Scooter in the Sticks

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

A Brief Guide to Life

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Sitting in Café Lemont on their first day of business, — writing, eavesdropping on conversations, and enjoying a bacon, zucchini and bacon frittata with my Earl Grey tea. Life is moving slowly and slowing down is part of my plan.

I subscribe to Zen Habits, a blog promoting simplicity, something I’ve been chasing for decades and I am happy to report it remains as elusive now as it did when I was writing in my journals back in 1972. I’m still in the hunt.

A recent post on Zen Habits titled a brief guide to life distilled the chase into a short list, one I have looked at a lot lately. I’m reminded again how the simple things seem to be the hardest for me.

Café Lemont is a nice place. Quiet, relaxed, no music. Yet. The sort of environment where I can think. Rare in a noisy world. You meet people in places like this. Karen and Richard (apologies for my decaying memory if it’s really Robert). Karen follows Scooter in the Sticks and recognized the yellow and black jacket. Richard is a Vespa rider, or was until his scooter had an unfortunate meeting with a deer just down the road. A road where I’ve come close to meeting deer on several occasions.

MEMO TO SELF: Slow down on that road.

We talked about the accident, about scooters, and Karen’s desire to possess one of the new Espresso/Bronze-colored Vespa LX150ie scooters.

I’m glad the list doesn’t say “less riding”. It does say less driving so I’m ok on that point. I know how to rationalize.

A Vespa suits my personal strategic initiative of going slowly and keeping things simple. And it yields dividends of solitude, play, and smiles. In a car I probably wouldn’t notice the blue, portable toilets and probably never would stop to make a picture. I’d just miss the odd juxtaposition of form and color. Does it matter? For me noticing little details, stopping, and making pictures charges my internal batteries. It lets me chew on the moment. And it only costs a few minutes time on the way home from work. The scooter has managed to help me pry open one door on the way towards simplicity.

At the café I talk with a Distinguished Professor at Penn State who I’ve known for over 35 years. I see an entomologist I photographed a few weeks ago while he managed honey bee hives situated on a green roof on campus. And I overheard stories of avalanches and helicopter rides home from school from a mathematician and teacher who grew up in Alaska.

A fine morning.

Almost home I stop to admire the sky and the light at the end of the day. Another picture. And I think about the list. There is more work ahead.

I take a deep breath and smile.

Riding Tired

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Summer is not my favorite season to ride. Heat, sweat, and abundant vehicles on the road just makes me tired. Mentally and physically. Judging by the number of motorcycles and scooters out this time of year I suspect my dis-embrace of summer puts me in the riding minority.

Photographically I’ve always found clear sunny days difficult to connect with. I stopped to make this picture because it reflected my ideas of summer being devoid of mystery. The camera gains weight when the temperature rising above 80F making it difficult to pick up and use.

A ride to Bellefonte to have breakfast with a friend feels ordinary. The passing clouds, beautiful in themselves, don’t trigger the same reactions as rain, fog, cold or a heavy, gray landscape. I should learn to be grateful for the day I suppose regardless of the package it arrives in.

But I just feel tired. Too tired to get the hammock out of the attic for a nap in the backyard.

Maybe if I were more social summer would be different. Stopping after work at the neighborhood chocolate store I consider the riders sitting outside at Duffy’s Tavern. They don’t look tired. I make a note and move on to purchase something to accompany my evening tea.

A stop at the grocery store on the way home from work. It’s hot and I have more groceries than I can easily pack in and on the Vespa. There is a whole roasted chicken in a big plastic container. Had to have that. And four more bags. I’m hot and I’m tired as I begin to solve the packing puzzle.

The roads are packed with students and their families as they move into town for fall semester. With cars everywhere I realize tired is not the best state of mind for a rider. Pushing open the visor the rush of air loosens my eyes and stiffens the spine. Mentally the rider dial turns to high and at least for the ride home any feelings of being tired evaporate.

At home, sitting in the garden, watching the sky through the tops of tall fir trees I dream of cooler weather and for me, the start of the riding season.

Motorcycles as Experienced by a Vespa Rider

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Thanks to a wonderful opportunity extended by Craig Kissell of Kissell Motorsports I’ve been able to share my experiences riding the latest BMW, Triumph, Ducati, Vespa and Piaggio motorcycles and scooters from the perspective of a committed scooter rider. If you’re currently riding a scooter or small motorcycle and plan to move up to something bigger maybe these will help.

Sons of Anarchy

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This post began simmering in my brain after reading a post on 2 Stroke Buzz titled A Minivan for your Testicles. Kim and I have been watching the FX show called Sons of Anarchy — a soap opera on the drama within and around an outlaw biker gang in California.

