support has fertilized my creative ability and confidence.  She knows how and when a boot in the ass is necessary.

And the rest of the family has supported, or at least tolerated, my riding adventures.

Steve Williams, Vespa rider

Photo by Gordon Harkins

I think a lot about riding and all its attendant rituals.  I’ve always felt I’ve been searching for something and riding has helped the investigation.  Even when I come to a dead end the ride makes it all ok.

It’s a wonderful life.

 

 

With New Eyes

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Belgian Sheepdog staring at the cameraMy dog looks into me and asks why?

At least that’s what I see as I gear up for a ride.  He’s witnessed the process many times and still he watches as if with new eyes.  There’s a great language in the eyes and though I’m not always an accomplished reader I recognize the power they contain.

When the ride is sweetest, I see the world with new eyes.

Pine and hemlock trees in the forestOften I feel something before I see it.

I’ll be roaming on the scooter, eyes scanning the road ahead, behind, the landscape through which I’m traveling and I’ll feel a sudden attraction to a place before I recognize a specific scene or subject.  It happens more often in nature than riding through man made places.

This morning I parked the Vespa so I could wander through the woods.  In a few days hunters will search for deer as I was looking for something different and while I found nothing I sensed how I was seeing a familiar place with new eyes.

Whatever that means.

Vespa scooter along a creekIf I love exploring the road on the Vespa.

But I may appreciate even more the unbinding of my mind made possible by the act of riding.For anyone who lets their mind wander you may appreciate how wildly afield thoughts can range and imagination subdues logic as new connections surface.

Looking at the trees and listening to the water the words “forest primeval” whispered in my head.  The camera wasn’t helping and I wasn’t writing or taking notes, just looking, as if with new eyes.  Only later during the ride at a stop to buy Kim a birthday present did the words take on meaning as Dan Fogelberg’s song “Longer” play in my head and those words took on meaning.  It wasn’t our song or anything but somehow my brain put it all together.  Maybe the forest was reminding me of what to get her.

Her gift does have a forest theme.

Vespa GTS scooter on a winding gravel roadThere is no destination.

Most of the morning was spent meandering along the gravel mountain roads enjoying the mild weather and letting my mind follow along as it would.  If my clumsy attempt at description seems to imply a measure of control, especially over my mind, believe me when I say I have little control over where it goes.

And that’s fine.

Tree tops against a darkening skyWhat am I seeing with new eyes?

As the daylight faded and my eyes wandered over the graying texture of the evening sky I thought about how simple life can seem.  The camera can reduce a confusion place midst confusing ideas to a simple composition that belies any truth of a moment and denies the absolute mystery of what we experience.

I look at selfie pictures sometimes and wonder what I’m seeing.  Some, many, seem superficial artifacts that are nothing more that mechanical documentation of a moment with no meaning or mystery.  And then there are others where the eyes burn in me and through me causing some measure of visceral discomfort as they seek answers to questions that I didn’t ask.  The eyes are at work.

Rides on these kind of days are work.

winter time thistle as the day grows darkThe day ends as does the ride.

The eyes are tired as is the body.  The Vespa is safe in the garage as the world fades to black.  I don’t pretend to be enlightened or improved by the experiences riding provides.  I recognize things happen and I embrace them as I can.  Kim says I seem more relaxed than I used to be before I started riding.  Maybe the mental gymnastics have a calming effect.

Or maybe I’m just more content when I can see the world over and over again with new eyes.

Alone on the Road

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Vespa GTS on a rural roadRiding alone has curative powers for my irritated mind.  Destination or route don’t seem to matter as much as being alone with my thoughts.  Being alone isn’t as much a desire as it is a need.  Without recurring doses of time alone I get:

  • irritable
  • grumpy
  • disagreeable
  • out of sorts
  • quick-tempered
  • cranky

Basically a pain in the ass.

At some level I probably recognized this personal quality and adjusted my interests and time to satisfy the need to be alone.  Walking, hiking, wandering with a camera and now riding.  A few miles on the scooter and the world begins to make sense.  Or at least my restless thinking begins to calm down.

This morning it was cold when I left the house with the temperature at 41F.  Destinations rolled through my head as I pushed the Vespa out of the garage but none fired enough neurons to form a plan.  A plan isn’t really necessary when being alone is the goal.

Vespa GTS 250 along Spring CreekMost of the leaves are down now and we could see snow at any time.  The days continue to shorten and already I’ve gone to work and returned home in the dark.  This morning I took a short ride just to soak up some sunshine and embrace the day.  I’ve been by this place many times but I’ve still not really seen it.  When asked if I bore of riding the same paths I always think of the photographer, Josef Sudek, who during the Nazi occupation of Prague spent years photographing in his little studio and window and made a remarkably complex and rich collection of photographs.

There’s much more to see on the roads I travel.

large pumpkin statue made of round hay balesI never saw this hay bale pilgrim all ready for Thanksgiving.  Someone spent some time and effort putting it together including the use of hydraulics considering the weight of a round bale of hay.

Lots to see on the road.

Vespa GTS 250 scooter in a field under a blue sky with cloudsA perfect morning.  Looking at the scooter in such an idyllic setting it’s hard for me to understand why anyone would oppose someone learning to ride.  Even when considering more traffic intensive places the question persists.

I’ve heard a resistant spouse or lover raise the danger question fearing the almost certain death that accompanies riding.  It may present as “we have children” or “I had a friend who rode…”.  I understand the concern and I’ll be the first to admit that riding is more dangerous than driving a car.  But there are other points to consider.

Who is taking the greater risk?  A distracted driver, frustrated and in a hurry to beat traffic or a rider focused on the road, relaxed and happy?

And who is a better partner, parent or lover?  The angry driver who comes home wound tight or the rider who arrives home with a measure of serenity mixed with pleasure?

Vespa along rural roadI like to think riding has made me a better person.  I certainly feel lighter and happier after a ride, even a short one through ordinary places, alone on the road, alone with my thoughts.

bagel and tea at the Pump Station CafeAt the end of the ride I stopped at the Pump Station Cafe to make a few notes and read a few more pages from Thomas Merton’s Thoughts In Solitude.

Like Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry Into Values, it takes some work to understand and for some the Christian perspective can be a problem.  Even though Merton was a Trappist monk, his writing kept his religion personal and never felt as if he were preaching.  The first book I read by Merton was The Seven Storey Mountain, a fascinating story of Merton’s withdrawal from the world and into a monastic order of silence.

It’s safe to read — I wouldn’t fear abandoning your worldly possessions to become a monk.  And besides, if you have a scooter or motorcycle, you don’t really need a monastery.