riding Archives - Page 38 of 86 - Scooter in the Sticks

Sheltering from Rain

June 17, 2015 by Scooter in the Sticks 15 Comments

For the first time ever I parked beneath an overpass to wait out a passing rainstorm. I’ve seen other riders huddled under bridges or at gas stations to avoid the rain but I’ve always ridden on. To be fair, part of the motivation for waiting was I did not want to get the new BMW R nineT wet so it would remain reasonably pristine for photos. But the bigger issue driving the need to be sheltering from rain was lack of preparation.

Normally when I ride I have rain gear with me. On this machine there was no place for gear, tools, or anything else that would not fit in my pockets. There’s another reason though why I’ve never sought shelter from the rain — I’ve never really been caught in a dangerous downpour.

The next day I was in the van when a dangerous downpour presented itself. Like sheltering from rain the previous day I was close to pulling off the road for the first time because I could not see the road ahead and pools of water were forming on the road surface that made hydroplaning a real possibility. Again, like with previous rides, driving and riding through rain wasn’t a reflection of fortitude or courage on my part, I just had not faced a serious weather event that required a decision to be sheltering from rain.

I have to say there was an unexpected payoff to pulling off the road to wait aside from the selfie I made while sitting in the dirt. The sudden, forced isolation coupled with no knowledge of how long it would last was sobering — a lesson in loss of control. When I ride I kid myself that I am in control when the reality is that I am at the mercy of other drivers, weather and fate. I merely have limited control over myself and my machine.

Sitting along the road in riding purgatory offers an opportunity to experience some rather intense isolation. Or perhaps separation from the world is more precise. Either way you’re left with your thoughts as you sit on the earth. With a smart phone in your pocket it would be easy to medicate any uncomfortable feelings of being alone with the myriad tools for escape it provides and I did indulge with radar maps from Weather.com and a few pictures posted to Instagram. But I did recognize the opportunity to experiment with my reaction to sudden isolation.

Boredom, anxiety, and a desire to have control were all mixed together leaving me feeling oddly unsettled. I like to think riding is a meditative process but while I sat watching the rain and wondering when I would get my life back I wondered if riding wasn’t more escape than meditation.

By the time the BMW roared back to life I had found a calm place, one that was accepting of whatever would come along. But even that was probably an illusion since I had to only wait an hour, the air was warm, there was no pressing need to be anywhere and I wasn’t hungry. A few changes in circumstance would challenge the calm.

I have to think having a ride interrupted by weather is uncommon since so many riders are fair weather adventurers. But some of you that ride into the abyss surely have found yourselves sitting and waiting.

What did you find waiting for you?

The Brief But Magnificent Opportunity

June 7, 2015 by Scooter in the Sticks 31 Comments

Central Pennsylvania riders are blessed with a seemingly endless supply of winding roads — the one in Bald Eagle State Forest.

I thought of my father this morning while riding through the dense green of Bald Eagle State Forest. He would have been 87 today had years of hard work in mines, steel mills and cigarettes not claimed his lungs and life eleven years ago. As a boy he and my mother would take me to places like this on picnics or to just walk — a reflection of my mother growing up in the Alps in a “walking” family.

Riding a Vespa scooter through the empty places in central Pennsylvania affords space to let the mind wander, entertain dreams and fantasies, and face the pressing questions of the moment. And there’s the quiet thrill of flying along on two-wheels, the sense that my spirit is expanding beyond the body and I feel connected to the world. At those moments I’m painfully aware of the brief but magnificent opportunity life really is.

Vespa GTS 250ie along road in Brush Valley, Pennsylvania.

I remain enthralled with the Vespa — form and function. On two lane roads, my route of choice, it performs as well as any motorcycle at legal speeds and can exceed them by 20mph — fast enough for any responsible rider.

My father would never have approved of my riding. All pleadings and schemes to acquire go-karts and mini-bikes, motorcycles and BB guns were repeatedly rejected. Perhaps being an only child played into my parents strategy. His feelings about motorcycles were clear — they were dangerous and unnecessary toys and nothing more. Only fools and people with issues had them.

I do have issues.

Vespa GTS 250ie scooter in Sugar Valley

The road seems long. A camera lens can exaggerate perspective to trick the viewer. The mind can do the same thing as a lens, distort reality. Where I once believed the road is long, now I’m not so sure. I’ve always known that distance isn’t a requirement of a rich ride on the scooter. Same holds true of life. How many miles traveled is less important that the quality of those miles.

