Scooter in the Sticks

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

Fall Ruby Ride

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I made this portrait of my friend and sometimes riding partner during a ride this past Sunday. I had a good time and realized he has to be pretty patient not only to ride along with a scooter, but with a rider that stops all the time to make pictures. Paul Ruby is a photographer in his own rite but doesn’t find his subjects rolling along the roads of Central Pennsylvania the way I do. So here’s a short dispatch from a Fall Ruby ride.

A man casts a sideways glance our way as Paul talks loudly about baking the perfect chocolate cake from scratch. I see the man gesturing to his girlfriend as Paul explains the careful observational skills necessary to accurately use a toothpick to determine when the cake is done.

We’re sitting at the counter of the Family Chill and Grill near Tyrone, Pennsylvania. While we eat a hearty breakfast of bacon, eggs, and home fried potatoes our small audience has a chance to see two serious riders. Me and my good friend Paul Ruby.

A few hours earlier I was waiting for Paul to buy a copy of the Sunday New York Times. It’s a prodigious paper and fills one saddle bag on his Kawasaki Concours.

Papered and ready to go we head south out of town along Whitehall Road. Even though the landscape was plain and made more so by the bright light I just had to stop to pose the Vespa against the dried field of soybeans.

With an equally plain subject presenting itself to Paul he takes out his camera and records me recording the scooter.

Not far down the road is another field of dreg pumpkins. This one didn’t appear to warrant harvesting. The dry weather made these poor prospects for Jack O’Lanterns. Again Paul turns the camera on me but I fight back with a picture of my own.

I think photographers enjoy being in front of the camera. We don’t often get to be the subject.

The road winds south through more farm and forestland. I stop often to look around and make snapshots.

The road runs close to the woods keeping it in shade and making the view of the long run of trees on the opposite side of the valley look even more brilliant.

Paul doesn’t just stand around waiting for me. He’s actively pursuing a flexible back and can be seen here doing one of his exercises. I do the same myself now and again but have not yet worshiped on the road.

The landscape opens and affords some nice views as we near Spruce Creek. Hills and valleys seem to just go on and on.

So do the roads. A bit further south takes us through an area where another group of Amish have settled.

They haven’t been here long enough to develop the kind of agricultural enterprises seen in other areas. Their places are plain and simple, conversions of farmsteads once belonging to the English. I don’t think I could ever been that connected to the land. I just want to keep moving and seeing.

Eventually we get to the Family Chill and Grill Restaurant for breakfast and the man and woman listening to Paul’s story about baking. From there it covers the Italian class he’s taking in preparation for a trip to Italy and then on to a discussion of scooters and motorcycles and how people think about minimum power necessary for riding, riding safely, and riding within their ego limits. But that’s for another post. We left to go home, each having our own chores to do but I suspect Paul had some complicated mechanical or cooking adventure ahead. This picture is just an example taken by his daughter as he wrestles with on of his vehicles.

Some of you might have seen Paul’s Ecletic Scooter Page that appears in my links list. But if you want to see something really eclectic check out his main page.

Another day of riding and a good time all around.

Evening Errands

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Tiresome, tedious errands by car are transformed into exquisite little adventures on the Vespa. Riding in the waning autumn light, taking in the fragrance of falling leaves, feeling the sudden chill in the air just after the sun goes down make each errand moment a pleasure.

I had to go to the ATM for cash, to the video store to return a movie, and then on to the bookstore. The six-mile direct route gave way to a 12-mile ramble executed at near bicycle speeds. Well, maybe Lance Armstrong speeds. Riding this way makes me a tourist in my own neighborhood.

By the time I got to Barnes and Noble to pick up a Sunday New York Times crossword puzzles book for Kim meant I could linger a bit at the dessert case of the café. I’m usually powerless in this area but managed to leave without any sugar purchases. The regret was so great though that I had to stop at a local coffee shop for a coconut chocolate chip scone.

The days continue to shorten and soon the after work errands won’t be possible in the same manner. Fading light will become darkness. Add much colder air and the trip palette is completely different. Not bad. Just different.

UPDATE ON TRAUMA 13

Talked with my friend John last night. He’s doing better and expects to be transferred from the hospital to a rehab facility later this week to begin the healing process for his leg. He says he plans to ride again but will have to wait and see what his leg will allow. We talked a bit about the accident but I post more at another time.

SCOOTERLESS

Left my Vespa GTS 250ie in the capable and caring hands of Kisselmotorsports in State College, Pennsylvania today for its 6000-mile service. For the past month or so I have been scribbling notes for a 6000-mile review. Stay tuned for that.

I have a few days off ahead and hopefully the Vespa will be back so I can take advantage of a few more fall days for riding.

