Scooter in the Sticks

Exploring life on a Vespa Scooter and Royal Enfield Himalayan motorcycle.

Swear an Oath

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I swear I will turn off my cellphone when I get in the car.

As much as I grumble about others using their cellphones while driving I use mine too — kidding myself that it’s safe because I have it tucked into the visor on speaker phone.
I read an article in the New York Times this evening that was a bit sobering. The article is called Drivers and Legislators Dismiss Cellphone Risk.
Read it. And better yet turn off your cellphone I guess. I know how easy it is to rationalize it being safe or necessary. A real time saving multitasking life extending invention. I’ve said those things. I don’t believe them anymore. So I’ll make a change.
I swear.

Revisiting Risk: Thaw Then Freeze

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Self portrait in mirror of Steve WilliamsSteve Williams, Vespa Rider, Winter Rider

That’s what I look like after a mistake in judgment. I look pretty much the same when I make the right choices. I’m careful choosing the days I’ll ride. But I do make mistakes.

Vespa GTS scooter along rural road in winterScooter Riding in Freezing Weather

Impatience to ride and choosing to believe the sunnier of two weather prospects contributed to an error in evaluating the risk of riding this morning. And there was also the fact that I ignored the direct evidence that the driveway that was wet last night was ice this morning. Ignoring that I walked to the road to find dry, salty pavement. In my head I’m repeating the weather forecast, “…near 50 degrees this afternoon…” I’m standing in the road, it’s 8 AM and the temperature is 27 degrees Fahrenheit.

Vespa GTS scooter on a road with a double yellow lineOn the Road in Winter

On the road I am thinking about breakfast and not the ice. Out of town and into the countryside I begin seeing intermittent ice strips along the road from streams of water that ran during yesterday’s thaw. I’m still not processing the data. Instead I point the scooter straight ahead across the ice, these patches that are still narrow. Breakfast in Centre Hall or Bellefonte? Ten miles or fifteen? My stomach is managing the ride.

sheet ice on the road during a Vespa scooter rideEncountering Ice on the Road

A 50-foot wide swath of ice. Yesterday is was liquid water but now it is a big stop sign. It’s not a little patch of ice. It’s not black ice which has more traction to it than this stuff. It’s shiny deep ice.

This is how a rider manages shiny ice:

  • Pull over and stop
  • Look in the mirrors for traffic
  • Push up the visor and admire the ice
  • Say to yourself “What the f…??”
  • Decide not to ride to Centre Hall or Bellefonte for breakfast
  • Admire the ice some more
  • Sigh
  • Begin picking out the least slippery path across the ice
  • Cross the ice

Right, cross the ice.

There’s an element of machismo in riding. Perhaps less on a Vespa but it’s still there. It evaporates crossing ice. Anyone watching knows you’re an idiot. Or worse. Feet down pattering around as the scooter moves forward slowly searching for just a tiny bit of traction from a stray piece of gravel. The scooter moves in directions is shouldn’t, boots find no purchase. Constant attention to the mirrors for traffic. I am fortunate in my little world that traffic is minimal to non-existent. No one is watching. I don’t just look stupid doing this, I am stupid. Poor decision-making back in the driveway.

Over the next two miles I repeat the process a dozen times as each ice hazard seems to become more complex, like a puzzle book or increasing difficulty. My brain is working now to determine an ice-free route. That means a main traffic artery where use and excessive salt will mean less likelihood of ice. A half hour later I am at Barnes and Noble. Not the breakfast I planned but one requiring a reasonable amount of risk.

Notes on index cards with a bottle of orange juiceRiding, Photography and Taking Notes

I sat and wrote this down before I forgot what happened. I like to forget things that don’t go my way or illuminate me in a bright, positive light. It’s one of the unexpected benefits of blogging — learning something about how I operate. While I successfully managed the risk on the road I did not do a good job managing the consideration of risk to determine if I would ride. The mistaken application of a weather forecast for later in the day, ignoring the significance of ice in the driveway, and allowing my desire to ride cloud my judgment, all worked together to produce a failure in managing the risks I am willing to take.

I learned some things today. And I did bring home a giant chocolate chip cookie.

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Revisiting Risk

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Morning Fall
by Edward McGinty

I’ve been working on a piece related to risk and the potential price of riding. It’s the sort of thing that makes family and spouses uncomfortable but bears consideration by anyone who ventures out on two wheels. Denial is not a useful tool in managing risk.

