Scooter in the Sticks

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

Riding in the Rain

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Vespa GTS 250ie as it starts to rainLeaving work late only to find it starting to rain and facing a decision to ride without or without raingear.  My Revit rain suit has remained unused for over a year as I continue to choose wet over dry.  Laziness is at work, at least partially as the thought of unpacking and donning the suit seems dizzying.  And a rough part of me just likes getting drenched.  I suppose every rider has a different dance when considering riding in the rain.

rain drops on Vespa scooter windscreen

Riding west towards the setting sun and approaching rain revealed little of what would happen.  Roads wet but not drenched left a slippery film cabable of dispatching the best rider in a weak moment.  Sudden flares of sunlight easily blinds the unprepared daydreamer.  A few minutes inside a store on the way home had me wondering if I would ride wet or dry.

Tree in an open farm field.

Minutes later sweeping along a backroad towards home  confirmed the wisdom of my choice to leave the rainsuit untouched.  The lone trees that punctuate the farm fields throughout Pennsylvania reflect the care and functionality in place by farmers of previous generations.  Those trees were often left in place to provide noontime shade for a team of plow horses while the farmer walked back to the house for lunch.  Few were left with painters or photographers in mind  70 years down the road.

Vespa scooter along a rural road

One last stop to admire the late day light painting the landscape before turning the Vespa towards home.  Some days you get wet and others leave you dry.  I was glad to miss a downpour and the need to pull out the rain suit.  Just a bit too tired and worn to think too much about the rain.

 

Embracing the Grey

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Overcast sky over Tussey Mountain
A grey cloak has been pulled over central Pennsylvania for the past few days forcing a rather dramatic decline in the number of scooter and motorcycle riders on the road despite temperatures remaining in the 65F to 75F range.  The skies have threatened rain and squeezed a few sprinkles of water and an occasional drizzle but otherwise the road is open for those ready to embrace the grey.  Some of the most magical scenes are shrouded in the dim, dull light.

I suppose there are strong reasons not to ride on days like these.

I don’t want to get wet.
Hard to argue with that because even with good rain gear you will still likely get a little wet.

It’s dangerous to ride when it’s wet.
Again, hard to argue with that statement.  I refine it a bit myself and acknowledge the risk on wet roads and in the rain do increase.  It requires an honest evaluation of conditions, experience, skill, and willingness to assume the increased risk.  That process comes through practice and is definitely now something any of us does naturally.

I don’t want to get my scooter or motorcycle dirty.
Yes, it will get dirty, the chrome will have water spots.  What can I say?

Vespa GTS 250ie along PA Route 45

For me, aside from the quality of light on these grey days, one of the attractive reasons for riding is the lessening of traffic in general, at least on a weekend.  It’s not just riders who stay at home, a lot of people take to the couch on the grey days.  I remember some years back the kids and I went to a water slide park on a day like this.  The temperature was in the 80s but it looked as if it was going to rain.  We went and were pleasantly surprised at how few people were there.  Instead of long lines to the tops of the slides we could slide down and run right back to the top and slide down again all day long without waiting for anyone.

A side benefit of grey.

Vespa GTS 250ie heading into Rothrock State Forest

Traffic is so light, especially moving into the Rothrock State Forest, that I can park the scooter in the road for a picture.  Underneath the forest canopy protects the road from some of the rain that washes away the slickness that develops when things first get wet.  The pavement stays damps longer and you need to be careful on these tame looking paths lest the scooter rotate onto the ground.

Photography is far easier on a grey day where the light is completely diffused with no huge range of contrast from direct sunlight battling with deep shade.

Vespa GTS 250ie in the woods.

This picture represents the biggest risk I took during this ride.  Wandering off into the woods for a picture I almost walked into one of the thickest patches of poison ivy I’ve encountered.  The magic of photography belies the darkness from which the picture was made.  Lots of light on the road but nearly black under the trees.  I’m glad my eyes had adjusted enough to see the poison…

Verbascum thapsus plant with Vespa scooter

The ride ended with me having the chance to photograph one of the plants that Kim has helped me learn to appreciate, Verbascum thapsus, or what some refer to as great mullein or common mullein.  It grows throughout the United States but was brought into the country in the 1700s from Africa.  On a grey day it looks great to me and almost pushes the ride from my mind.

So the grey shrouded ride ends or ever narrower paths.  And it never did rain.

Riding and the Taste of Freedom

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Three things happens to me when I’m riding a scooter or motorcycle — I pay closer attention to the world, taste a bit of riding freedom, and a get just a little bit smarter.  At least that’s what I tell myself.

Brownie and Earl Grey tea at the Pump Station in Boalsburg, PA

Riding alone, I almost always end up at a place where I can enjoy a simple pleasure, often something chocolate and a cup of tea, and time alone to watch the world go by, perhaps write a few things in my journal, and let my mind unwind and run free. How often does a person get to feel that way, the kind of freedom you have as a kid where time doesn’t have meaning and your life seems like it’s your own.  Riding provides a glimpse of what life could be like and makes it clear how hard it is to come by.

