Scooter in the Sticks

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

Without a Map

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My version of GPS is written on a plain index card. The night before I left on a ride last Monday I poured over the Pennsylvania Atlas looking at places I haven’t explored and made cryptic notes on the card so I would have a general idea of where to go. Paul was riding with me on his Kawasaki Concours and the plan was to ride south to Huntington to a diner for breakfast. Unfortunately my index card didn’t inform me it had been bulldozed to make way for a Rite-Aid. But who needs help finding a place to eat breakfast anyway?

The ride to the diner was through familiar territory though we did take a few new roads that weren’t on the route scribbled on my card, one that had a nice view of the Little Juniata River winding through the countryside.

Even when I have no idea where I am I always know that I will emerge onto a road that is. Being lost in the East if more a figment of imagination than anything based in reality. At least in the manner that I describe lost. And there are always new things to see. Stopping for a picture gives Paul a chance to do a bit of back maintenance.

After breakfast we head south to pickup a road that will take us across the Juniata River. As we crossed the railroad tracks the signal begins to flash and I do a quick U-turn with the Vespa to take a picture of the train. I can see at least a half-mile in either direction and no train is in sight. After waiting five minutes the signal stops and the gates go up. So much for the train. As soon as I fire up the scooter the signal goes off again. Same thing, no train.

I forgot to point out that the temperature by 11AM was approaching 70 degrees. This in on January 7th. Winter in Pennsylvania. I felt like a tourist stopping to take pictures at all the scenic overlooks.

A GPS system only works if you pay attention to it. The same applies to the index card. And it doesn’t help much to pull it out of your pocket when you are 25 miles past a turnoff. I had a general idea of the direction we needed to go and with the sky clear and the sun out I knew where the compass points were to we rode on making a larger than planned loop through some of the southern coal regions of Pennsylvania and over more mountains until we got back on course. I was able to ride my scooter right off the road through the grass back to this overlook. The larger and less maneuverable Concours had to wait on the pavement.

At the top of one mountain was a cell tower and our first coverage in quite awhile. I stopped to call home and let Kim know where we were and when to expect us home and Paul paused to do a little ebay business on his iPhone. He is trying to convince me that I could do Scooter in the Sticks with one. I think I might have to wait until Photoshop is available for the iPhone.

I was able to look back across the valley towards the southern end of Raystown Lake, one of the two big federal flood control projects that resulted in major bodies of water. This one has no horsepower limits so in the summer it is a nightmare of noise and speed. A friend and I canoed its length once and trying to cross from one side to the other was frightening. But that’s another story.

We still had another 80 miles to go before we would be home but were in familiar territory again. A stop for lunch, another to examine a Black Locust tree (another story), and a few more side adventures before riding onto a freshly opened segment of Interstate 99. Paul was kind by keeping his speed to 65 MPH so I could keep up as the highway rose and fell along the mountain.
We got home with another 167 miles on the odometer. No map, no GPS, just a partially utilized index card. And we were fortunate to be able to take advantage of unseasonably warm weather. It didn’t last long though. Temperatures are going down again and there is still plenty of time for winter to really visit.

Resolving for the New Year…

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To make some changes. Changes to Scooter in the Sticks. Changes in other areas of my life. This is the time of year where many people, myself included, take stock of things and resolve to make life different — better.

It snowed last night — walking the dog at 3AM on trackless streets with large, heavy snowflakes falling hard transformed my neighborhood into something right out of “It’s a Wonderful Life”. I kept waiting for someone to run past screaming “Hello you beautiful scooter rider!” By the time I woke up this morning it was 10:30 and the snow had melted from the roads though I did manage to find an abandoned farm to further experiment with snow riding. I’m always pleased with how the Vespa GTS presents itself in pictures.

Resolutions don’t mean much without action. That missing element may explain why diet and exercise continue to show up on my resolution list year after year. Something new has caught my attention and has been turning for months in my head in an embryonic, pre-cognitive state until just a few days ago during my two-week holiday I realized I always seem to be in a hurry. Always in a rush.

On the way to the grocery store for supplies to supplement the sauerkraut cooking in the crock pot I stopped in town to take a look at the ice sculptures that are part of the First Night festivities.

Ice carvers were putting finishing touches on a variety of art ice from George Washington to a royal throne. Cold weather helps keep things looking good unlike previous years where rain and 60 degree temperatures made the ice work quite ephemeral.

Even though I have been visiting Tim Hodgens’ blog I Will Rush No More for a long time the idea just wasn’t sinking in that I was a rushing fool. I figured since I was riding a scooter I couldn’t possibly be rushing. As I think about a resolution to quit rushing the magnitude of it is unnerving. It means some big changes and probably eliminating some things. But I’m ready. I’m tired of the old “the faster I go the behinder I get” routine.

I could not resist attempting to follow the farm lane in the first picture out along the field and across to a paved road a mile or so in the distance. The ground was pretty solid and the snow not too deep so off I went. The tires failed me on a very slight incline of snow on grass. Just no traction at all so I had to abandon the journey. I can only hope I have better traction with my resolutions.

Bringing Home the Christmas Tree

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It’s now a tradition — bringing home the Christmas tree on the back of the Vespa. I can’t help but think of Clark Griswold in the Christmas Vacation movie driving to get a tree in the woods for an old fashion family Christmas. I may have even sung a carol or two on the way home.

The tradition’s continuation was still in question that morning. Kim and I were talking about alternatives to a tree, it was getting late in the season, and we just weren’t sure. Sitting in Starbucks enjoying a pre-holiday breakfast of tea and chocolate marble cake I decided to ride to the Tait Farm for a tree.

