Drawing a deep breathe in the middle of a quiet field — a simple pleasure costing no more than the time it takes to get there.  This morning, stepping carefully through a pasture normally inhabited by Quarter Horses and Angus cattle, I stand and take in the world.

Complaining to a friend how difficult I always found it to relax — having tried yoga and meditation on and off through the year — I’ve found it by way of the Vespa.  Regardless of what crap inhabits my head a ride clears away the noise and leaves me weightless.

Out standing in the field.

The narrow paths, seldom traveled roads and lanes, each offering up their own tapestry of experience.  If only for a few minutes.  It hardly matters anymore where I go or what I see.  The act of riding surfaces supreme.

What a fine day it is.

A flash of lightning and my mind immediately begins counting to seven — the time it takes the associated sound to travel one mile.  I’ve been doing this for a long as I remember and apply it now as a tool to manage risk while riding home.

First trip to the scooter at the end of the day abandoned as I gazed at the blackening sky.  The iPhone displayed an angry orange line of storms approaching quickly and forcing a decision to return indoors.

An hour later, after the lightning and heavy winds it was time to ride home in a light rain with scatter rumbling and an occasional flash of electrical menace. The new windscreen does a surprisingly good job of keeping rain off my body, at least while in motion, and providing a small sense of weather protection.  Like the topcase before it the screen has proved a valuable investment.

Stopping at the grocery store I made this picture and posted to Twitter with the message “Necessary stop for groceries. #Vespa waits while lightning crackles overhead. #dumb”.

The current count was 12 seconds.

Almost home, one last stop, one last questioning of the reasoning behind choosing to ride during inclement weather.  There is a rigor to it, a testing and questioning, “Are you made of stern stuff?”.

Whatever the answer I arrive home satisfied.  And still counting.

Parked the Vespa outside Ken Hull’s moto hangout in Boalsburg, Pennsylvania last week for the second installment of Piston and Pints — an eclectic gathering of riders from the area.  I was the first one there and was delighted after a ride from work with the road level temperature pushing triple digits to sit   on a couch and sip an ice cold lemonade.

My friend Paul Ruby arrived and made himself at home on an 80cc (?) Yamaha dirt bike.  Ken’s garage is kind of cozy and reminds me again I need to clean mine up.  Maybe someday I’ll entertain some sort of festive occasion myself.

Dave Dix and Ken Hull took advantage of the shelter from the sun, at least until it lowered in the sky and the temperature moderated a bit. Last time Dave showed up in a Honda C-RV.  This time he arrived on a 150cc Honda scooter.  He grudgingly admitted he liked the think but was also troubled that he liked it.  I’m sure the next time he’ll show up with his BMW motorcycle.

There was a completely different collection of motorcycles present on this evening including this tall, big, goliath of a motorcycle — the Yamaha Super Tenere (sorry Yamaha but I can’t figure out how to put accents on the ‘e’s).  Billed as a motorcycle for intercontinental adventure I could see how one would feel the road has no limits.  At least until you find yourself on a little hiking trail.

The owner was a pleasant fellow though I didn’t get to talk to him much.  He was the only one there who confessed to riding in the winter though his lower temperature limit was 35F.

I like the looks of the bike.

Ken like the looks of Paul’s Ducati 1198 which always looks dazzling due to Paul’s expertise with a soft cotton diaper.  There was a lengthy discussion of cleaning chains and the best method to keeping them looking all clean and shiny.  I seem to remember my eyes rolling back into my head about this point of the evening and wondering if I should clean the toilet when I get home or watch Rebus on Netflix.

While this was happening Ken was dropping subtle hints about how cool it would be to take the Ducati for a spin.  The conversation moved into the inevitable lies and prevarications about speeding down the highway on a motorcycle — like fish stories — except these were measured in miles per hour rather than pounds and inches.

I think 142 mph was the biggest number I heard.  For awhile I thought I might be able to pipe in that I once had the speedometer on the Vespa hitting 80.  I had to fold quickly though.

Ask anyone — I don’t do crowds.  Or events or group rides.  Something in my DNA makes me nervous when there are more than a handful of people around.  At least in social situations.  Work is a different story — bring on the crowds.  Piston and Pints has been a pleasant surprise and I feel at home (even though I’ the sole scooterist so far) among the motorcycle riders.  As a sign of respect and concern I warn the collective community to hold their ears before I ignite the engine on the Vespa.

Seriously though, it’s kind of cool to listen to people who are extremely knowledgeable about their machines and have incredible recall of details about every part, process and procedure related to the mechanical and electrical workings of a motorcycle.  I’m hoping a comparable scooter type appears some evening in case I have some questions.

After two Piston and Pints events I have to judge Ken’s riding event a qualified success.  If you live within easy riding distance of Boalsburg you should plan to stop by and say hello, tell some stories, make some friends.

Make a note:  Every 1st and 3rd Tuesday from 5pm to 8pm Ken will have the door open — motorcycles, scooters, talk, refreshments.  A pleasant way to spend an evening.

I sat on the scooter at the end of the driveway this morning for five minutes trying to decide whether to go left or go right. I had no interest or desire to go anywhere in particular; just a pressing need to ride.

Somewhere.  Anywhere.  Just feel the wind and the world moving past, eyes growing full of scene after scene, color, texture, things and places.  A swirling mind slowly tamed into a focused, relaxed place.  Twenty minutes later I had passed over two ridge lines of the Appalachian Mountains and was wandering through lush forest growth and the occasional patch of rain from threatening skies.

Decisions led from one road to another, usually more isolated and less traveled, mind working on the road and little else.  A welcome, essential, necessary process for me.  I often wonder how many riders find solace in riding.  Many speak of recreation, camaraderie and adventure.  Few of solace.

The threat of rain never grew beyond moments of light rain.  Instead the temperature remained pleasant and the need to fight the glare of the sun was gone.  No stops for food or gas or water.  Just a relaxed movement ahead, on and on and then home again.

One hundred miles of recharge.  At least that’s how it seemed.

It was a good day to ride.

It’s depressing to have five days off work and find the temperature so oppressive the thought of riding is only marginally better than cleaning the bathroom or mowing the grass.  The air-conditioned view out the window belies the riding situation — the world today is outside my sweet spot.  I thrive between 50F and 70F.  Below is a challenge of planning and clothing.  Above is just an increasingly miserable torture.

I don’t like the heat.  Standing in the field making this picture brought back memories of misery at the BMW International Rally last summer in Bloomsburg, Pennsylvania where I witnessed for the first time  riders and their bikes being hosed down with cold water lest they melt and die.

The forecast doesn’t suggest a heat reduction until Sunday; an then only into the 80s.

It was so hot I was having trouble seeing at times when I stopped as sweat burned my eyes.  The verbascum plant reminds me of the hottest times of the summer standing tall like a torch when everything else seeking the solace of shade. The Vespa is usually a reliable cooling device.  Today, just a machine to increase the velocity of hot air burning away my will to live.