Scooter in the Sticks

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

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.

Riding Through the Spring Thaw

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A day off work demanded a ride. Heavy rain from the previous night along with snow melt caused flooding throughout the valley. Had that moisture arrived tonight with sub-freezing temperatures we would be looking at 30 inches of snow.

I chose small mountain roads to explore and celebrate the thaw, the approach of spring, and warmer riding weather. Even with earplugs and helmet I could still hear the water roaring down the mountain.

The roads were wet and covered with gravel in places but it didn’t matter. I was happy to putt along and see the sights. No interest in carving curves and all that stuff.

I’ve convinced myself that winter is finished but in the back of my head I know that there have been winters that dropped three feet of snow in mid-March. Present in the picture above is another sign of spring — as I tromped through the brush to shoot it I was thinking about ticks and Lyme Disease — something that one doesn’t worry about in a real winter. Give me a rattlesnake any day.

Riding across the valley was a challenge because of the strong wind. I thought it would knock the scooter down before I could run out into the field to make the picture. The Vespa stayed upright despite shaking on its center stand.

The wind, cold, and dampness did drive me on — right into the Pump Station Cafe for hot tea and some grub. Any good ride ends this way for me. Sometimes it ends more than once.

Why I Don’t Ride In Winter

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At the sound of the alarm my body doesn’t rally into the day like it once did. The cold air before the furnace comes to life makes seems unbearable. It’s 57 degrees in the bedroom but 25 outside. If I have trouble facing the house is it any wonder that riding in winter makes no sense?

I do ride through the winter but the transition from sleep to awake, from indoors to outdoors, from not riding to riding is a terribly high hurdle. Homeostasis works overtime on me. It is a reason I don’t ride more in winter.

The Vespa idled in the driveway before work. Clear skies, cold air, and a bit of time before needing to be at work.

Once I get moving I’m fine. Happy. Ecstatic even. But heaven help me through the transition. The roads were clear save for gravel and salt residue. Turning off the road onto a snow covered farm lane for a short detour was short lived. The Pirelli tires are absolutely useless in snow. After riding (pushing) the Vespa a short ways it occurred to me that my energy would be better used elsewhere.

At the end of the day I feel the same transition challenge to get myself out the door. Once on the Vespa things improve and I decide to ride home another direction.

Riding along on more heavily trafficked roads is a mixed blessing. More cars to deal with but I get a sick sense of thrill knowing I am not sitting behind the wheel.

Anyways, there are other more obvious reasons I don’t ride in winter — snow, ice, extreme temperatures. But the real riding killer is homeostasis. I get comfortable and have a hard time transitioning. Riding, diet, exercise, you name it. It’s a constant negotiation to get up and go, to take action. Action isn’t my middle name…

Still Cold, Scooter Still Starts, Still Riding

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Clear skies on Wednesday night allowed for excellent viewing of the lunar eclipse. And it meant I would be able to ride to work the next day despite temperatures in the single digits by daybreak. Before the eclipse I picked up a few things at Barnes and Noble (by car — it’s dark and cold and still slippery in places) and while the goodies are always good, they don’t possess the same magic when you sample them chilled to the bone from riding. Kim and I shared them at home.

The ride to work was lovely under clear blue skies and bright sun. No matter how cold it is sunshine always makes it more tolerable.

The ride home was uneventful despite taking a few twists and turns looking for mini-adventure. Almost all the snow was gone. A stop at the dairy store for a bottle of milk, a detour along a gravel road, a stop at an old barn. It only added a few minutes to the commute but nicely unwound a hectic day.

Snowing again this morning with predictions of sleet and freezing rain later in the day. I’m taking the bus. It will give me a change to finish up my second roll of black and white film for this week. The frame counter on the Leica is broken — has been for a couple years now so I never really know how many pictures are left. Another mystery in life…