Scooter in the Sticks

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

Dreaming

by 7 Comments

greeting card titled "Dreaming."
 
The entire morning was focused on dreaming.  Or more precisely on ideas and paths not considered or taken, of flights of fancy and journeys of partnership that might be explored.  The morning ride had me thinking about what to write on Kim’s birthday card.
 
It’s what makes Vespa riding so great.
 
 
Vespa GTS scooter in snowy farm field
 
 
Another cold morning though sunshine took the edge off making the snow and cold seem little more than a picturesque landscape in which to explore.  A week off work provided ample opportunity to acquire a taste for the cold and grow relaxed with the winter riding ritual. 
 
Seven days ago the thought of Vespa riding through a frozen cornfield would seem a technical stretch. Today it seemed almost normal.  So normal that thoughts of birthdays and dreams came easy.
 
 
Vespa GTS scooter on snowy road
 
Before the Vespa, Kim and I explored these mountains on foot with cameras and notebooks.  And before that fall and winter backpacking.  Now, as the Vespa slowly prowls along small paths and roads puzzle over what’s next here for Kim and me; how will our lives unfold.
 
The morning had a postcard quality to it with blue sky draped with white clouds over a mix of snow and ice.  Vespa riding was a joy.
 
 
 
Vespa GTS scooter on snow covered road
 
Joy might give the wrong impression.  While the main roads were clear it didn’t take long to find snow and ice still lingering on secondary roads.  Caution was in order.  Vespa riding in winter can be tricky business.
 
 
Vespa scooter at a Christmas tree farm

Coming across a local Christmas tree farm moved thinking from birthday to another season. Christmas will be here in less than a month.  Time is flying.

The ride at times felt like a dream, a scene from Lord of the Rings with familiar places transformed into new ones.

 

Vespa GTS scooter on snowy rural road

Riding this time of year when the temperature drops below freezing it’s important to anticipate problems.  This snow-covered road exits from a clear dry road.  On warm days I would enter this road at 40mph.  Knowing it might now be dry I crawled on at 10.  Good thing too because at a higher speed I would have lost control.  In cold weather, you can never ride faster than you can see.

Never.

 

Vespa scooter parked on snow covered road

The message of this picture:  I have little traffic to contend with as I navigate the snow and ice.  And there was a lot of ice hidden beneath the light dusting of snow.

 

Vespa GTS scooter parked on a street

 

A view from Schlow Library towards the Vespa.  By the time I sat down at a table by the window my thoughts were complete and I wrote something to Kim — a fine morning, a fine ride, and a fine day.

It’s been like a dream…

 

Ride More and Aerostich

by 18 Comments

Aerostich is responsible for this ride.  Seriously, had I not looked through their catalog last night and read “The World’s Coolest Ride” by Mr. Subjective, I would not have chosen the cold this morning. It’s nice to have a reminder to ride when the weather conspires against instinct.

At 29F my hands get cold fast when the gloves come off to make a picture.  But it’s worth it to stand in the flow of sunlight.

The Aerostich story says we humans are natural risk managers and improve with success.  I know there’s more risk when the temperature drops below the freezing point.  Idiots about dumping coffee and other liquids from their vehicles onto the road.  And natural springs contribute to the possibilities.  Managing these and other obstacles bring focus to life.

Besides, it’s great to see the sunrise in the open.

Like all rides of late food is involved.  This morning I met my friend Howard for breakfast at the Naked Egg Cafe in Pine Grove Mills, Pennsylvania.  Warm inside and cold out.  Nice to beat the rush.  Breakfast was, as usual, stellar.

Not sure what Howard ordered, some kind of Southwest breakfast, but it sure was pretty.  I opted for my usual bacon, eggs, and this morning the absolute best tater tots I’ve had the opportunity to eat.

Aerostich offers hints on how to ride more and sells a T-shirt by the same name.  I’ve been looking at those hints and have the desire for a Roadcrafter suit in my head again.  Would make things much easier to deal with when it’s cold.  Dressing for cold rides takes time right now.

Warmer tomorrow — 32F at sunrise.  Balmy.

Ride More.  That’s my motto at the moment.

Attitude Adjustment: Riding at the End of the Week

by 12 Comments

I needed to be out in the world, riding, or making photographs, I’m not sure which.  The mist cum rain shrouded the mountains in a dark gloom.  Seven miles from home, the gray ribbon of limestone and mud flows through stands of White Pine and hemlock, oak and ash trees creating a sensual canvas of sight and smell that I can’t resist.  Triggering those senses serves to reset a mind and body drawn thin from a week of work.

My first visit to this part of Rothrock State Forest came over 40 years ago when I drove a Volkswagen Beetle along the roads I continue to prowl on the Vespa.  Thinking about the vehicles I have owned during my life I see a trend of spartan power and performance right up to the Honda Fit sitting in the driveway now.

The rain was light, just enough moisture to keep the camera wet and continually wiping the helmet visor with my glove.  When I traverse these kinds of roads, especially when wet, I find myself wishing I had more aggressive tires.  Too early for the Heidenau winter tires and too late to change out the summer ones.  Even so, I can safely manage the scooter from 25 to 40mph depending on the amount of loose gravel, washboard sections, mud or crown height.  Riding a scooter on wet gravel roads is a different piece of business from riding a motorcycle.

I suppose it’s part of the mental attraction to a ride serving now purpose beyond hitting the reset switch in my brain and perhaps tease the lizard brain.

