Exploring life on a Vespa Scooter and Royal Enfield Himalayan motorcycle.
Empty and AloneGiven the option, in most situations I choose to be alone. Finding Saint’s Cafe nearly empty at 9am on a weekend because Penn State is on break is a gift. It’s the same with my Vespa — I embrace the quiet ride.Continue Reading
The end of a busy work week was blessed with a magnificent painting of light and color in the day’s end sky. It’s hard not to feel grateful to just be alive and breathing in the world when presented with such a scene.
The feeling followed me home like a faithful dog.
And then the crisp fragrance of autumn leaves and clean night air was assaulted by the repugnant stench of woodsmoke. Not the aromatic scent of apple wood or hickory, dried and cured for crackling action in a fine fire, but the rather more nasty and poisonous spew from too green oak and other loathsome fuels.
A poisonous tradition holds sway here in the heart of Penns Woods among burners and firemakers — so much so that elected officials who’ve long banned the burning of trash and brush and other waste as noxious and unnecessary are unable to address the friendship fire which is equally noxious and arguably less necessary than the others.
Harris Township so far doesn’t have the courage to address what they consider a nuisance to be dealt with by the police rather than by ordinance leaving the poor police department holding the sticky end of the lollipop with no real criteria to assess a “nuisance”. Talking to one of the township supervisors at election night this past Tuesday about this issue his response was, “People love their fires…”.
Yes they do.
“I have a right to burn a fire!” is a familiar refrain I’ve heard many times expressed with upright patriotic fire. Less often do I hear “I have a right to breathe clean air!”.
Whose rights win in that argument? Burn but don’t let your smoke leave your property? Hold your breathe until the fire goes out?
The argument reminds me of the ongoing argument concerning loud exhaust systems on motorcycles — my right to bolt on loud pipes (and save lives) versus my right to enjoy a little peace and quiet in an increasingly noisy world.
With both situations there seems little intelligent dialogue and instead more self centered, self interested actions based in childish “I want what I want and it’s a free country and don’t tread on me because it’s my land.” Or something like that.
But perhaps it doesn’t matter. We’ll all die of something anyways and maybe the particulate ridden cancer swollen smoke won’t trigger enough mutation to cause lung cancer or the asthma won’t be bad enough to kill you. And the carbon pouring into the air because I want a fireplace or wood burner or friendship fire doesn’t matter because climate change is a hoax much like the Apollo moon landings and Elvis’s death.
The sky is still beautiful. The air still stinks.
Do you look forward to riding alone?
My preference is to ride alone. The road and what I do with it belongs to me — a selfish, self-centered state of mind. And in that state I can entertain dreams, regrets, host demons and converse with angels. It’s a look in the mirror and a mental blood-letting with the Vespa and road playing the leech.
I found “YOURSELF” on the side of a barn — a word extracted from a Mail Pouch tobacco sign and perhaps a reminder to me of my own genetic need to be alone at times.
On the road I’ve been singing The Wayfaring Stranger, an early 19th century folk and gospel song. It’s a story of a soul on a journey through life. I first heard the song over 40 years ago in the TV show Then Came Bronson. Michael Parks and Bonnie Bedelia sing a quiet duet that still echoes in my head. There are many versions but this is still my favorite.
Not sure why it’s surfaced. I suppose there’s some unfinished business my mind needs to chew on while I ride.
Does this happen to you?
I saw this Christmas video posted on the Modern Vespa forum this evening and it reminded me of how I wish things were in the world. One hundred years have passed since men waged battles in the trenches of Europe. While wars continue, the spark of human hope and imagination persists that seeks peace on earth and that one day the world will be a better place.
May this video remind you of the dream as well.
UPDATE: After reading the comments on the video I remembered the song “Children’s Crusade” by Sting done in the 1980s. It’s a powerful follow to the above video.
Unshaven, rested, relaxed. That’s what a week of vacation can do for a person. My friend Gordon made the photograph, my wife Kim said I looked relaxed, and I know I’m rested and unshaven. The past week has been an exercise in no plans, no schedule, no goals, no nothing. I like to think I’m a creature of habit but it’s more likely I’m a creature of circumstance. With no schedule to adhere to I’ve stayed up ’til dawn, slept past noon, hung out in coffee shops and generally watched the world go by.
And did some Vespa riding.
On days I didn’t sleep past noon I was out in the cold with the dog or on the Vespa. A week of that was all it took to acclimate to the frigid weather. Now everything from 20F and higher feels comfortable. Or at least tolerable.
This image was made on Sunday morning at sunrise with Junior in tow. A dog offers fine examples of how to embrace life at it’s simplest level.
Junior pausing briefly for me to make a portrait. Cold enough outside for his breath to freeze over the hair on his neck. He just walked through the living room, looked at me, and went upstairs to bed. “He know’s the day’s over,” said Kim. “No more walks, treats or food. Nothing left but to go to sleep.”
I’m almost in the same place.
It’s been a cold week with snow and ice and have helped thicken my riding blood. This morning Mr. Pumpkin looked particularly annoyed by the 18F temperature reading as I got ready to ride into town to meet my photography compatriots at Saint’s Cafe. Neither the Vespa or I uttered a complaint.
Morning has more attraction for me than any other time of day — visually and mentally. I awake quickly with no need for coffee or tea. Seeing the sun rise and the warm beams of light lick through the trees continues to cause the heart to beat faster.
Allen Street is still asleep at 8:30 on a Sunday morning. Plenty of parking and no traffic to contend with is fine by me.
Saint’s Cafe in State College, Pennsylvania. The holiday decorations have already gone up. The place seems personal, friendly and like home.
Simple pleasures during the vacation. Hot chocolate and a few moments alone with my thoughts.
The earlybirds. In thirty minutes the place will start to fill up and the hustle and bustle will become more pronounced. Being away from that pace for just a week makes the change seem dramatic.
During the past week the Vespa and I have ridden the familiar tracks and explored some new ones. The snow and ice have offered an opportunity to sharpen my skills and mind and the time away from work has allowed my batteries to recharge so I can jump head first into some big projects.
And the rides have given me a chance to catch up with old friends if only for a few moments. But mostly I just laid about in decadent sloth. So much for plans to organize my digital photos or straightening up the garage. It was far more satisfying to nap, eat, ride play with the dog, hang out with Kim and anything other than be a responsible adult.
Damn, I guess I need to go upstairs and shave now.