I saw many Amish buggies on the road this morning but resisted the urge to make a clever image of that archaic method of transportation with the Vespa. The Amish endure enough peeping from the English.

Lost in on the road, winding through the forest.

A Harley-Davidson motorcycle rumbled past me while I made this picture and I watched them carve through these turns. For the next 12 miles the road twisted and turned through hairpin turns and provided plenty of gravel strewn bends to keep things interesting.

My dad drove like I ride — slow and with few concerns for others on the road save for common courtesy. If he were a rider I like to think he would be on a Vespa and wave to other riders regardless of their riding choice.

Fuel and water stop.

With 70 miles of winding road behind me the scooter needed a drink and so did I. My new diet has kept me out of many of the greasy haunts I would have patronized. Now is fuel, a few glugs of water from a bottle, and a banana or apple. No more hearty bacon breakfast choices.

Vespa GTS 250ie scooter on gravel road.

Who knows where the road will lead. Circumstance and choice guide routes and outcomes. I often don’t really know why I end up at the places I do.

Vespa at the end of the road.

Often little gravel byways and path dry up or are gated closed. The Vespa isn’t something I want to tear through the brush to continue on with an exploration.

My father was neither an explorer or traveler. When he taught me to hunt we were always on familiar territory. I didn’t inherit that trait from him and instead have my mother’s travel instincts — to move on from place to place and not worry about the outcome. It explains many of our travels in Europe without destination or hotel arrangements.

We did just fine.

A stop for water and to munch on a few baked potato chips — the meal of salt lovers…

Some roads feel like tunnels slowly drawing me into something but I’m not sure what. The Vespa was fine but I felt tentative. And that’s ok sometimes.

Sometimes you just need to keep riding until you find what you’re looking for.

Not sure where things will lead. It’s good to have a vantage point to see ahead, if only for a a short distance. So I’ll keep going and see where I end up and take advantage of the brief but magnificent opportunity afforded by life.

Thunder Management

May 27, 2015 by Scooter in the Sticks 16 Comments

Seeing a small lightning bolt in the hourly weather forecast is discouraging. Weighing the chances of things coming true against first hand observations of the sky is one of the skills many riders seek to perfect. In my case there’s less science and more rationalization involved as I try to justify rolling out of the garage and going for a ride. Unless the count between seeing a flash and hearing the thunder drips below 10 I usually will ride. It’s a poor method to engage in thunderstorm management.

My friend Paul and I had planned for a leisurely afternoon ride yesterday until the forecast threatened thunderstorms and rain. At the last minute the sky appeared stable and our path moved us away from the growing darkness in the southwest.

Agriculture is in full swing in central Pennsylvania as farmers paint the landscape with furrows and tire tracks and their methodical patchwork of brown and green. I’ve been photographing places like this since the 1970s and they have not lost their magic.

Paul opted for his new Piaggio Fly 150 over his Ducati on this ride. For backroad travel it has more than enough power. Each time we would round a gravel covered bend I would think about the riders who what to aggressively attack those curves. No pretty pictures in those scenes.

Looking east toward Union County, Pennsylvania which is just beyond the horizon. This area of Penns Valley used to be decidedly rural but is giving way to more housing developments and mini-estates. One of the things keeping the landscape agricultural is the large Amish community but even they seem to be changing — paved driveways, manicured lawns, and solar panels spread across roof tops.

Riding on these little country roads is like dreaming during the day — awake and aware but able to entertain a wide range of “what ifs”. Paul and I moved along with a general direction in mind but with no other agenda other than seeing what would unfold before us. Green dominated the earth while heavy skies watched over us. Thankfully, the weather forecast threatening rain delivered it elsewhere.

Millheim is closed on Tuesdays. The cafe, restaurant, art gallery and butcher shop, all closed on Tuesday. The left the pizza place as the only choice for a snack before riding off toward Penns Creek and wandering home. No thunder, no rain, no pressure.

Just a simple ride in the country.

Breathing in the Road

May 25, 2015 by Scooter in the Sticks 22 Comments

Aimless with a wandering mind, a difficult state to visit, a worthy goal to have — at least in my world. As the Vespa moves slowly along path and pavement under a bright sun and blue sky most noisy ideas and concerns grow limp and dissipate leaving only the scooter and the road. The mind floats along somewhere. This morning the fragrance of honey locust trees filled the air only to be replaced by the scent of freshly cut hay. A little further, as the hedge rows crowd the road, honeysuckle perfume, all like a spring dream stroking sparkling senses. Not once does the Vespa roar or growl, not a hint of gasoline or oil. We’re just silent partners breathing in the road.