I’ve reposted the Morning Fall video that I shared over two years ago. It helped me think about risk and consequences and has focused my attention (again) on managing my skills and expectations wisely. If you have not seen it before it is worth watching. And if you have, maybe it will rekindle your own desires to be a better rider.

I should be posting my new risk piece over the weekend.

The Seduction of Riding Through Curves

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If the reaper was standing at every curve perhaps fewer riders would find their way off the road or into the path of an oncoming vehicle. At least that’s what I was thinking when I saw this reaper around Halloween. On smooth, dry, pavement the tires feel stuck to the road and any maneuver seems possible, reasonable. More experience on two wheels seems to be followed by more throttle and all wrapped up in feelings of perfect skill and perfect lines. I wonder if it is during these moments of perfect thinking that riders find their way towards oblivion? Or maybe it’s something much simpler and direct, a patch of gravel or a distracting thought. Whatever it is curves sing a siren song to riders and there isn’t a mast to tie yourself to on a scooter or motorcycle.

Skill development works best when you practice. It is important though to have some basic understanding of the nature of the machine and how best to apply some fundamental techniques. I don’t know about you but I’m no expert and require ongoing thought and practice to keep my skills at the level necessary to manage risk on the road. And even the things I think I have learned I seem to forget or ignore at times so ongoing reminders are in order. With the Web it is pretty easy to find information and I have found a few pieces that I revisit from time to time. You may know of others.

For me, there is no better source of serious writing on skill development and application than through some of the thoughtful posts on Musings of an Intrepid Commuter by Dan Bateman. Dan is a motorcycle safety instructor with Team Oregon, a national leader in motorcycle safety training, and a fine writer and teacher via his blog. And if you follow for very long you’ll realize he is not your average rider.

As I looked at this picture for the past couple weeks I started thinking about riding in curves, training, practice, and all those things it is easy to overlook or check off as “done”. And then I thought about Dan’s posts that I reread and reread and thought I would share them here for anyone interested in keeping the learning curve moving upwards. If the weather is slowing your time on two wheels it may be the right time to pay Dan a visit!

Riding in Curves
Part One
Part Two

Keeping Your Head Up and Eyes Looking Out While Riding

How Good is Good Enough?
Part One
Part Two
Part Three

Balance: On the Road and in Life

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Looking out over a quiet morning landscape reminds me of the possibility of balance. What it means and what it takes to achieve.

One of the reasons I ride so early in the morning is the world is still a simple place. Returning my father-in-law’s Vespa ET4 on a 60 mile ride at dawn swept everything away but the balance of the moment.

Waiting at traffic lights I try to balance the scooter. Feet up at a dead stop I count the seconds before balance evaporates. One, two, three seconds and the Vespa begins to travel towards the pavement. A 350-pound scooter is easy to manage and keep upright. That’s probably why I don’t see Harley and Goldwing riders playing the same game. This practice has done wonders for my own slow speed balance. Not sure how others practice.

Balance. A simple word with many implications. More than the obvious riding needs to keep the rubber side down. Riding home from work in the ends of a heavy rain called for another form of balance as I worked to manage my position on the road, with other vehicles and water lying randomly in my path. Speed, lane position, my intentions, suspicion of others, everything working together in an intuitive balance that manages risk.

Inputs affecting balance seem endless. When the dance on the road becomes too frenetic an alternative is always available. Stop, slow down, take another route. As long as my brain doesn’t interfere with my willingness to depart from a preconceived plan. Stubborn. Stupid.

Sitting this morning in the Boalsburg Griddle having breakfast I was struck by a sign from the Pennsylvania Liquor Control Board outlining their attempt to exert balance in the beer consumption arena. You can’t walk out with more than 192 ounces of beer. The need to balance is everywhere.

On the road it is a model of simplicity compared to the choices faced everyday in living. At least for me. Choices are more varied, their impact subtle, gray, and uncertain. As are the motives. Little wonder the struggle for balance rages from eyes open in the morning until I drift into oblivion at night. During that time though is the real juice of living.

It’s been almost a month since my last post. This one has been in my head simmering and blocking the way. Wrestling with balance at home, at work, it’s held my attention. Letting these words finally spill out in my Moleskine journal has brought balance. All is right in my world and the road ahead is now clear…