Scooter in the Sticks

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

Riding Resistance

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The intrusion of work, life, age and weather conspire to build powerful physical and cerebral riding resistance.  As the interval between rides (or blog posts) grows, the energy required to regain motion increases as well.

Or so it is with me…

Snow covered drivewayEvaluating Snow

Our new snow blower, cardiologist recommended, cuts a fine path to push the Vespa scooter out of the garage and into the world.  I did the winter riding dance, testing the road surface, evaluated the quality of snow, traffic and forecast for more of the white stuff.

Riding a scooter or motorcycle in winter, especially in snow, demands a long checklist of considerations.  On this morning I stopped at “Snow tires mounted”.  My Heidenau snow tires are sitting in the garage waiting to be called to action.

It’s been a week since I went for a ride and already I’m feeling the resistance.

Vespa GTS scooter on wet rural roadFlights of Euphoria (or not)

Last weekend I abided the damp chill of a light rain and temperatures in the upper thirties as I wandered the countryside pondering thoughts trespassing my serenity.  Some rides are flights of euphoria while others chained to the noise of existence, the scooter, like a team of draft horses, part of a forced toil dragging my grey cloud spirit along in hopes of finding clearer skies.

View of snow from Pump Station Cafe windowRide Cancelled Due to Snow

The view from the Pump Station Cafe in Boalsburg, Pennsylvania as I write this post.  Part of me wishes the Vespa was in the picture.  Most of me is happy I drove the car.  What sort of Vespa adventurer does that make me?

I don’t care.  Contentment, serenity and attendant happiness arrived when I grew comfortable with my choices and actions.  Wish it hadn’t taken so long to get here.

Eight inches of snow are on the ground with more falling.  Deciding not to ride is a good choice.  Provides an opportunity to respond to a mountain of unanswered email, write a post, rub the dog’s bellies, make pancakes, and generally frolic in the little joys of being alive.

Except for that part about email.

Vespa GTS scooter in a farm field on a rainy dayCenter of the World

I know my photographs of the scooter in the center of an empty space are metaphors for my brooding on life — especially the pathway decorated with murals of aging.  I’m not sure what’s more thrilling; riding to these places, or thinking about them later.  It’s a gift finding joy in both.

Everyone observes their path differently.  A quote from the movie based on Larry McMurtry’s book Lonesome Dove that I’ve come to recognize:

“The older the violin, the sweeter the music.”
— spoken by Augustus McCrae

Steve Williams and his Vespa GTS scooterResistance is Futile

The scooter always takes me where I want to go.  I may not know the destination or the reason I’m on the road but there always seems to be a mysterious arrival at the right place at the right time despite the rocky mental roads along the way. Riding resistance has continued to melt as the call of the road becomes louder.

For now, the snow will keep the scooter in the garage while I attend to other matters.

All is well.

 

Poisonous Tradition

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Central Pennsylvania sunset

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.

Train of Thought

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Vespa GTS scooter dash at sunriseOne of the most delightful aspects of riding is being alone with your thoughts. It’s curious how many problems can be unraveled while wandering down the road. A train of thought can be clear, direct and arrive at its destination quickly, or it can be a meandering slog up mountainsides and through jungles. These adventures are why I don’t listen to music while riding and generally choose to ride alone.

But even when riding with others, unless you’re using a two-way communication device, your thoughts are free to wander.

This past Saturday evening I received a text: “Call Paul”. A few minutes later it was decided we would head out of town for breakfast. The next morning the Vespa was ready to go.

Vespa scooters along a rural roadThe landscape is changing as fall approaches. The air is cool in the morning and a mix of fog and hazy hangs in the valley. Traffic is light as we near Warriors Mark, Pennsylvania. Paul polices the litter — an empty Newport cigarette pack on the road.

Tom and Joe's Diner in Altoona, PennsylvaniaOur breakfast destination was Tom and Joes’ Diner, an Altoona, Pennsylvania tradition operating since 1933. As I stood looking toward the Cathedral of the Blessed Sacrament which rises over the city my train of thought raced back to the railroad heydays when the Pennsylvania Railroad ruled the world as the largest railroad in the country and at one time having an operating budget larger than the United States government.

For a moment I felt a twang of nostalgia for those smoking, hulking locomotives I remember from childhood.

customers at Tom and Joe'sThe inside of Tom and Joes was packed with people – so many faces and bodies that you end up not seeing anyone.  Case in point.  My Vespa riding father-in-law was two booths away, something we determined on the phone later that day.

Vespa GTS scooter in Altoona, PennsylvaniaForty-four years ago I began traveling through Altoona on my way to college — a long trip from Pittsburgh to State College.  There wasn’t a lot between those locations except for Altoona.  It was a lively, bustling city then.  Now the hustle and bustle seems to have moved out to the shopping malls outside of town.

Paul Ruby examining a rusty old CadillacI’m not the only one following a train of thought.  Paul is always on the lookout for the right old car. It’s as if some small part of his brain is always focused on the goal.  We stopped so he could inspect this rusty old Cadillac.  The kind of unique automobile that a place like Altoona might have available.

Altoona, Pennsylvania railroad shopsThe railroad still is invested in Altoona though perhaps not at the same level as when the Pennsylvania Railroad employed over 250,ooo people at its height.  The repair shops are still impressive even though they’re but a shadow of their former glory.  And it’s Norfolk Southern today.

A few miles down the road at DelGrosso Park Paul and I parted ways as he stopped to see the foreign car show. My path led toward home.

