Scooter in the Sticks

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

Simple Living and the Pink Bike

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Record fuel prices and evidence of an expanding waistline brought my old Schwinn Mirada bicycle into the light. When concerns related to riding a Vespa and its affect on masculine appearances are directed toward me they fall on the deaf ears of a man who has ridden a pink bike since the 1970’s. For the two months that Scooter in the Sticks has been dormant I’ve continued to ride and think about things that come up on the road. Not always the typical topics. Of late I have been thinking more and more about ways to simplify my life. Reduce the noise and confusion attendant with too much stuff and too much to do with no hope of creating more time in a day.

The Vespa is a model of simplicity as a transportation vehicle. It’s reliable, well made, stingy with fuel, and simple to operate. Being plain fun to ride is gravy. Economics aside it epitomizes simple transport and is surpassed in my mind only by walking or a bicycle. As it turns out I’m not ready to sign on to the pink bike as my primary mode of transport.

Riding the Vespa focuses my attention on what’s happening — what’s in front of me and around me. It strips away all or most of the noise in my head as my brain focuses on what I need to do to ride safely. That kind of clarity is a gift. On the way home from the video store on Friday night I pulled off the road to look at the clouds after the sun had set. In that moment everything was simple and quiet. Those kind of Vespa moments make it easy to differentiate what is important and what is noise.

I’ve been reading about the 100 Things Challenge. A challenge to reduce the number of personal possessions to 100. The thought is daunting. The amount of stuff I have accumulated is depressing. Thinking about all the things piled in the garage, basement, and attic felt like a huge millstone around my neck. It’s always there to be dealt with, organized, cared for, and managed. And most of it is never used. Some has never been used. Items or consumption that at one point in time I thought I could not live without. I think about this when I ride. On the road life is simple. I just want to extend that throughout my life.

The Reappearance of Posts

For the past two months I have read a lot of comments and references to the termination of Scooter in the Sticks. It was never my intent to terminate, merely to retreat for a while to focus on other things. And as things developed I would post again. I’m not sure how often but I prefer to think of Scooter in the Sticks as more indolent.

Anyways, it’s been a nice vacation.

Secret Places in the Ordinary

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I have driven or ridden by this place for over 25 years and never saw it.  It’s a small ravine surrounded by trees in the middle of a farm field.  An ephemeral stream that runs into a grotto and disappears.  This place lives in the spring and vanishes as the world dries and the weeds grow up to hide it’s secrets.  I’ve literally spent weeks of my life in this specific area but never managed to stop and walk into the trees to see what was hidden within.  The extent of my blinders never fails to amaze me.

This morning I had time for a short brisk ride under gray skies.  I chose a wet mud and stone road running along powerlines to explore.  I try and bring fresh eyes to places but what I see depends on where my head goes.  Thoughts of what I wanted to do today keep me from the empty mind that often works best when riding and making photographs.

A few miles down the road I decided that I really should get home and process film for my 3 Prints Project.  One last picture in the woods and I turned around to take a lazy ride home.

Riding through town I stopped to take one picture to demonstrate that there is some civilization in the sticks.  I’ve read a few references to Scooter in the Sticks lately that wonder aloud if there are any people or towns around.  Indeed there are and the pictures here are merely a representation of the places I’m drawn to.  Without much effort I bet I could produce Scooter in Hell with all the necessary traffic, bad roads, ugly places needed to convince someone how nasty it is to ride here.
I just try and make sure that I don’t let the nastiness overwhelm the beauty that is all around and right in front of me.

The Plain Ride

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My rides are ordinary and often uneventful. If I don’t pay attention they can be boring.

Reading through a variety of motorcycle and scooter blogs the other day I realized that my rides are pretty plain. Nothing I do as a rider is beyond the reach of an enthusiastic beginner. I don’t push the performance envelope and I don’t ride long distances. My rather conventional use of the scooter for transportation and Sunday rides in the country have more in common with an Amish Buggy than the motorcycles and scooters I often read about. I’ve recently read about Matua’s plans for a 30 thousand mile ride crisscrossing North America as part of his Vespadition project to promote kindness, compassion and volunteerism. Or Sojourner’s plans to ride in the South and address some fears and cognitive dissonance. I don’t undertake adventures like that. Perhaps someday but for now my riding is confined to commuting to work and the longer exploration as time permits. My riding world is closer to home and I have found that if I pay close attention, really look at what is around me, that those plain rides are new almost every time.

This morning I made a short detour before riding to work. Fog and mist seldom fail to excite my imagination and I covet any time I can spend in it. It was cold and damp though and the steady sprinkle had my hands soaked and aching in no time. The Gerbing Electric Gloves stayed stored away since they aren’t waterproof. Rides like this are akin to walks through a familiar park. If I pay attention each visit reveals new secrets.

The camera helps with revelations. Standing at the edge of the forest looking at the digital image on the back of the camera I was reminded of how much I like to be alone. Need to be alone. I take my solitude in large measures if I can. Each time I read about group rides and events I tell myself I should participate someday. Then I ride on alone.