Central Pennsylvania is a beautiful place in the fall.  Riding through the woods I expected to see a black bear or two loping along the road or crossing in front of me.  I’ve seen it before on foot or in the car.

But nothing this evening, just a few deer and the odd squirrel.  It’s cold enough now I don’t worry about rattlesnakes as I tromp through the weeds and brush.  The deer tick is the only evil worth paying attention to at the moment.

The Vespa can go just about anywhere a motorcycle can.  Perhaps not as fast or with the same mechanical prowess, but it is a capable little machine.  At least until you encounter water.

I expected to see pools of water but hoped to avoid any flooded areas which I did.  But the low air intake on the scooter makes it a poor candidate for any sort of foolishness involving water or deep mud encounters.  Doesn’t take much liquid or debris being sucked into the engine to cut a ride short.

Possibly permanently.

I make sure to avoid water where possible and to absolutely know how deep a murky flow is before attempting any riding heroics.

My hope for drama in the sky with fog in the valley were dashed as I looked east towards Detweiler Natural Area and the Seven Mountains beyond.  Not even an eagle soaring overhead or a screech owl to serenade me before turning towards home.

As the day began to fade my eyes adjusted for darting deer and the black bear I still hoped to see. I’m amazed at how well a ride continues to demonstrate a unique power to transform my attitude and outlook on life.

Sitting at home now thinking of other rides and what the next will bring.  Until then a cup of tea and thoughts of dinner will transform the world again…

A Perfectly Ordinary Ride

by 13 Comments

Every route into town is familiar, intimate.  Mental notes on every jarring pothole and road seam, trees dropping walnuts and osage oranges, hiding places for police cars and intersections known for drivers running stops signs and traffic lights.  If you ride long enough.

Ride even longer and the characters along the road come to life as well.  Like this Belgian draft horse at Oak Hall Farm.  Trotting over each time I stop to take a picture — a bit unnerving to have 2000 pounds of horse giving you the once over with only a few strands of wire between us. If we were properly introduced and the owner approved I would offer a slice of the Honeycrisp apple stowed in my topcase.  Few words exchanged between us aside from a soft, “Hey bud, why the long face?”.

A moment more to consider the fog, make a few more images, and then off towards town and Saint’s Cafe. A perfectly ordinary ride until I take a moment to look a little closer and say hello to a horse.

Fog offers one of the few reliable environments to experiences something too strange to believe.  Like seeing spirits or ghosts, aliens or Big Foot.  If there is magic in the world it will surely involve fog.

Imagination forges doorways in perception that allow imagination to burn forth and transform a perfectly ordinary ride into something special.

Off in the distance, at the foot of Mount Nittany, I can almost see a mountain lion cross the road and disappear into the forest.  Some believe they still prowl the Pennsylvania forests.  If they do then surely their existence will be confirmed on a foggy day.

Photographically speaking fog strips away much of the tonal and color experiences of life leaving behind form, shape, composition and the hint of something more beyond perception.  I’ve ridden past these gravel piles a hundred times, maybe a thousand.  And each time I stop and look I imagine something new, like a kid laying in the grass on a summer day looking at clouds and seeing giants.

The new front rack looks good in this dream on a perfectly ordinary ride.

Can’t help but think of scenes from The Walking Dead.  Empty roads disappearing into the unknown. The story would be different in the sunshine, a different perfectly ordinary ride.

Sunday morning at Saint’s Cafe in State College, Pennsylvania — a destination for, by now, hundreds of perfectly ordinary rides to meet my friend Gordon, talk about photography, teaching and the work and world we construct.

The morning started with a whisper today, the world spinning up slowly giving me time to take it in.  As it was on the Vespa during a perfectly ordinary ride.

 Finished watching “Long Way Down” and thought about my own experience in light of that film.  Adventure lies close and circumstance dictates the rides I make.  That’s ok.

I don’t believe I’ve yet scratched the surface in terms of seeing and experiencing the world just outside my door. And that’s why a perfectly ordinary ride is still so rich.

Wonderment and the Small Riding Ritual

by 8 Comments

Quiet, serene, the perfect space for Earl Grey tea and a toasted bagel — Saint’s Cafe in State College, Pennsylvania.  What began five years ago as a time to inspire photography and examine contact sheets and prints has become, for me at least, part of a solemn riding ritual.  
This morning, the day after the Nittany Lions defeated Kent State at Beaver Stadium, I thought the place would be packed.  Instead I found a welcome emptiness to reflect on the day and pen a few notes in my journal.

The familiar route under heavy skies sublime, all cares and worries washed free leaving imagination and wonder as the Vespa rolled along.  Objects and places strange, new, and the ride I’ve made hundreds of times

Looking at the looming road sign brought a smile as it faced off with the scooter.  A quote sang in my head…

“Wonder is the heaviest element on the periodic table. Even a tiny fleck of it stops time.” 
― Diane Ackerman

How lucky the rider who finds a piece of wonderment along the road.

This morning, Mount Nittany, the quiet hill watching over Penn State, Lemont, Boalsburg, Oak Hall, Linden Hall, State College and Houserville — it possesses magic which I never tire of witnessing.

Home.

The first leg of the ritual ride ends across from Schlow Library.  Ample free motorcycle parking on a Sunday morning.  In fact I have never failed to find a space here, or at least I can’t remember a time.

And off to Saint’s Cafe on foot, a few hundred steps, not quite a walking meditation, but just enough time to recognize a troubling thought or happy memory.

Ah, the small rituals that make life sweet…