Scooter in the Sticks

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

Riding a Vespa in the Rain

by 27 Comments

Vespa GTS scooter on a rainy landscapeRide long enough and you’ll eventually find yourself on the road, drenched and dreaming of home. Ride longer and you may find yourself dreaming of being drenched. This morning I rode away from the dry comfort of home into uncertain weather, a welcome break from endless days of sunshine and heat. The gray, dim morning– a reminder of cooler days ahead.

Vespa GTS scooter at the end of a drivewayThe forecast predicted scattered showers, at times heavy, for most of the morning. Knowing I would not be riding far I left the raingear in the garage and opted for the more casual comfort of once water resistant riding jacket and pants. And if things really got bad I could breakout the waterproof rain jacket stored in the top case. In six years I have used it twice.

Vespa GTS scooter on a bridge in the rainI have a few rules when riding in the rain.

The first is to become one with the road surface so I don’t become one with the road surface in a physical sense.
Every rain is different and so is the character of the pavement. With so little rain in the past couple months there is a lot of stuff on the road that gets slippery when mixed with water. A few stops to walk on the road, test the friction with my boots, I can get a sense of what to expect in terms of traction. It’s not perfect but does provide clues to how to behave.

Another rule is to slow down.
I’ve talked to more than a few riders who search for tires who offer perfect performance on wet pavement, preferring a technological fix for the weather rather than make mindful adjustments themselves. My personal belief is that no tire available will allow you to ride on wet roads like you do on dry ones. You just need to slow down, replace the desire to lean hard and power out of turns with one built around keeping the rubber side down.

Visibility – my own and my appearance to others.
I’ll stay on the road until the torrents interfere with my ability to see the road ahead. If visibility drops below a hundred yards or so I pull over and wait. And if I feel things are too hectic, or traffic too congested to place myself in a visible position, I’ll pull over and wait for conditions to improve.

The last rule I have is comfort.
I’ll ride wet but not cold. The moment I feel myself begin to focus on my body, the effect the weather is having on me, it’s time to stop and regroup. And I’ll stop as often as I need to. One of the advantages of riding alone—no one’s ego is in play dragging others on beyond their limits.

Vespa GTS scooter in a parking lotAnyways, I wasn’t going far. Breakfast was first on the agenda followed by finishing a post titled, Heat, Courage and the Jack Riepe Show. The breakfast part went without a hitch but the writing was delayed.

Superman comicSuperman won out over Riepe. I don’t often see comic books but when I do all bets are off. Someone left a nice one at Café Lemont that I could not pass up. It’s nice to sit with a comic book when a hard rain falls outside.

Vespa GTS scooter on gravel road after a clearing stormJust a slight drizzle was falling as I left Lemont on a looping ride around town. A short cut across some of Penn State’s pastureland always provides some amazing views of Mt. Nittany and the valley. Rain and mist make things magical.

Verbasum plantWatching the clouds pass, darkness in the distance, I wonder what brings me out on days that most riders choose to avoid. There was a time when I needed to prove something to myself. But now, I’m looking for something else. Maybe a more intense experience. A friend once suggested I’m a minor adrenaline junkie but my careful, deliberate approach tends to rule that out. Standing here, noticing all the details, I feel alive and on the earth. Maybe it’s as simple as that.

Vespa GTS scooter in heavy rainThe rain begins to fall hard on the way home. Water is pooled on my lap where the riding jacket forms a basin. Pelting water droplets feel like hundreds of little bee stings on my chest at 45mph. The jacket and pants are soaked through and water is running down my back. When I stop to make this picture I can barely see the LCD screen. Rain soaks the camera and I leave it on when I put it under the seat so the water on the lens barrel doesn’t migrate to the inside.

Vespa GTS scooter in rainAlmost home I stop for one last picture, a reminder of rain and light and wet rides. The risk and discomfort are far exceeded by the rewards of the ride.

Doubt, Foreboding and the Solitary Adventurer

by 29 Comments

Yesterday evening I took a little ride around the valley inspecting the landscape after a thunderstorm had rolled through.  Hardly an adventure compared to those souls who venture forth on long journeys lasting days and weeks through unknown places.

A recent post on Shreve Stockton’s (author of The Daily Coyote and Honeyrock Dawn) Vespa Vagabond blog discussed the challenges for riders who announce plans for adventures to friends and family and the ensuing resistance, doubt and anxiety it can arouse.  Her post titled An Interview of Sorts answers questions from a woman planning a trip across the United States on her Vespa.  It’s worth reading, especially for riders who’ve not ridden alone or gone on longer trips.

Stockton writes of her own solo cross country journey on her Vespa ET4, details, route planning, Vespa performance and such.  The most interesting part for me was when she described how those plans were received by the people you hope will support you in life.  She touches on fear of the unknown and the perceived danger that lies over the next hill.  Stockton responds to real concerns about personal safety and disaster in the following manner: “As for the true, valid, compassionate concern ~ my answer to this (to others and to myself) is that “the bad things” could happen anywhere.”

I think there is some freedom in those words for everyone worried about what might happen if they venture beyond their own backyard.

It’s an I wish I could speak from a place of vast experience crisscrossing the country on my Vespa about how I put aside misgivings and apprehensions about venturing forth alone on the road.  Unfortunately such is not the case.  My solitary adventuring has all taken place within a 200 mile radius of home and within a 24 hour period.