On the way home from work I made a few more small detours that would bring me along a few open vistas. I stopped to make this picture of the gray sky overhead. I was surprised how insignificant the Vespa seemed in the landscape. I was careful managing that insignificance in the eyes of other drivers as I made my way home. Another plain ride.

Gray Skies, Cheap Fuel, and Mud

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An odd mixture adds up to fun on the Vespa. Wasn’t sure what the weather would be like when I crawled out of bed but a quick look out the window had me reaching for my Tourmaster riding pants. A quick shower, a walk with the dog to inspect the garden, a few dog biscuits and a fast wrestle in the livingroom was all I had to do before rolling the Vespa out and heading down the road. First stop was the ATM for some cash. Second stop was my favorite Sunoco station to fill up the tank with high octane fuel. The Vespa never fails to impress me at the pump. Paying for $5.24 of gas is so much nicer than the typical $56.00 for the Ford Ranger.

With little traffic on a Sunday morning I was heading down the valley with a long, looping ride in mind. Even though the temperature was a reasonably warm 42° Fahrenheit I still wore the Gerbing Electric Gloves. My hands have hardly uttered a complaint all winter. Stopping to make the above picture I gazed at the mountain side and the snow still draped along the ridge wondering if the mountain roads would be freeze of ice. They can get pretty bad and I remembered driving a Jeep down one shaded road once with the driver side door open so I could jump out before the thing went over the edge and into a ravine. Unexpected ice covered roads on a steep incline were too much for a Jeep without chains or studs. No reason to tempt fate with the Vespa.
With the snow mostly gone, lots of rain, and slowly warming temperatures the fields look as if they are ready to spring to life. Before leaving this morning I saw lots of green pushing up out of the ground. In a few more weeks the world will be a different place.
Riding across the valley I had the road to myself. I still pay close attention for traffic though especially when I stop to make a picture. With the helmet still on and earplugs in I really need to rely on my vision because I’m not going to hear tire noise creeping up on me. Snow was still piled along the roads in wooded areas that don’t get the wind to help with evaporation.
Ever the master of good choices I choose a dirt road to explore. Make that mud. It wound through one of the larger State Gamelands but it wasn’t much fun pushing the scooter so much. And the Pirelli tires are just worthless in mud. I managed less than a mile before my mind (and stomach) suggested I head towards an eating establishment for breakfast.
I stopped at the Pump Station for a Jump Start — eggs, bacon, and cheese on a bagel, and some orange juice. It’s nice and just sit alone and watch the world go by. At times like that I don’t have a care in the world. I couldn’t pass up a picture of the buffalo clock. There was one with a horse too I think but the buffalo caught my fancy. It’s been a few years since any of those roamed naturally here.

It was a short Sunday morning ride. Maybe 35 miles. Warm weather and months of things falling from our trees meant I needed to start raking and getting ready for the rush of new growth. It’s good honest work. As I type now just about all body parts are crying. I’m either getting old or out of shape in ways I cannot imagine. Riding just isn’t much in the way of physical exercise. Maybe if I had kept on that mud road things would be different…

26 Degree Morning, 53 Degree Evening

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Walking the dog before leaving for work found me in crisp air under clear skies. The sun hadn’t sweep through the yard yet but promised to warm the 26º F temperature during the day but not before I would ride to work. The Vespa idled quietly along the road while I made one last picture.

My commutes of late have been uneventful. A trip from point A to B. Simple. Predictable yet satisfying in a way a non-rider, Vespa or otherwise, just won’t understand. I’m tempted to draw analogies but there really isn’t anything appropriate.

With the arrival of spring (soon, I see daffodils pushing through the ground) I expect to see more and more motorcycles on the road. At least as many as one would expect in the Sticks. For those of you riding in Pennsylvania you may want to check out Ken Hull’s new book GOING LOCAL. Ken is a local artist who lives down the road from me and regularly rides his 1994 Harley Davidson Sportster. I’ve even seen him out on the road this winter. His book details his experiences riding to just about every central Pennsylvania eating establishment available to a rider. His review and commentary are fun and he has indicated places where I ride regularly that I never knew existed. So check out the book on his Web site GOING LOCAL.

By the time I left work and headed into town the temperature was a balmy 53º F. If I only had time to really get out and enjoy a long ride. Why is it that opportunity and circumstance so often team up against a rider?

By the time I left town it was dark but still 53 degrees. Cold air on the surrounding hills drains down to the floor of the valley and I can always expect it to be colder on the way home. I can even predict the exact spot where I will feel the river of cold air moving across the road. This ride was no different and by the time I got home the air temperature was 43 degrees. Still a warm and balmy experience.

As the Vespa click and snapped in the driveway relaxing in the cool air before being pushed into the garage I just stood in the yard looking up at Orion in the clear sky. It just doesn’t get much better.