Vespa GTS scooter along roadThe roads here are as varied as my train of thought.  It’s nice to be able to choose from a series of routes to get to the same place.  With mind still wandering and all roads leading home it was a fine way to end a Sunday morning ride.

Alone.

And with my thoughts.

 

Riding Before Sunrise

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Vespa scooter at Exxon stationFuel stop at a local Exxon station to prepare the Vespa for a trip to breakfast some 50 miles away. Riding before sunrise is a quiet experience.  The world is asleep and the roads clear — a perfect time to ride.

Paul Ruby portraitMy friend Paul Ruby wants to visit Mamie’s in Martinsburg, Pennsylvania, a small eating establishment with a hearty breakfast and baked goods selection.  Probably not the best choice for my post-heart attack diet but I can indulge every now and again.

Paul and I have made this trip before.  Each time it’s a different experience.

Scooter and motorcycle along road before sunriseAs 6am arrived the sun hadn’t breached the horizon leaving the world in that pre-dawn glow I love so well.  For a moment I thought how easy it would be to just ride south, across the Mason-Dixon line into Maryland and on into Virginia toward Front Royal.  Just a short ride from there onto the Blue Ridge Parkway.

Not sure why that came into my head but for a period of time I was doing the time calculations to get there and home before dinner.

Ducati and Vespa at sunriseSunrise offers a strong lesson in the machinations of the earth as it turns on its axis.  I’m always surprised at the speed of the change from dawn to sunrise and on into morning.  Standing in a bean field I feel blessed to bear witness to the magic.

Paul Ruby on the road with his DucatiThere are miles of fine roads and riding before breakfast.  As I notice views in my rear view mirror I stop and command Paul to turn around and become a model.  While making this photo I sense the first gurgling of desire in my gut — time for breakfast.

motorcycle and scooter at Mamie's Cafe in Martinsburg, PAArriving early meant we could park right in front of Mamie’s Cafe.  Being quite hungry as I write this post I’m not going to dwell on breakfast save for it was good, it was a vegetable omelet, and it was big.

I also bought a fresh doughnut but only had a couple bites.  It felt like trouble.

Vespa at a scenic viewOne the way home we found a narrow road wandering up and over a mountain.  One of the things I love best on a ride if finding a new path to a familiar destination.  The view was unexpected but appreciated.

You can see Raystown Lake in the distance.

Vespa scooter and Ducati motorcycle on rural roadFar from the drought consuming the western parts of the United States, central Pennsylvania is lush with corn, soybeans and alfalfa hay in fine shape.  Our machines are simple trespassers in a pastoral scene.

Vespa scooter and Ducati motorcycle on US22While no big sky in terms or what you might see in Montana this is perhaps as good as it gets in the ridge and valley region of Pennsylvania.  Looking down roads that lead away toward the horizon triggers desires to keep riding and exploring to see what’s over the next hill.

But all rides come to an end — but not without generating some pleasant memories to call up during some darker day…

Dark Shadows

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This post is not about the television show or movie named Dark Shadows.  The old TV show does inform some of my “darker” thoughts though..

Vespa GTS scooter moving into the gloomIt’s not often that I ride through an area that feels creepy, as if something bad has happened, spirits lingering with malevolent intent.  I don’t believe in ghosts but there are times when the complex chemical workings of my body and mind get the best of me.

On the morning I made this photograph I could feel my skin prickling.  My hand was in my pocket on my phone wondering how quickly I could dial 911, wondering if there was any cell coverage.

Camp Antler -- an old hunting camp near Livonia, PennsylvaniaIn the darkness just off the road sat Camp Antler, an old hunting camp that could serve as a cinematic location for another episode in the Hannibal Lecter series.  Or perhaps one of the woodsman’s cabins on the grounds of Collingwood.  Kim and I had been discussing one of the local missing person cases where the person just vanished.  My mind was telling me they would find them here.  Or someone else.

The phone wasn’t needed and as quickly as the feeling surfaced it faded when the Vespa entered the sunshine a few miles up the road.  Faded, but not forgotten.

Dark cloudsThe weather seemed odd for a couple days.  The clouds conspired to force uncomfortable thoughts about life and death.  I swore I could feel the blood pumping past the drug eluting stent near my heart.  Looking up I couldn’t tell if the clouds were closing in our the sky was opening up.  That unsettled feeling stuck with me for days despite engaging the Vespa riding prescription for ailments of the heart and mind.

Vespa GTS scooter with Mount NittanyMore than once on the way to work the world seemed empty.  I wondered if the earth was passing through some strange electromagnetic field that triggered my hypothalamus to secrete odd hormones that were affecting my imagination powers.

angel in a gardenWalking through our garden at dusk often triggers thoughts of spirits and creatures etched carefully by books, movies and television shows.  I would not be surprised to see Barnabas Collins as I passed by this old garden angel.

Vespa GTS scooter with Triumph Tiger motorcycleIn the parking lot at the hospital I found safety with the herd — in this instance parked next to a Triumph Tiger motorcycle.  I was early for cardiac rehab and there were few people around.  Surely the vampires were back in their coffins and the werewolves were asleep in the fields and forests.  And in minutes the dark shadows departed.  Perhaps 21 minutes on an elliptical trainer is the antidote for an imagination run amok.  Or a serious Alpine pass program on an exercise bike.  Or maybe I just grew tired of the mental exercising that often takes place when I’m thinking about things.

When I came out 90 minutes later the sun was shining and the world was a pleasant place.

But I miss the drama…