Vespa GTS250ie in a rural gravel lot.

There is a lot to see on the road beyond the obvious hazards and risks from vehicles, animals and pavement challenges.  A rider always has to manage those and guard against complacency and a wandering mind lest disaster creep near.  That’s one form of paying attention and it is a valuable skill.  But there’s another level of attention that I experience as a dim filter being peeled away from my eyes revealing a world previously hidden.  Everywhere there’s something to see — every scene and space is mysterious and holds secrets to uncover.

Riding along on the Vespa I find myself exploring spaces and paths because I know I’ll find something — dumped construction waste in which the raw materials for the latest garden installation might spring, or a plant, rock or other treasure is revealed as I step away from the scooter to look in the weeds.  My eyes sharpen and intuition whispering “look there, look here…” guide part of the journey.

Vespa GTS 250ie along the road

The number of stops I make to explore or make pictures is excessive and obsessive.  It drives my decision to seldom ride with anyone lest they grow annoyed, frustrated and worse.  I’ve found other photographers are the best to ride with; they’re generally curious and have something to do when I stop.

Poster warning of New Zealand mudsnails

The exploring does leave me just a bit smarter.  While wandering at one stop along a trout stream I saw this poster warning of the dangers of New Zealand Mudsnails — an invasive aquatic species that is troubling the area.  Until I saw this poster I had never heard any of this and I live close to such a stream. Riding away I know the importance of stopping aquatic hitchhikers.

Vespa scooter and cornfield

This ride took place on July 5th.  Looking at the picture I’m certain each and every one of you sees the obvious lesson derived from a stroll around the area.

You see it, on the left, the corn.  Look at the corn and something is revealed.  Well, maybe not, maybe I have special insight having spent the last 35 years working for the College of Agricultural Sciences at Penn State.  An early indoctrination by someone, probably a farmer I ran into on an assignment, instill some words in my head that are still with me involving how you assess the growth of corn.  The rule of thumb was that the corn should be “knee high by the Fourth of July”.  Well, unless it grew overnight that corn was near my shoulders.  So I learned something.  Either that rule of thumb is wrong, or something is going really well with this corn variety.

And so the ride went, eyes wide drinking in the world, free as a bird and tasting freedom, and maybe just a little smarter in a Jeopardy sort of way…

Empty Morning Ride

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Vespa GTS scooter alone on the road on a misty morning

For me, the first moments of the day shape the path my mind heads down.  A walk with the dog, a hot shower, and a ride on the Vespa makes puts everything in perspective.  Especially if I’m alone on the road.

This past Sunday morning I found myself drawn towards the mountains outside of town, up towards the fog and mystery.  Time and responsibility kept the Vespa at a distance; we could only look and imagine what secrets were hidden in the mist.

Vespa GTS scooter alone on the road in rural Pennsylvania

One of my favorite haunts for dog and foot is undergoing a transformation forced by giant machines.  I can only watch and hope some space remains for more solitary pursuits.  Could be progress pushed me farther afield to find the emptiness I crave.Continue Reading

Spinning Down the Mind, Changing the World with a Vespa

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The past few days the mornings began with the Vespa.  If I were patient I could describe the mental transition that takes place when the decision is made to ride to work, or anywhere for that matter.  A slow, insistent unfurling of the mental log jam between my ears starts to melt and give way to a brighter outlook.

I can swear to that.  Rain or shine.

Untwisting the noise allows room for new ideas.  For me those ideas often appear as little visions, like a kid seeing Snoopy in a cloud.  I saw a turtle during a momentary romantic meander with Kim.

She calls them tertels.


The most insidious aspect of allowing a brain to become distorted and disturbed is becoming callous and hardened an a way that prevents recognition of the little gifts right in front of you everyday.

I miss watching sunsets.

 And there are all the little things that spark wonder or a smile.  The soft complexity of the male strobili on pinus strobus.  Or your wife mesmerized by the bark on a tree.

And I can’t help but appreciate the mechanical marvel of Bruce Babcock’s vintage Royal Enfield at the Boalsburg Moto Hang.

Or the fabriction wonders of Harry Tarzian’s hand built sidecar rig based on a BMW K1100 with a front end fashioned from Corvette suspension pieces.  And a lot more ingenious engineering.

Wandering into town, sharing space with a Kawasaki Ninja, and taking in the quiet energy of the State College, Pennsylvania sidewalks on a Thursday evening is almost as relaxing as the ride into town.

Almost.

Home again, home again jiggety-jig.  I didn’t buy a fat hog though.  The garden is becoming a jungle though thankfully one without a bear this week.  A fragrance of skunk has filled the night a few times and I hope the dog is smart enough to give one a wide berth.  Skunks don’t look like tennis balls after all.
So, as I ready myself to consume pizza and put my feet up for the day I am happy once again to be reminded that a little journey on two wheels can change the world.