Perhaps someday time and circumstance will allow me my own big adventure.

Riding When the Rest of the World Doesn’t

by 13 Comments

A couple weeks ago I stopped on the way to work to put on an extra layer to keep the cold away from my tender flesh. Less than perfect weather does seem like a good reason to stop riding when minor fashion adjustments make flying down the road a pleasure. It must be too much of an adjustment for a lot of riders.

Here I am in Maine. Sustained winds of 25 knots are blowing in off the ocean with gusts up to 38 knots. That’s around 44 mph for non-nautical types. A fresh gale. Rain stings when it hits your face. It’s hard to walk. And you hope nothing comes flying off the beach in your direction.

Just like setting off on the Vespa when the temperature plummets I head out on the beach for a walk to Perkins Cove about a mile away. I have the right gear. There is a fine little café where I can get in out of the weather and have something hot to drink. Arriving in Perkins Cove, wet yet satisfied in the same manner when I return from a winter ride, I find the café closed. Everything is closed and aside from a few storm peepers inside their cars there isn’t a soul outside.

The experience gave me an excellent opportunity to justify and rationalize my riding (and walking) behavior. Standing on a promontory looking out past the waves I remembered sailing through similar weather just 30 miles off shore on my way to Peake’s Island, Maine.

Maybe it’s a good time to re-evaluate risk.

Sons of Anarchy

by 16 Comments

This post began simmering in my brain after reading a post on 2 Stroke Buzz titled A Minivan for your Testicles. Kim and I have been watching the FX show called Sons of Anarchy — a soap opera on the drama within and around an outlaw biker gang in California.

There is a special kind of macho surrounding bikers. While I’m not sure how many there are anymore (List of the Top 10 Biker Gangs in the USA) you see a lot of the biker style on the road. And riding a Vespa certainly doesn’t fit in that style. And when I saw the picture associated with A Minivan for your Testicles it got me thinking of all the good natured and not so good-natured ribbing I’ve gotten from other riders about the manliness of a scooter.

The picture below says it all.


The look and style certainly fits with the idea of a minivan. I have my own little minivan. I never realized I had a style.

And I agree, a scooter is just as dangerous as a motorcycle. Woe to those riders in shorts and flip-flops who feel there’s no need for a helmet because they’re on a scooter. And so I come back to the Sons of Anarchy.

The images and styles reflect on the TV show reflect our collective consciousness of biker gangs. Almost. The producers have carefully put helmets on all the bikers. So the image is a bit watered down though not to the level of the Black Widows in Every Which Way But Loose where Clint Eastwood and his ape are pursued by some bad bikers.

Image is one thing though. The real message is in a rider’s actions. And as simple and obvious as this seems to me it doesn’t seem to be the driving force behind what makes for a good, macho ride.

I’m sort of pissed to find out that I purchased a minivan without even knowing it. No wonder I get no respect on the road.

Into the Night

by 18 Comments

Junior knows when we’re on the last walk of the night. He has an uncanny sense of time and often knows what I’m going to do before I do. Standing under a moonlit sky at 1:30am we listen to crickets, cicadas, and katydids perform their summer symphony. He’s thinking biscuit and bed. I’m thinking it a good night for a ride.

The nice thing about being married to an artist is that a middle of the night ride falls within the limits of normal behavior. Kim’s only misgiving is that she can’t come along. If my employer is reading this please note I am on vacation this week.

Night stimulates varied responses among riders. For some (like me) it evokes a time of stillness and reflection. For others, it’s a time for terror of deer, drunks, and unfortunate interactions. I remember a book on motorcycle technique that admonished the reader to venture into the night only in an emergency and in dire, personal peril. I believe that. The heightened risk is real and I manage accordingly.

I arrive in town as the bars are closing and people are on the sidewalk making final social decisions. With camera in hand I walk across the street to make a few pictures. Too lazy to retrieve the tripod I sit down against a parking meter and steady the camera against my knees for a half second exposure at a grain generating ISO.

Forgive my photographic indolence.

On campus the pervasive illumination keeps the night at bay and lends a theatrical feeling to the surroundings. Night is somewhere other than here.

Kneeling in the middle of the street behind a little tripod I struggle to make a picture of the Vespa and the moon. I police cruiser glides by watching me work. Law enforcement everywhere knows that photographers using tripods constitute the good guys. I thought he might question my Vespa parked on the sidewalk but he departed in search of more interesting miscreants.

It’s 2:30am as I ride out of town in search of a more suitable landscape to breath in the night. I’m transported into childhood as the scent of Queen Anne’s Lace growing along the road reminds me of playing army in the fields and woods of years ago.

Standing in a field of corn and soybeans the moon illuminates the controls of the camera. Everything is painted in a cool blue gray with deep shadows hiding any real detail. Fireflies and the taillights of an occasional passing car provide the only rich colors.

My interest in making pictures wanes quickly. A few lame attempts to use the flash and I’m done. Dew has formed on my helmet as the temperature drops. I sense a nearby skunk. In the distance a car engine moves over the road coming closer and bringing it’s bright light with it. When the car stops I wonder who’s behind the wheel – someone concerned for the safety of a man in a black and yellow riding jacket standing next to a Vespa? Or is it just someone looking for trouble and sees a scooter as an easy target?

The car slowly moves away and disappears over a hill. I’m left alone looking at the stars and thinking it gets no better than this.