Scooter in the Sticks

Exploring life on a Vespa, Royal Enfield Himalayan, Honda Trail 125, and a Kawasaki W650

Short Flights

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Saturday morning and I depart on the Vespa. The ride prepares me for the day. During the week the ride to work does it. Kim and I planned to take a trip later in the morning so my ride was necessarily short but I’ve found that I don’t need a lot of time on the scooter to settle down.

The sun was just coming over the trees, burning through the fog when I stopped at the crossing of Rock and Trout roads. Both signs indicate something about central Pennsylvania.

I’m always lured by unfamiliar or seldom traveled roads. Early morning finds many of the roads here empty and easy to just stop on the scooter and take a picture.

Moments later I pass a flock of wild turkeys but the camera is safely packed away. Traveling slowly I can hardly maintain my forward progress because I keep wanting to stop and take pictures. And there are always more roads and lanes and tracks to follow.

Surprises like the turkeys and new paths seem to always appear. Not always welcome though like suddenly coming upon a stinking section of road that was freshly oiled and chipped.

Something about spraying oil all over the road and dropping gravel and then more oil seems wrong. The rain last night had streaks of this stuff going everywhere. I haven’t wanted to look under the Vespa.

Spring Creek, a cold water stream and excellent trout stream is the recipient of whatever runs off these roads. Just can’t be good. The water looks clear.

My stomach gets the best of me and I stop in Bellefonte for breakfast.

One of the advantages of being an early morning person is that you often have the world to yourself. Many of my short rides have me home before a lot of people are moving around.

After breakfast I wandered home, ready for the day, thanks to another short flight on the Vespa.

Exploring the Road (Slowly)

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Roads and highways are designed for machines not people. Maybe that’s why often feel out of place stopped alongside one taking pictures or exploring the areas most people rush by. Count up all the miles of roads and that’s a lot of ground that has been delegated to invisibility beyond the general view.

I’ve passed the road cut in the picture above countless times in a car but never stopped to really look at it. It’s easy to stop on the Vespa and it never feels inconvenient no matter how many times I stop to look at a plant, rock, or view. It’s one of the strengths of a small scooter. In the car all the details are filtered away by speed and separation from the road. I’ve wondered if the same might be true if I were riding a bigger scooter or motorcycle—would I be seduced into the same rapid pace as a car? Judging by the other riders I see the answer would be yes.

My friend Frank Armstrong believes you need to be traveling no faster than 35 MPH to see anything photographically. (Correct me if I have this wrong Frank). I have found that to be true and when I used to explore in my truck it was painful to crawl along roads at 25 MPH. It just felt wrong. On the Vespa it feels just fine.

So I’m not sure how versatile and useful a motorcycle would be to me for the kind of riding experience I seek. Hard to imagine feeling comfortable and satisfied astride a Triumph Scrambler or BMW 1200 GS Adventure all afternoon at 35 MPH. If some manufacturer what’s me to test the theory with an extended loan I’ll experiment. Maybe I’m wrong.

I stopped again along Route 322 just to look at the road wind over the hill. How often do I stop in the truck?

I didn’t have any destination in mind on this ride and just kept wandering along turning and stopping as the whim hit me. Heading toward Black Moshannon State Park I passed Hannah Furnace Road.

A quick U-turn and off I go down a road that I hadn’t been on before. Asphalt turns to gravel and I have the chance to practice my skills a bit more until I am comfortable running along at 30 MPH without feeling like the scooter is going down at any moment.

After a few stops to look at plants and birds I rode on until joining US 322 again and headed home. Only traveled about 70 miles but it was a nice, relaxed ride…

Working and Riding

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They do mix. I’m not just talking about the ride to work or even as transportation to and from assignments. What I’m referring to is using the Vespa as a tool to do a better job.

The Luna Moth carcass I saw on the ground is one of those little details that are easy to miss if you aren’t paying attention. And there are things to see everywhere. Little hidden stories just waiting to be noticed.

Conventional behavior would have me behind the wheel of my truck or a rental van to get to and from the locations I need to visit. The windows would be up, air conditioner on, and whatever talk show I could find would be struggling to push out the boredom of sitting in a plush chair with not much to do. That’s probably why so many people drive with a cell phone to their ear.

I rode out to an experimental forest today to see how a small tract of forestland was being mapped and cataloged using the latest technology available. In order to identify the exact location of every stem, every species, and every diameter requires a lot of careful attention.