Pumpkin Riding

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Traveling on a narrow gravel road southwest of town brings me past a pumpkin patch. This one definitely won’t be visited by Charlie Brown’s Great Pumpkin. Only the dregs remain – all the good pumpkins are loaded on a wagon just down the road. As a kid I loved this time of year best, at least until Christmas rolled around.

Riding is superb in late fall. The temperature drops far enough where I am not reminded every time I stop of the protective gear I’m wearing. And the light often is muted by a fall haze and slightly overcast skies making things easy on the eyes not to mention the emerging natural palette of reds, yellows, and oranges. No matter how great I think this time of year is for riding I know it’s not a universally held belief. This evening I listened to another rider planning battery tenders, fuel stabilizer, and the exact placement of his motorcycle in the garage. Any suggestion on my part of continuing to ride was met with the same incredulous look that accompanies a suggestion to keep the community pool past Labor Day. It’s just not done.

If owning a scooter or motorcycle means certain rules, customs, and standards are expected to be followed someone failed to send me the paperwork. I ride farther into the season because it makes sense. And over time the whole year has become riding season.

The coming weeks will bring dramatic changes to the landscape. The kind of changes that are interesting to see on two wheels. There’s nothing wrong with winterizing now if that makes sense but I have to wonder if some kind of mass hypnosis has taken hold of the riding community when it comes to this particular decision. Surrender to the weather seems to happen too easily.

Whatever a rider decides is right for them is all that matters. What works for me may be a terrible choice for someone else. The important thing is to make a choice yourself based on your own situation. This is one of those situations where tradition and custom fails.

Choices and decisions. That’s what Pumpkin Riding is all about.

Back in the Sticks

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The ride to work this morning after my trip to South Carolina was in the fog. It triggered thoughts about safety and vulnerable situations. Fresh memories of traffic on Interstate 95 and 81 had me questioning the judgment of my fellows on the highway. But it was a beautiful morning and those thoughts can wait for another time.

My daughter commented on my ability to see past the noise and find the empty places. On Myrtle Beach I watched her look for shells and made a picture not unlike some of those that appear on Scooter in the Sticks—spare, empty, alone. But you never know what is just out of the frame. Or behind me. She had a good chuckle when looking at the pictures I took.

I’ve gotten pretty good at overlooking or ignoring some things in the landscape.

Trauma 13

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While I was on my way to work under clear skies farther south in another valley my friend John was riding his BMW R100 to work in fog along a main artery for commuters. Shortly after 7AM his motorcycle slammed into a garbage truck that pulled into the road as he passed.

Emergency responders came to his aid quickly and took him to a local airport where he was flown to a trauma center. Upon arrival he was designated Trauma 13. Seeing that there is no room 13 in the Intensive Care Unit is was odd that there would be a patient designated Trauma 13.

John’s wife is an instructor for the Motorcycle Safety Foundation. She told me the visor of his helmet was completely covered with blood on the inside. You couldn’t see in. She arrived on the scene minutes after the accident. They didn’t know the rider’s identity but she recognized the pieces of his BMW. And the helmet. As I talked with her at the hospital she told me that she would be planning a funeral if he hadn’t been wearing a helmet.

The oral and maxillofacial surgeon showed us 3D images of his skull. As he manipulated the images to explain the damages it was unnerving to see how fragile everything looked. John was fortunate that the damage was minor. A black eye, a few hairline fractures, and only one small displacement in the bottom of the ocular socket.

John is a lifelong rider. He’s done the Iron Butt and cross country rider. He’s a daily commuter and wears all the gear. While the gear won’t prevent a collision it will help minimize potential damage. He was in and out of sleep when I visited and at one point he asked me where he was and if there was an accident. After briefly explaining the circumstances I told them they had to cut off his new Revit jacket. He responded with “Aww f**k!!!”. While the doctors already confirmed it I knew there were no brain injuries.

The worst damage occurred to John’s right leg that hit the truck door. Since the truck was pulling out into traffic to move to the next pickup he probably hit at a deflected angle which helped minimize damage but his femur was still in pieces and the patella shattered. Looking at the x-rays I thought about former Washington Redskin’s quarterback Joe Theismann’s leg break during a game with the New York Giants.

An orthopedic team will begin reconstruction Friday morning if the swelling has diminished. Their biggest concern at this point is infection since the bones breached the skin. The armored pants helped keep road dirt and grime on the outside. A pair of jeans would have things dragging through the dirt.

It’s sobering to visit a friend and fellow rider in a hospital. It’s hard not to switch places. It had me reassessing the risk. I haven’t ridden since but only because work has kept me in need of my Ford Ranger. I’ve thought a lot about being Trauma 13. And I know I’ll continue to ride.

John has a long recovery ahead but I suspect he’s already thinking about what to ride next.

Godspeed John.