Scooter in the Sticks

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

A Simple Elegance

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For me riding is both simple and elegant. Each aspect of the machine and the ride constructing a satisfying experience. It’s reflected in the simple construction of the picture I made the last time I stopped at Barnes and Noble. Every element essential but nothing extra. That’s what I pursue on my scooter in the sticks. It’s not a perfect path but one that generally leads me where I want to go.

Pizza is simple. Especially one that costs $5.. Nothing fancy after a hard day at work. Strap the thing to the back of the Vespa and go. But not until the manager runs out and warns me that all the cheese will run off at that angle.

It didn’t.

A last stop for crab cakes and salad hung simply on the purse hook. That’s right, it’s called a purse hook. I’ve not used it for that yet but it has carried a lot of other stuff. If simplicity is going to go out the window it’s often because of mental triggers like purse hook, Barbie scooter, moped rider, things like that. Or it should I guess. So far I’m impervious to that sort of positive critique.
I’m writing this just after dawn. It’s 54F and crying out for a ride. The weather is changing and spring is approaching. Last night on the way home I stopped to look at the light filtering through the trees. Something is different. The sun is moving. Or my attitude is changing through solar tempering. I’m waiting for my friend Paul to arrive to we can head north. Or east. Somewhere. Anywhere. It’s just good to get out for once when I don’t have to worry about frostbite.

Riding a Triumph, Riding a Vespa

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A minor aside: This is my 300th post. Who would have known I would be writing about a Triumph.

After two weeks on the road with the Triumph America I had to give it back. During that time I was able to stretch my motorcycle legs and strengthen my scooter resolve. If something is going to pry me away from the Vespa GTS 250ie it isn’t the America.

I won’t say there is anything wrong with it. There is no doubt that the Triumph attracts some attention from other riders who are either curious about or appreciate the British bike mystique. Or at least the ghost of those earlier machines still evident in the styling lines of these modern offspring. To the general public it’s just another motorcycle. No curious inquiries like I get with the Vespa.
Commuting and running errands on the Triumph was easy but I was missing some kind of locking storage, someplace to guard my potato chips, library book, or digital camera. I suspect some kind of luggage is available but I wonder what it would do to those classic lines.
The big tires do a real nice job of smoothing out the road but it is almost cancelled out by the shake and rumble of the engine.

The most noticeable cost of those big tires though is the sacrifice in nimbleness on the road. The Vespa just feels much more responsive. Nimble. Quick. And much easier to stop. But each machine has their own strengths and weaknesses and what may be important to me would be a negative to someone else. Each rider needs to draw their own conclusions when it comes to selecting what they want to ride.

It was hot and windy when I headed for Altoona and I was surprised how badly the America was pushed around in a heavy crosswind. I assumed the size and weight would keep it in a straight line. At 55 mph I was afraid the road wasn’t wide enough to not suddenly be riding in a cornfield so I veered off onto a more dawdling route and enjoyed the trip a lot more.
I stopped a few times along the road to take some pictures and you really have to watch the Triumph in the gravel. A dirt bike it is not. The mass of the machine makes any use of the front brake a touchy enterprise. I can see why a lot of riders don’t like taking these things down the forest roads around here.
I retrieved the Vespa and headed straight home. It felt tiny and I recalled driving our 1970 VW Campmobile where you sat out over the front wheels with nothing in front of you. Same thing with the Vespa. Nothing out in front of you but air. You don’t see the front wheel.

Welcome back to the shiftless world. The quiet world, the darting, quick, and nimble world. One stop in an alfalfa field reminded me that I was home again with an agile little scooter.

As much as I wanted to get home I kept seeing places to stop to look around and take some pictures. Places I would ride past on the Triumph. So for me the Vespa remains the right ride. But if I have the chance to ride some other things I’ll take them. I’m open to the idea that there are other quick and nimble rides that will make it easy to do what I do.

Balance: On the Road and in Life

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Looking out over a quiet morning landscape reminds me of the possibility of balance. What it means and what it takes to achieve.

One of the reasons I ride so early in the morning is the world is still a simple place. Returning my father-in-law’s Vespa ET4 on a 60 mile ride at dawn swept everything away but the balance of the moment.

Waiting at traffic lights I try to balance the scooter. Feet up at a dead stop I count the seconds before balance evaporates. One, two, three seconds and the Vespa begins to travel towards the pavement. A 350-pound scooter is easy to manage and keep upright. That’s probably why I don’t see Harley and Goldwing riders playing the same game. This practice has done wonders for my own slow speed balance. Not sure how others practice.