Business was slow on a weekday this close to Christmas so I had the place pretty much to myself. A few people were wandering around looking at trees and decorations. With the temperature in the upper 30’s the melting snow made the fields a little sloppy so I decided to buy a pre-cut tree rather than wander around with a saw and cut my own. Waiting patiently among the pines and spruces was a lovely six and a half foot Douglas Fir.

It didn’t take long to strap the tree to the rear rack and start towards home. While there weren’t a lot of people at the farm there was a lot of traffic on the road (US 322) running past the place. It’s a main artery between Interstate 80 and points south through Central Pennsylvania and thick with trucks and cars. I wanted to take a more rustic and relaxed path home — to the right I would find a nice gravel road but with no winter maintenance it would likely still be covered with snow and ice. To the left just a half mile down the road I could turn off and ride through a golf course and into a quiet valley that would lead me home. I waited until I could see a big gap in traffic and made a beeline towards the golf course. With the tree on the back I couldn’t go much faster than 45 MPH without the tree beginning to shake. I could see a line of tractor-trailers bearing down on me in my rear-view mirrors. By the time I made the turnoff they were only a hundred feet behind me and coming fast. Ho. Ho. HO!

Once in Brush Valley things were much more relaxed and I could ride along slowly and enjoy the scenery and sing a few bars of Let it Snow and I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas. Dean Martin or Bing Crosby I’m not. Having earplugs does enhance the singing of even a less than mediocre singer like me.

I didn’t go straight home. I wanted to find another present for Kim so I stopped at the soon to go out of business Federal House, a small gift shop with an eclectic collection of things. With everything at 75 percent off I purchased two 10 by 16 inch paintings mounted in ornate, rustic metal frames. No problem with transport on the Vespa — just strapped them down on top of the tree with a few more bungee cords.

I like Christmas and tradition is important. If you are looking to add one yourself you may want to consider hauling a Christmas tree home on the back of your scooter or motorcycle. It looks more imposing than it actually is. The tree weighs less than a passenger and when balanced correctly it doesn’t even take much to keep it attached. Keep the tree less than 9 feet in length and you won’t even be a wide load!

Decision Time: Snow is Falling

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When I looked out the window of my office yesterday at midday it was snowing. The temperature hovered at 32º F. It was just like last winter when I rode home in a snowy mess. I was taking the afternoon off, a few extra vacation days tacked on to the Christmas holiday. I had things to do and had to make a decision.

On went the gear and I found myself looking at the snow covered Vespa. The roads were wet but clear so I made a decision to ride.
Just in case the temperature dipped and snow would start to accumulate on the road surface I traveled home by roads less traveled where I could more easily set the pace without triggering any emotional displays from drivers intent on getting somewhere fast.
Snow continued to fall in large flakes and I enjoyed the transformation of the landscape under the soft light. Scenes like this are why riding in winter is so satisfying.
The roads remained clear until I got closed to home and the roads were more protected by tree cover and I suspect a bit colder. Strips of slush and snow grew larger and were quite slippery. I stopped several times to test the traction and the utility of the Pirelli tires on the Vespa GTS.
At best, their utility in this type of weather is marginal. The tread design doesn’t allow for an aggressive bite in snow and the rubber compound doesn’t retain the sticky traction qualities shown in warm weather. Careful riding, slow speeds, and continual planning make it possible to ride reliably in this sort of stuff.

The weather forecast doesn’t call for any snow until after Christmas so the riding should be fair at least until then. And I’m on vacation too. I wonder what I can do…

Winter Riding Blues

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It’s near midnight and I can hear the steady patter of sleet on the livingroom window. A fitting end to a gray day. And an even grayer week. The ice on the driveway hinted at better options than to go for a ride. I always need more concrete proof and was looking for something to drain the noise and chaotic energy of a busy and mostly rideless week. Beyond the driveway was a bare road, some salt residue, and only an occasional patch of ice. Perfectly manageable riding conditions.

The thermometer indicated 29° F when I pushed the Vespa out of the garage and carefully rolled it across the ice to a bare spot and started it up. After a short struggle to get over the heap of snow and ice left a couple days ago. More evidence that the tires on the scooter are not intended for much more than dry roads or wet pavement. But I really needed to be in motion, hoping a ride would strip away the disinterest and laziness I felt all week. I could tell from the difficulty I was having finding anything to pint the camera at that I was in the firm and solid grip of the winter blues.

The first stop I made was more to test the firmness and traction on the side of the road than any desire to make a picture. Standing on the ice I realized I just wanted to go home, curl up on the couch and go to sleep. Anything but be on the road. I want to believe I’m not alone in these feelings. That riding loses its luster from time to time.

Not motivated to keep going and not ready to throw in the towel either I continued to ride. After a few errands I rode to the ski slopes at Tussey Mountain. To the casual driver the roads were clear and dry but to someone on a scooter or motorcycle they were dry with sudden small patches of ice in random and unpredictable places. The only prudent response was to slow down and scan the road surface close to the Vespa carefully.

Watching the skiers and snowboarders taking advantage of the modest snow on one of the runs I got to see the results of loss of grip and traction in the snow. The Vespa has no edge to dig into the slippery stuff.

It was cold even though I have ridden in much colder weather. The foggy picture of my late breakfast at the Pump Station results from the sudden exposure of a cold lens to warm air offers some indication of the temperature.

It’s late and time for bed. Tomorrow is another day and perhaps the winter blues will move on as the snow and sleet are predicted to do. I guess the Vespa can’t do everything.