The agricultural valleys are flush with spring and looking towards summer. Unlike the mega-droughts in the West we still have water. Irrigation is rare as are water intensive crops. Wandering through the countryside is an exercise in observation — finding something interesting in the ordinary. I don’t make mythic trips across multiple states or continents. Circumstance requires I find adventure and satisfaction on the well traveled roads of my life.

I’ve explored this idea for nearly two decades as a photographer and found inspiration in the work of Josef Sudek and his personal explorations when trapped in his little cottage for years during the Nazi occupation of Prague. Finding compelling subject matter to explore within arm’s reach is difficult. I’ve tried to apply this approach on the road.

I’ve followed these small roads halfway across Pennsylvania. The state is a patchwork of former farm lanes now paved by townships to form a dizzying challenge to anyone looking to find someplace specific. For a wanderer they provide a welcome escape from the tightly managed roads of daily life.

I’ve passed this tree a hundred times or more over the years, one of many that stand out. Some have fallen, victims of lightning, development or old age. I see them as metaphors for life and childishly believe they’ll go on forever. Such is not the case though.

Egg Hill rises above Penns Valley in the distance, a small hill that divides the valley into two distinct areas. My riding preferences usually take me to the left and on into more sparsely populated areas and eventually into Bald Eagle State Forest.

Standing here I can feel the draw of the horizon, to explore tracks and paths, and let my spirit roam with the scooter. For now, I stay close to home and allow my body to slowly adjust my recent heart attack. Later this week my cardiologist will evaluate progress and send me on to a cardiac rehabilitation facility to find out how much physical stress I can endure.

More adventures in life. I hope they’re as sweet as a ride in the country on the Vespa…

Fear of the Dark

May 22, 2015 by Scooter in the Sticks 14 Comments

This evening a friend asked me about leather jackets — the kind you might find in a department store. His son recently got a small motorcycle and he wanted to know if the jacket made him safe. After our discussion of protective riding gear and the difference between a true motorcycle leather jacket and a leather jacket intended for casual dress I could sense fear in his voice — fear for the safety of his son.

Every rider has probably had some conversation about riding, safety and risk with someone who will never be convinced that the activity at best is a fool’s errand but in reality more akin to a death wish. Their fear of the dark is too strong to dissuade.

This evening I took a short ride into town on the Vespa in a light mist, another slow step in my cardiac recovery. Learning to pace myself, respecting my current physical limitations, and not surrendering to any fear of the dark is where I find myself today. Riding provides a wonderful barometer to evaluate progress and location.

Wet roads and dying light are circumstances that must be assessed and managed. They have their own unique challenges and do not bend to my needs or agenda. I bend to them. Looking at the warm pools of light on the pavement, the reflections in the puddles, the soft glow of the evening light, it’s important I don’t lose track of the important matters at hand — that the road surface has far less traction, drivers can’t see me as well, and I can’t see as well either.

Thinking about how well my physical recovery is proceeding it’s important I don’t lose track of what’s important — take my medication without fail, eat healthily, and pay attention to my physical and emotional condition. I can’t get lost in the soft glow of an easy recovery.

Paid a short visit to my granddaughter this afternoon. I’m surprised at the motivation this little person provides to live a different life. I want to see her grow up, walk with her, talk about the world. It’s as if there is a genetic program at work stretching back tens of thousands of years to make sure the young and the old connect.

Somehow, riding my Vespa is intertwined with whatever conversations we’ll have.

The warm weather has given way to a heavy gray sky and a plunge in temperature — a favored riding environment for me. Things look different when the sun is gone. Standing along the road looking across the expanse of green meeting the heavy sky I see only opportunity. Any fear of the dark is supplanted by an expectant dream of adventure ahead.

A portrait of my mother hangs outside of my granddaughter’s bedroom, a charcoal sketch made by one of her friends when she was 18 years old. Her face reminds me of the appreciation of adventure she bestowed on me, the desire to see what’s over the next hill, what lies around the next turn.

I’ve always considered adventure in terms of movement and travel for which the Vespa is a capable partner. Perhaps it was just preparation for another kind of adventure.

Almost home, Vespa along the road, Mount Nittany in the distance shrouded in mist. For me, at its best, riding is a solitary experience. The choices on the road are mine to make as is progress toward a destination. I can’t help but think about how tangled life is amidst a sea of circumstance, desire and dreams.

Oh, the ride is breathtaking…

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