Scooter in the Sticks

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

The Myth of Inspiration

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“There is no greater enemy to those who would please than expectation.

Montaigne

Inspiration is real. I just look for it in the wrong places. Or in the wrong way. And I hold onto an expectation that it will come if I just wait.

Sitting in the living room, watching the world through the picture window, has become seductively normal.  Life exists in that view, and the images, thoughts, and dreams that float through my head comprise my sedentary existence.  I began to suspect my inaction and lack of motion was responsible for the difficulty I was having in sitting down at the keyboard and writing.  Or doing much of anything else for that matter.

I sat waiting all summer for the myth of inspiration.

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Perfect Morning Vespa Ride

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Some rides are planned. Others are gifts. Like a perfect morning Vespa ride.

Vespa GTS scooter on a misty summer morning.
One of the great joys in my life; an early morning ride on the scooter.

Morning Magic

All the essential ingredients were there. On the road early with a cool mist in the air, no traffic, and relaxed in that unique way where absolutely nothing is bothering me. Sure, there’s a lot going on in my life with summer projects, desires, dreams, and concerns. But nothing is really bothering me. I suspect a morning Vespa ride plays its part.

Perfect.

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Morning Meditations

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dog in garden
Dogs enforce habits and rituals for their owners.

You Shall Not Pass

Morning meditations have become a daily ritual. One that didn’t come easy.

I’ve learned life is easier when I begin the day slowly.  It’s not a simple task because my mind is most active in the morning and I can be swept into action before I really have an idea of what I should be doing.  Or worse, jump on the merry-go-round of obsessive thinking, often on a subject I’ve given far too much attention.  Fortunately,  I have dogs who stand ready to stop me as they demand their fair share of the American dream.

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Gripped by Sadness

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A lone tree in an open field with a mountain ridge in the background.
Does this picture represent hope and possibility? Or the terrible feeling of isolation and hopelessness that can leave me gripped with sadness.

Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.

Buddhist Proverb

Being gripped by sadness is an awful state, but one that fades with riding and writing.

There exists two possible options when I write a blog post. The first and most simple is when I write about the experience and feelings during the actual ride pictured. And the second is when I write about other feelings triggered while looking at the pictures.

My friend Paul and I were headed to Kissell Motorsports for my Vespa’s annual Pennsylvania safety inspection.

It’s funny how different a photograph can look between the moment I made it and when I am writing about it. The sun is shining, birds are singing, there is food at hand, and money in my pocket. In terms of what’s required to survive in this world I want for nothing.

Yet I’m gripped by sadness.

The sweep of an open landscape can generate a sense of hope and possibility. Often, perhaps always, when I stop to make these kinds of photographs I feel a thrill. And I did on that morning. But looking at them now, influenced by the rattling chaos of life, I see none of that.

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Finding Balance with my Vespa Scooter

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Life over the past year was complicated by a pandemic, the relentless march of aging, and the seemingly endless tasks of daily life. My Vespa scooter helped ease the pain.

A view of a rural central Pennsylvania valley
I’m blessed to live in the hills, mountains, fields and forests of central Pennsylvania.

Surrendering the Fantasy

I’ve become more willing to accept that my life is in a continual, endless cycle of change. There was a time, decades in fact, that I struggled to keep things “under control,” the same, predictable, and unchanging. I was facing upstream in the rushing current of life until I finally raised the white flag of surrender and allowed the river to sweep me away.

And with that surrender came victory. A life in the flow. I’ll still find myself standing up to fight, but my Vespa scooter helps me accept the inevitable march of change. It blazes a path toward balance.

I used to judge riding by measures of quantity — how often I was on the road, how many miles I gathered, the number of experiences collected, how many photographs were made.  I would tell myself riding was a way of life, a manner of living, with the goal of always traversing the landscape on two wheels. I won’t lie, it was a seductive fantasy. But one I had to surrender like all the others in my life.

Standing in a farm field on my way to breakfast surveying the sweep of landscape that sums up the place I live, the mountains, fields, and forests of central Pennsylvania, I’m struck my the fact that I arrived with no plan or expectation other than a friend asked me if I wanted to ride to breakfast.

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