Balance. A simple word with many implications. More than the obvious riding needs to keep the rubber side down. Riding home from work in the ends of a heavy rain called for another form of balance as I worked to manage my position on the road, with other vehicles and water lying randomly in my path. Speed, lane position, my intentions, suspicion of others, everything working together in an intuitive balance that manages risk.

Inputs affecting balance seem endless. When the dance on the road becomes too frenetic an alternative is always available. Stop, slow down, take another route. As long as my brain doesn’t interfere with my willingness to depart from a preconceived plan. Stubborn. Stupid.

Sitting this morning in the Boalsburg Griddle having breakfast I was struck by a sign from the Pennsylvania Liquor Control Board outlining their attempt to exert balance in the beer consumption arena. You can’t walk out with more than 192 ounces of beer. The need to balance is everywhere.

On the road it is a model of simplicity compared to the choices faced everyday in living. At least for me. Choices are more varied, their impact subtle, gray, and uncertain. As are the motives. Little wonder the struggle for balance rages from eyes open in the morning until I drift into oblivion at night. During that time though is the real juice of living.

It’s been almost a month since my last post. This one has been in my head simmering and blocking the way. Wrestling with balance at home, at work, it’s held my attention. Letting these words finally spill out in my Moleskine journal has brought balance. All is right in my world and the road ahead is now clear…

Riding at Dawn

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There is no better time to ride than at dawn. To be present to watch the genesis of a new day. To be happy and alive and riding on the earth. Those minutes between the glow of light and the first rays of sunlight are magical regardless of how I experience them. Looking out across the landscape at a group of trees in the fog reminds me of how simple things are.

At dawn the roads are empty. I watch more for deer than for vehicles. The temperature was 62 degrees and chilly as it poured through my vented jacket and t-shirt. Stopping for pictures gave me a moment to warm. On this day the sun was scheduled to arrive at 5:50 and since I didn’t get on the road until 5:40 I didn’t have much time.

On Saturday morning I was off for a 60-mile ride to meet my father-in-law Bob and swap my Vespa GTS for his Vespa ET4. I was bringing the ET4 back for service at the local Vespa dealer Kissell Motor Sports. I was only 12 miles from home as the sun swept out across the landscape.

Patches of fog diminished the full force of sunlight and a few times disappeared as I rode through some areas of dense fog. Fog is challenging. My scanning behind me becomes as intense as ahead. Pre-planning exit strategies for things fore and aft are appropriate in these conditions. The fog didn’t last long and the day was upon me.

Aside from a brief stop to inspect some water slides I rode directly to the meeting place and breakfast. Part of me wants to go back to those water slides when they’re open. Seems wrong that they are wasted on kids. They can have fun with a cardboard box. I require a more refined experience.

The switch from the GTS to the ET4 was noticeable both in size of the machine and in performance. Acceleration was noticeably less, stability was reduced, and a comfortable cruising speed was lower. The human brain is a wonderful thing though and by the time I stopped at Gardners Candies in Tyrone for a treat the ET4 felt pretty much like the GTS.

I didn’t stop much to shoot pictures on the way home. It was getting hot and the light was boring. I was reminded though of how easily the smaller scooter handles the road and can easily eat up miles all day long.

I’ll make the trip again after the ET4 is serviced. At breakfast I met a friend of Bob’s who has a new Triumph Bonneville that needs service. The next ride I may be shuttling a motorcycle instead of a scooter.

No Age Limit

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From time to time I wonder how long I’ll be able to ride. It happened today while slogging along a grass road. Grass does a good job hiding ruts, groundhog holes, and other jarring obstacles for little scooter tires and nice taps and twinges to aging joints. It’s during those episodes that I can start feeling old.

This past year I’ve noticed subtle changes that affect riding. An active imagination can easily construct a doomed future. The end of riding and beyond. These changes come in the form of increased hand and wrist pain, reduced tolerance to cold, and increased resistance to riding in adverse conditions. When occupied in this mental arena I search for evidence of continued activity and accomplishment. At an art museum recently I was doing age calculations of the artists – subtracting their birth date from the date of a work’s creation hoping for evidence that good things continue to happen.

When I stumbled upon Piaggio’s marketing project – NO AGE LIMIT – I was thrilled to see two riders in their 70’s riding across America.

Buddy and Bob are riding MP3 500’s from San Francisco to New York. Last time I checked they were in the Midwest. It’s a nice story and they have lots of pictures, maps and information about the trip. For many the ride is the most interesting part of the story but for me it’s the fact that these guys are still out there riding. I’ve always had in the back of my mind that when I got older or less sure on my feet that I would opt for one of those three-wheeled wonders. I guess Piaggio was thinking the same thing.