Scooter in the Sticks

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

The (Potential) High Cost of Riding

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Various views of John’s skull

My friend John underwent another surgery on his leg yesterday, a bone graft to fill a piece of bone that was missing as a result of his motorcycle accident last October. The surgery went well and to his surprise was an outpatient procedure. John’s recovery has been slow and frustrating at times but he is coming around. I know a lot of you have asked or wondered how he has been doing and when a recent dispatch arrived from John the other day I thought it would be a good time to share it. All the pictures displayed in this post are courtesy of John.

I also thought it serves as a good reminder to anyone venturing out on two wheels to do so with open eyes and be aware of the potential risk and that each of us should do what we can to manage them. And accidents are just that — accidents.

John is a serious rider putting thousands of miles on his BMW. He’s seen below just before departing for New Mexico on an Iron Butt ride.


Always the comedian he is pictured below with his new ride.


Anyways, if you want to read John’s latest dispatch that he prepared and distributed in a Microsoft Word document you can download it HERE.

I must warn you that it is graphic in its display of his injuries. John retells the medical story of his stubborn leg wounds and treatment complete with color photos, X-rays, the works. But mixed in throughout the story is his humor and indomitable spirit.

The Black Sabbath Ride

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It rained on and off all day. From my office window I could see the sky change shades of gray. I find this kind of weather and light transforms what I see and how I feel. And it felt great to be riding without concern for snow or ice. As I rode home from work an old memory of a Black Sabbath album cover came to mind. I remember how fascinated I was with that picture.

I embrace the dim eeriness of the foggy dusk both as a rider and photographer. If I didn’t have things to do I would have stayed out longer. Instead another commute home from work.

Riding in a Winter Respite

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Stepping outside in the dark this morning to take the dog out got my tail wagging too. It was warm! A balmy 39° F. Who cares if it was dark and raining because after many days of ice and sleet and freezing rain the weather spirits opened their arms to the commuting rider.

It was a wet, damp ride but just felt good to be on the road.

Just Another Ride to Work

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In warm weather riding the Vespa to work is automatic. The only time I don’t is when I need to haul gear or people. In winter I make a quick assessment of road surface and mental state before making a decision. This past Thursday morning everything was aligned for scooter departure.

I chose a longer route to work to allow the battery to get a good charge. I don’t use a battery tender because so far my riding frequency seems to be sufficient. The recent addition of electric gloves has me wondering but so far so good. I suppose if the battery is going to die it will be 50 miles from home at 10º F.

Riding continues to create a hyper-awareness of my surroundings that is difficult to find while driving a car. I probably would not have seen the deer along the road while driving. I’m just cut off from the world by steel and glass. Looking at the deer I realized I don’t consciously watch for deer while riding. I watch for everything. Everything in front and back, left and right. Things come into focus in a continual processing of sensory information.

The ride to work was routine. The weather forecast called for snow showers late in the day but I assumed I would be home before they arrived. At 2:30 PM I saw the first snowflakes falling outside my office window. When I walked to the Vespa at 4:30 PM I found it covered in snow. The roads were still mostly wet with a bit of intermittent greasy slush.

Plans to travel across farm lanes when I realized that snow was accumulating too quickly to comfortably handle the steep grades in a few places. I wandered home on back roads and kept a careful eye on speed and road surface.

The local limestone quarry always looks good in the snow and I couldn’t resist stopping for a picture. The wet snow is surprisingly slick and I had to work a bit to get the scooter back onto the road even with all the gravel under the tires.

Various amounts of snow accumulated as can be seen in the curve in the above photograph. Easily negotiated but a potential disaster for a careless rider traveling too fast for conditions and assuming the road is merely wet.

I arrived home safely, brushed the snow and slush from the Vespa before parking it in the garage, and joined Kim for a cup of hot tea. Watching the snow out the front window warm and snug after just another ride home from work.

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.