Scanning the gravel road surface for obstacles and loose areas, executing turns, applying throttle and brakes, the whole mechanical process of riding fuels a change in consciousness. Details grow larger and I see more. You need to be conscious and see more if you want to manage risk better. The resultant rise in awareness has benefits for a photographer. I notice things. Like the Luna Moth. I see differently now than I did when I wasn’t riding. It is easier to see foreground, background, subject, color, and light almost instantaneously. My eye pours over the viewfinder with a restlessness that just wasn’t there a few years ago. And I’m patient. Maybe it’s the digital camera or the onset of maturity but I can’t help but see a parallel between the ways I see while riding with photography.

I’m grateful to have a profession that places me out in the world and gives me a chance to look out across the natural landscapes here like this view out towards Tussey Mountain. On the way back to the office I stopped to look at a small creek running along the road. This homemade sign for Snake Hill Stables caught my eye and I just had to make a picture.

I can’t take the Vespa on every assignment. Sometimes I need room for passengers, have too much gear to haul along, or the scooter just is not a reasonable choice for some hi-speed, long-distance trips. But for many of them within 50 miles it’s ideal.


The GTS easily hauls a big camera bag and tripod that suitable for a lot of work. This past Monday I had to ride out to photograph an irrigation project, something not typical in Pennsylvania, and the Vespa was more than adequate.

So now I’m faced with a dilemma—how to deal with this new area of riding. I’m not sure what the policy is concerning blogging about work activity. I suppose I’ll have to ask.

A Blogging Community

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I’ve listened to dismissals of blogging as nothing more than personal spewing on the Internet. Spewing. Asked recently about privacy concerns I replied I don’t post anything I wouldn’t share with a stranger on the road. I differentiate personal and private, a line that varies from person to person.

There is a community of bloggers writing about riding, scooter, and motorcycles. Bill Sommers, author of Little Billy’s Scooter Tales, describes himself as a Scooter Evangelist. I suspect most of us who invest time and energy are doing so in part to share what we find important. The words, pictures and ideas I rind through the blogging community help fill gaps in inspiration and understanding.

John Rana, author of Who Rides a Vespa, recently did a profile on me as “part of the American Vespa scene”. Those words surprised me because I had not considered what place or role I play on that level. The fact that John is in the Philippines is some indication on the reach blogs can have. As so often is the case it is someone else’s observation that shines a light in my own perception.

Who Rides a Vespa offers a look at the state of things for scooter riders in another part of the world. And it reflects on the reach of the community of moto-bloggers.

It was an honor to work with John Rana and if you want to see the profile click the link below:

Rider’s Profile – Amerivespa series: Steve Williams

Habits of Industry

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I read it on the inside of a bottle cap.

“A man who gives his children habits of industry provides for them better than by giving them a fortune.” Richard Whatley

My parents gave me those gifts but I’m not sure I took them. Hard work over a long time has been my habit but on closer inspection they have mostly been labors of love. A habit of industry would have me playing the piano and guitar, speaking German and Italian, and the grass would be mowed, trim painted and the garden weed free. Those aren’t labors of love.

Reading Doug Klassen’s post Someday Might Slip By on Forty Years on Two Wheels about blogging, riding, not riding, and generally how time slips by if you aren’t careful with it made the bottle cap wisdom leap out as a reminder from above. Good thing I was riding a bit and paying attention.

I have been struggling for years to develop better habits of industry and not just live on inspiration to move me to action. I don’t want to have to be in the mood to work. If I wait for the mood to hit me to paint the trim around the house it just won’t happen.

I’m sitting at Barnes and Noble writing this just finishing up the dessert course. The Vespa is sitting right outside the window and I can watch people stop for a quick peek. I took the long way to get here considering I hadn’t planned to ride this way.

Stopped in town to look at the old fire escape on the Odd Fellows Hall. I have photographed it a number of times and I don’t seem to tire of looking at it. And I never have been able to figure out exactly what the Independent Order of Odd Fellows actually does. Even a look at their Web site didn’t help.

Riding through Lemont I stopped to look at the restored grain elevator and coal storage bins.

The Granary is one of those beautiful architectural gems than don’t often manage to get saved or restored.

Found another farm lane disappearing up along a cornfield that I couldn’t resist.

Getting more and more comfortable off the pavement. At the top of the hill was another view I’ve not seen before. I suspect there are many more.

I think I am almost ready to practice a habit of industry and mow the grass. Or wash the car. Both are unsavory tasks that don’t ever really need done do they?

Hell, I suppose its all part of growing up.