Allen Street in State College, Pennsylvania on Sunday morning — would have been fine to ride the Vespa in to town.  Roads were mostly clear.  I passed the opportunity in favor of warmth.  I can only attribute this weaseling decision to aging, some treacherous biological process of confiscation of all that’s good in life.  There are always opportunities for recovering missed opportunities.  As I type the thermometer has descended to 9F in the dark amidst a 25mph wind and promises to settle near -5F by dawn.  No snow or ice so I could ride to work.  But I digress…

I’ve been thinking a lot about photography lately, or more precisely how little time I spend making photographs.  I don’t count the ones you see here for some reason, or the ones I make professionally.  If its digital it doesn’t count.  Instead I continue to puzzle over how to bring the 3 Prints Project back into my creative life.  A hole remains where those silver prints used to reside.  It’s a crazy thing that I’m not ready to explain.

My friend Paul Ruby showed up at Saint’s Cafe with a box full of prints.  Digital prints.  And the one that resonated strongly was crafted to look like a platinum print despite being shot with a digital camera, processed with Photoshop and printed on exhibition grade fiber paper with an Epson 3880 printer.

Looking at that print had visions of Tri-X dancing in my head.  With no Vespa available to distract me the chemical photography scheming continued to grow.

Gordon Harkins, the third leg of our photographic meetings, (or maybe he’s the first leg?) did his best to distract us with his brand new Canon DSLR camera (a 6D?) that was able to operate wirelessly from an iPhone.  It was like magic.

Being an engineer, Paul was completely enthralled with the electrical wizardry.  Why couldn’t I get caught up in the same wave of astonishment instead of dreaming about mixing chemicals, processing film and making prints?  This is 2014 and film has to be dead.

I’m stubborn I guess…

Junior said no and who am I to argue?  And it was only 5F.  There’s always tomorrow…

The year draws to a close and I’m thinking about what I’ve passed on the road and what lies ahead — family, friends, riding, work, writing and photography just to name a few of the things swirling through my head.  Riding alone on sunny winter day can help tame the mental noise and begin putting a face on the things that raise questions.  With the temperature near 40F I decided to head out through the valley for quiet and food.

Little snow left today though plenty of gravel and grit still around making for awkward handling in a curve for an unsuspecting rider.  Riding along Penn’s Creek, a well known trout fishing spot, saw few cars and fewer fisherman.  A nice place to ride when you want to think.

Today was an example of the many days in winter where riding is simple and easy.  Clear roads and moderate temperatures provide a recurring opportunities to be on two wheels.  Snow on the side of the road doesn’t mean the pavement isn’t clear.

Ended up in Millheim, Pennsylvania at the Inglebean Coffee House for breakfast.  Always enjoy a stop for food and to scribble a few notes in a journal before moving on.

You can’t see it but there was a big patch of ice on that first turn — another reason why no matter how clear the roads seem you really do need to ride no faster than you can stop when you see something.  That’s an important part of winter riding.

Mostly today the ride was about unwinding and relaxing.

It worked.

Routine and repetition — another Sunday morning ride on the Vespa to Saint’s Cafe to meet Paul and Gordon.  The snow has vanished amidst a 60 degree December heat meaning more days to ride. Even though winter is decidedly not considered motorcycle riding weather the reality is that most days through the year are rideable.

But who cares…

Hints of Christmas are everywhere but still something is missing.  Not feeling the magic at the moment but there is still time.

Each encounter at Saint’s Cafe has a unique flavor.  This week the discussion, in part, focused on The Death of Photography.  Sitting here now I realize I don’t care if photography is alive or dead.

This picture of my food, or rather the detritus of my breakfast, indicates that photography truly is dead.

Oh well…