Scooter in the Sticks

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

The Cold Weather Riding Frame of Mind

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A morning drive, minivan, on the way to pick up my Vespa GTS.  But not until I pick up my daughter who’s agreed to drive the van home.

Not until we have breakfast at the Corner Room in State College, Pennsylvania, a place I’ve been eating at for the past 40 years.  When I find something I like I stick with it.  Training for an upcoming half marathon accounts for her wet hair.  I don’t understand running.

The scooter is home, safe in the driveway again.  The ride home was cold, 25F and windy.  Neglected to plug in the electric gloves and found myself warming my hands on the headlight at each traffic light.  Like the old days.  The pre-Gerbing gloves days.

Riding in the cold takes mental preparation that I’ve not done yet.  It’s more than gear, it’s a frame of mind that a rider has to place themselves in.  And right now it seems a far away place.

Left the scooter in the driveway thinking I would go for a ride later — after I warmed up.  I’ve been warming up for hours and am no closer to a ride.  In another hour it will be dark and even colder.  Maybe a good night’s sleep will help me enter the cold weather frame of mind.

My Dead Vespa

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It happened today — pressed the starter on the Vespa but it would not start. First thought was an empty fuel tank but that couldn’t be true; I monitor fuel closely.

With Kissell Motorsports a mile away and pressure mounting to get back to work I made the call. Fifteen minutes later the scooter was on the back of a truck headed to the shop.

Good fortune had my friend Paul and his girlfriend Mary just down the road.

In a few minutes Paul was inspecting the Vespa and quickly found the spark plug lead had come off the plug. Worse, the end of the plug had come off and was lodge in the plug boot.

So the Vespa will get a new plug along with the 30K kilometer maintenance . I’ll be ready for winter.

I’m posting from my iPhone using an app I’ve never used before so I’m unsure where the picture of Paul and Mary will appear.

Paul is serious with his inspections.

Should have the Vespa back soon.

The Simple Night Ride

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The past two evenings I’ve found myself on the road at night and with it a renewed appreciation of riding.  Many riders tell me they don’t ride at night — too dangerous, too cold, or no fun.  I read in riding books about the misguided riders who venture forth at night, in the rain, or in cold weather. 
Make no mistake; the risk of riding at night is greater than it is during the day.
This evening I was sitting at the traffic light at the corner of Allen Street and Beaver Avenue in State College, Pennsylvania looking at the Christmas lights when I turned off the engine and pushed the Vespa up onto the sidewalk to make this picture.  And to look a bit longer at the lights.  Just long enough to be on my way before finding out that there is a law against having the scooter posing for pictures on the sidewalk.
Off into the night, a changing pattern of color and light as I made my way home, a visual treat that just doesn’t exist during the day.
The night before I rode to the grocery store for supplies — empty streets and a quiet parking lot.  The night air was crisp but not cold at 42F.  What struck me most was the tapestry of fragrances arise from the darkness offering an experience unique to the night.
Riding home through the smell of charred meat at the steakhouse and on past gasoline fumes from a busy island of gas pumps.  Passing through a tony section of State College my helmet filled with the acrid smell of coal — someone burning coal for some unfathomable reason in a neighborhood.  I remembered the same smell from childhood driving through less tony neighborhoods in Mckees Rocks and Coraopolis.
Passing into the sticks I was greeted by the unmistakable smell of fermenting liquid cow manure from a nearby dairy farm, the farmer no doubt adding or withdrawing from a lagoon and releasing a reminder of food production.
At some point I shuddered for a moment, just a bit of excitement from my senses being roused to life, realizing (again) at how powerful a ride can be.  Walking into the house, skin warm, eyes bright and a spring in my step I was sure a grin was painted on my face.  
All courtesy of a simple night ride.

Little Rides on a Fall Day

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Last Sunday morning arrived cool and foggy, the kind of day I relish as photographer and rider.  The falling leaves signal a change in days, a shortness of light and warmth and the arrival of the official Vespa riding season.

Just down the street I pull over to ponder the ride.  The painted white arrows echo the conversation in my head, the uncertainty of which direction I should go.  Eventually I decide to ride directly to my Sunday morning meeting with Gordon to talk photography and drink tea.  But until I get there, I savor the ride, no matter how ordinary or short.

Scooter riders become familiar with the liberal interpretation of parking rules, especially when applied to spaces beyond the reach of the four-wheeled world.  I’m not sure if it’s legal to park here but so far I’ve not attracted the interest of the local parking constabulary.  It is after all, a moped.

Vespa riders are badasses.  We sit in a dark corner of the room, back to the wall, and survey the world that’s ours to explore.  With tea cup in one hand and my Canon G9 (I seem to have lost it somewhere) in the other, I record the view at Saint’s Cafe on a Sunday morning.

The ride home under a clear morning sky offers a different experience.  After nearly dumping the Vespa on a steep drop from pavement to gravel caused by hasty decision to explore I stop to admire the landscape and admonish myself for being a careless rider.  I suppose it’s always good to look in the mirror and remind yourself of those inner weaknesses.

Later that day, the sun on the other side of the horizon, I ride back to town to an appointment.  Another little ride, another reminder of how satisfying even the little rides on a fall day can be.
No reason to wait for extreme adventures to enjoy the satisfaction of riding.

The Hello Kitty Harley

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Nothing says Harley-Davidson like a Hello Kitty water bottle.  I spied this one on Paul Ruby’s Harley Crossbones and wondered how he missed the marketing messages that Harley has poured millions into — with much success I might add. I may have suggested a HOG member seeing it might confiscate his bike.

Now I wish I had held my tongue.  He must have been upset because he’s traded the Harley for a 2007 BMW K1200 GT.  Hello Kitty will be more at home there I guess.

Paul and I left early to ride to Altoona to pick up my father-in-law before riding on to a new breakfast spot. Light traffic, long lights, and the easy of parking the Vespa allow for some quick pictures like this one. 

Remember those cool tablets that they used to give out on the first day of school along with the giant green wooden pencils?  If you weren’t alive and in the first grade around 1960 forget I mentioned this.

Anyways, the Blank Book Company has been making school supplies, tablets, notebooks, etc, for over one hundred years.  This was their original building in Roaring Spring.  I can’t quite decide which is more unique — the architecture or the two Vespa scooters with the Harley.

Mamie’s in Martinsburg. While Paul checks the map to figure out where we are the cooks are preparing what was among the finest breakfast sandwiches I have ever devoured.  Devoured is the right verb.  I had a half steak and egg sandwich on homemade bread with grilled peppers and onions. 

I’m not a donut guy.  I’ll eat them but am not impressed.  At least not until I had one of Mamie’s donuts.  Fresh, warm, sugary.  This is the kind of donut that Homer Simpson would abandon his family for.

When I looked at the folder on my computer for images of this ride the donut was the last one even though we put another 65 miles on the odometer before reaching home.  The donut was the capstone experience for this ride.  Thank god I didn’t ride 1000 miles to find it.