Sitting at home late this afternoon reading a book when I suddenly noticed the fading light, warmly orange streaking across the hilltops and clouds.  Dropping everything, I grabbed my camera and raced to the garage.

I like to think that I love to ride but it clearly isn’t that simple.  And I’ve been a working photographer my entire adult life though I let countless things derail a wide range of photographic opportunities and projects.  I want to make simple assessments of my life and actions but it just isn’t so simple.

Riding the Vespa and making photographs are clearly linked in some unholy manner.  More than one person has referenced my obsessive placement of the scooter in pictures and I confess to a powerful draw to do so.  As I stood in front of Mount Nittany in the fading light I forced myself to make a photograph without the Vespa.

The race was on as I forged ahead in the cold as the indicator flashed 27F on the instrument cluster.  I usually am careful to be warm before departure but this time I neglected to do so and could feel my feet getting cold after five miles.  Not a good thing for someone who suffers from Chilblains, a condition where the capillaries in my feet are easily damaged by cold and can lead to some nasty blistering.

Just one of a few medical conditions foisted on my by bad genetics and age.  But the recognition wasn’t enough to turn me towards the warmth of home and instead I kept riding, searching for some image or experience.  On rides like this I really do wonder about my obsessive traits.  They may account for some of my ability to focus doggedly on projects, at least those that capture my interest.  Things like painting walls or mowing lawns, they don’t attract any of my obsessive powers.

Riding on two wheels has some advantages — in this case being able to navigate around locked gates and other barriers to four wheeled vehicles.

By the time I rode through State College, Pennsylvania I was ready to head home.  The cold had won out over other obsessive/creative desires.  For a moment I considered stopping at Starbucks for tea and some sort of sugar delivery system but decided to ride home where I could wrap my feet tightly in warm blankets.  Good thing too since my feet were almost on fire in a decidedly cold way when I arrived.

Preparations for First Night are underway with an assortment of ice sculptors practicing their craft.  The weather will be more cooperative this year with a bit of cold to keep the ice in good shape for a few days.

So I’m left wondering if I’m driven by a passion to make photographs, and strong desire to ride, or if some other psychological mechanism is at work.  Many riders tell me they enjoy riding, it’s fun and exciting.  This ride wasn’t fun by any definition I use and I don’t think I derived any enjoyment.  I can say the same thing about photography — it’s neither a hobby or an activity to have fun.  In riding and photography I’m driven by something else.  It’s work, at times a burden, but I need to do it.

Something to think about as the year comes to a close…