There is a special kind of macho surrounding bikers. While I’m not sure how many there are anymore (List of the Top 10 Biker Gangs in the USA) you see a lot of the biker style on the road. And riding a Vespa certainly doesn’t fit in that style. And when I saw the picture associated with A Minivan for your Testicles it got me thinking of all the good natured and not so good-natured ribbing I’ve gotten from other riders about the manliness of a scooter.

The picture below says it all.


The look and style certainly fits with the idea of a minivan. I have my own little minivan. I never realized I had a style.

And I agree, a scooter is just as dangerous as a motorcycle. Woe to those riders in shorts and flip-flops who feel there’s no need for a helmet because they’re on a scooter. And so I come back to the Sons of Anarchy.

The images and styles reflect on the TV show reflect our collective consciousness of biker gangs. Almost. The producers have carefully put helmets on all the bikers. So the image is a bit watered down though not to the level of the Black Widows in Every Which Way But Loose where Clint Eastwood and his ape are pursued by some bad bikers.

Image is one thing though. The real message is in a rider’s actions. And as simple and obvious as this seems to me it doesn’t seem to be the driving force behind what makes for a good, macho ride.

I’m sort of pissed to find out that I purchased a minivan without even knowing it. No wonder I get no respect on the road.

The Demon Within

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Kim made this picture of me one evening at the Arboretum at Penn State. I thought it appropriate for this post.

There comes a point where training and experience yield to human nature. Or more pointedly: human failure. The world of the demon that whispers of appropriate action and choice. Viewed later, from the comfort of an armchair with a cup of Earl Grey tea, choices can seem positively stupid. And so we begin.

Perhaps there’s no more honest reflection of a person’s true character than on the road where masks and facades seem to shed easily. Employers wanting to know who they are hiring should conduct interviews in a car and have applicants drive them on errands through a few frustrating locations to see who emerges.

If asked how I would describe myself as a rider (or driver) I would say calm, relaxed, slow. Arriving at work and parking on a quiet summer campus definitely helps support those feelings and while generally true I have my moments. The demon whispers and I do things that are less than intelligent.

On my way to Barnes and Noble last week on I was reacquainted with weakness. Traveling along on a busy stretch of four lane road I could seen a silver SUV weaving through traffic in my mirror. I wondered why they were in such a hurry. They’ll just end up sitting at the next traffic light. I don’t remember the demon whispering but I was gauging opportunities to educate the SUV driver. I’m in the left lane on the Vespa slowly approaching a car in the left lane. Traffic is moving around 35mph. The SUV has just moved into the right hand lane in a bid to pass me on and then swing around the car. Not far ahead is a traffic light. As if I am in a chess game I adjust the throttle to move ahead a bit faster. A man in the SUV approaches quickly still hoping to pass me. He’s closing on the bumper of the car trying to decide if he can get between the car and the Vespa. There’s room but just barely. My fingers have crawled over the brake levers. And just as it seems he’s going to try the car’s brake lights come on and we’re all stopped at the traffic light.

My brain hasn’t recognized how stupid or dangerous game I’m playing. I’m teaching now, providing someone else with an opportunity to see the error of his driving ways. Where does this kind of thinking come from? I’m not riding through the woods or stopping to make a picture in a stand of pines. I’m in fantasy world.

The light changes and we’re all off. I move a bit faster than the car and when it seems I’ll pass the car the SUV swings in behind me. The car keeps accelerating and begins moving ahead. The SUV swings back right hoping to get past everyone as he drives just inches from the car in front of him. The gap widens slowly. I can see his eyes flashing in his side mirror, his brain working to calculate the space needed to pass as the car suddenly slows and I move up ahead. The car speeds up again and I wonder if he is playing this game too. Or maybe he’s just suggesting the SUV get off his ass. Or for me to get the hell out of the game.

All this has happened in less than a mile. The SUV is again right on the bumper of the car willing him to speed up. I sense something is about to happen and move left in my lane and roll off the throttle slightly. The SUV explodes left, passes the car, and veers back to the right lane, hits the brakes and immediately turns off the road and into a McDonalds parking lot. I look over and see the driver queue up for the drive up window. He was obviously not the brain surgeon on his way to emergency surgery that I sometimes use to excuse reckless behavior on the road.

Notice it’s all about the other guy.

This brings me to my point. The behavior of other drivers is not something for me to fix. They are a changing constant on the road to be managed and nothing else. Education and justice is the realm of others. Nothing anyone does is an excuse for me to listen to the demon. What would I have lost by letting the SUV pass?

One morning on the way to work I stopped to pick up a sandwich for lunch. Standing on the sidewalk I saw my scooter reflected against the Karate Kid poster and it got me thinking about practice and learning. I need to do some further work as a rider.

Thankfully, the event is atypical and not a pattern. But even once is too many. As I grow as a rider I’m learning that the attitude I bring to the road is just as important as the technical skills. For me, dismissing the demon is the place to improve my riding.

Have you conquered the demon?