Scooter in the Sticks

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

Dispatch from Maine

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Apologies for not writing sooner. Amazing how a trip away from home can lead a person to abandon responsibility and work. From the Maine coast I have time to reflect on life and recharge my creative batteries with a bit of rest and relaxation. Two mornings ago I found myself on the beach waiting for the sun to appear over the Atlantic. My restless spirit is eased in the broad, open expanse of ocean. Or in the desert.

Ogunquit, Maine must be scooter friendly since the local parking enforcement people ride a Honda Ruckus. Nice big tires for travel in the sand. The search is on for scooter or motorcycle rentals for a scooter near the ocean experience.

Fido’s sad face interrupted an otherwise serene morning walk as I thought about my own poor dog back in Pennsylvania staying with a dog sitter. He must be sad since I’m gone and he worships the ground upon which I stride.

Kim has managed to return to the beach for an hour or so after a nine-year absence. Like me, she finds magic here.

More to come. Unless I just say the heck with it all, I’m on vacation.

First Ride of a Warming Season

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Standing in front of the brightly colored window I felt some elation that the temperature had soared to 60F when my friend Paul Ruby and I had stopped for breakfast at the Bird House Restaurant in Montoursville, Pennsylvania. I needed to believe that winter was falling quickly behind and spring was just around the next bend.

I underdressed for the ride thinking it would be warmer sooner. And I didn’t take into account the sudden changes in temperature that can occur in the mountains. When I stopped about 30 miles from home to send a Twitter in the Sticks update my fingers were beginning to get stiff at 50F in non-electric gloves. Riding over the first ridge the temperature indicator on the Vespa hit 62F only to drop to 42F a mile later as the road descended through a narrow valley. Luckily I had the Gerbing Electric gloves under the seat.
There are lots of curves and tight turns as the road moves north through the Tiadaghton State Forest. Moisture and sporadic remnants of gravel, salt, and sand made traction dicey in places. Paul and I stopped to make a few pictures and stretch our legs (and backs). It’s hell to get old.
I went through the curve another time so Paul could make a picture of me. I’ll never have to worry about dragging anything on the ground unless it’s hanging off the scooter because I didn’t pack something correctly.
Breakfast was simple and delicious. I think I enjoy it as much as I do the riding. This time I remembered to take a picture after only one bite of toast rather than the usual empty plate picture.
Paul waxes poetically about life, art, and poetry. And eBay. He makes his living on eBay and is not pleased with some of the changes made to that system.
Every poet-adventurer needs a brass compass. Across the street from the restaurant was an Army-Navy Store with a selection of them. This was a nice one as compasses go. But who uses them anymore?
A stop along the Wyalusing Path (US 220) on our way north to Eagles Mere. Scooters and motorcycles fascinate me as sculptural objects. I suppose it’s why I can continue to photograph the Vespa. One of these days I’ll exhaust that fascination but for now I’m content doing what I’m doing.
Paul made another picture of me – the well-prepared photographer – a Canon G9 around my neck and a Leica M6 in my right hand. Those electric gloves remind me of what the kids wear in the Family Circus comics.
Eagles Mere is an old Victorian resort community dating back to the late 1800s. We stopped to look at the toboggan run that is now closed for the season. The town closes off a long street that slopes down to the lake.
When we walked down and took a look at the run I could hardly believe the scale. The track ran far out onto the lake and I couldn’t imagine how fast it would be. I would have loved this as a kid. I might even like it now.
The ride home took us through a lot of still melting mountainsides, reminders of how much more severe the weather would be here. Once we emerged into the Susquehanna River Valley the thermometer was pushing 70F as we ran towards home. The Vespa GTS 250ie purred along the 43-mile freeway segment of US 220 at 70mph. Not the most relaxing way to ride but nice to know the scooter is capable of high speed travel for sustained periods of time.  It was nice to get out and put 205 miles of road underneath me.

It’s gotten cold and wet again but I’ve had a taste of warm weather and longer rides. Anything less will be frustrating.