Scooter in the Sticks

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

Sometimes a Vespa Isn’t Enough

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First let me apologize for the fuzziness of this self-portrait. I think the excitement of the moment may have gotten to me as I sat the camera on the trunk of the car rather than use a tripod.

Yes, it’s a new Ducati Superbike 1098. Six-speed, 1099cc, 160 horsepower, 381-pound example of engineering excellence not to speak of my favorite yellow color. There is not a bit of chrome on this motorcycle and everything is machined and manufactured to the highest standards right down to the exotic rear axle. No matter what your personal riding preference is it is hard to not be impressed by the machine. But more of the new Ducati in a moment.

Rewind to earlier in the day.

Since my first days of Vespa ownership I have fielded a lot of questions about safety and specifically a lot about the relative safety of a vehicle that many assume to be underpowered for any travel on the road. They have an idea that unless you have a lot of horsepower you just won’t be able to get out of all those dangerous situations you come across while on the highway.

Seeing beasts like this John Deere whatever the hell it is (I think it is a spray vehicle but not sure what the exact application is) is the sort of thing that gets lodged in a driver’s subconscious and drawn forth when making the motorcycle safety and power arguments. I was standing in a cornfield when this little fellow went by and it seemed more Triceratops than Tyrannosaurus Rex. Just a big ambling brute interested in nothing more than plants.

But lets get back to the new Ducati. If any of you regular readers think I abandoned the Vespa GTS 250ie shame on you. You should know me better than that by now. This baby was less than one hour new and belongs to my friend Paul Ruby who just traded his Harley Davidson Fatboy for it.

Paul has being weighing this move for a while. Looking at it I can tell than he is enthralled by the pure mechanical excellence. Paul loves machines. And he tells me now that he has one of every Italian vehicle — a Ferrari, a vintage Vespa, and now a Ducati. Car, scooter, motorcycle. I asked about a Fiat truck and didn’t bring up airplanes or boats. Either way it is an impressive mechanical collection.

I want to ride. A lot. And I question the utility of the Ducati with the most uncomfortable seat I have ever had the pleasure of sitting on and a riding position that reminds me more of the prostate examination position and discomfort than anything to do with a motorcycle. But that’s just me. And the Ducati is still, despite that, a work of art.

He plans to make long rides on this thing. No topcase or sidebags available for this. At least not that I can imagine. There is storage space behind the rear seat. It’s large enough for the screwdriver Ducati provides as a toolkit and you could fit a toothbrush and small box of raisins too.

This weekend perhaps Paul and I will ride around together. Two guys on some of Italy’s finest examples of engineering.

Congratulations Paul on your new Ducati!

Morning Consciousness

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Thank Kim for these pictures being made. Once again she notifies me at 5 AM that there’s fog in the sticks.

This morning the fog is varied and patchy. I’ve been becoming so attuned to the landscape and making photographs that the ride is becoming almost invisible. If you have a desire to slow down then a may help. The route I travel this morning would normally run between 35 and 55 MPH. I’m moving at 15 to 35MPH and stopping a lot. It takes over an hour to cover the first 15 miles.

But how can I pass scenes like this tree lined, fog shrouded passageway?

When I do stop I pull both earplugs out so I am aware of any traffic appearing out of nowhere. Amazingly I saw only one vehicle in the first hour. Does everyone realize what they’re missing at this time of day?

Farther along, about 25 miles from home I cruise through a gap in Bald Eagle Mountain that almost looks alpine.

As I start to look around with the camera I realize I could spend a lot of time here but my stomach is growling loud enough to send me on my way. A few quick pictures and I am on my way to breakfast.

The Cool Beans Cafe in Bellefonte is one of several possible breakfast stops. With town still largely asleep I can park right out front and have my choice of locations that I decide will be one of the small tables out front.

After a bit of waffling over what to have I decide to go simple — a bagel and a cup of hot chocolate. I was surprised at the artistry involved especially with the hot chocolate. It was almost a meal in itself.

It pays to be conscious early some days.

Memorial Day Ride

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Almost a week has passed since I started this post. Sometimes it takes awhile to arrest the thoughts on paper.

The following was written on the morning of May 28, 2007.

Cool Morning. Fog. At Whipple Dam State Park, birdsong and the sound of water pouring over the spillway fills the air. Aside from an old man chasing geese off the beach on the other side of the lake I have the place to myself.

The road to the park winds over Tussey Mountain, through the woods and along Standing Stone Creek. The first hint of sunlight pushes through the fog causing some of the trees to glow.

I’ve been reading “A Sense of the World” by Jason Roberts. It’s the story of James Holman, British Royal Navy officer, Knight of Windsor, and adventurer. What makes his story unique is that he undertook a circumnavigation of the world by land and sea in the early 1800’s after becoming blind and fighting debilitating pain. Whenever I find myself concerned with the minor extremes I face while riding I will recall Holman’s winter trip across Siberia in a horse drawn sledge.

A breakfast of cheese and Melba toast, nuts, raisins, and a fresh orange seems a perfect counter to the familiar hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs I usually eat on a ride. A bullfrog croaks agreement just a few yards away. A family of geese visit hoping for a handout. I politely decline not wanting to reinforce bad behavior — theirs or mine.

The man chasing geese arrives on my side of the lake to continue his geese chasing and other activities to ready the park for the day. We talk for a while and he tells me he has recently retired from park service at age 86. Looking at him I would have guessed 75 tops. His secret is a daily glass of vinegar.

The conversation turns briefly to Memorial Day and he tells me his son was a Marine and died in 1968. We both are quiet for a while.

I feel grateful. Not just to have the opportunity to sit here but for the life and opportunity I have. On Memorial Day I need to remember is comes with a cost.

End of Entry.

A cost. That’s where I stopped writing. I kept thinking about the cost for the rest of the week.

Later that day I walked through the Pennsylvania Military Museum grounds and looked at the monuments signifying places like Antietam, Gettysburg, Meuse-Argonne, Normandy, and Ardennes-Alsace. Names carved in granite, row after row, memories of lives lost far from home, reminders of the solemn cost of my own gratitude.

I’m not sure what I think of the celebrations wrapped around Memorial Day. In town we have carnivals, car shows, craft festivals, music and food. Perhaps a fitting memorial is the existence of celebrations.

Pie contest on Main Street.

Old firetruck at Car Show

Another Memorial Day has passed but the reminders linger.

Foggy Sunday Morning

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At 5:30 AM Kim asked me if it was foggy outside. Fog is almost always a sure bet to get me out of bed but today she had to ask twice. By 6:00 AM I was on the road in a damp 60° F fog. Riding was slower than normal due to the almost immediate fogging of my visor when it was down and my glasses when it was up. I forgot to pack the handkerchiefs I normal bring just for this reason. I watched closely for vehicles that might run up behind me but there wasn’t any traffic at this time of the morning. There was an seemingly endless supply of subjects and landscapes calling to my camera. Here are a few of the images I made during the ride.

Almost everything that is ordinary in clear weather takes on new life in the fog. I’ve passed this dirt lane many times without giving it a second look. Today it led somewhere special.

Farther up the lane was this island of trees. If I figure out who owns this property I might ask permission to explore more closely.

Every crossroad, fence, and field looked great. I am still amazed that everyone is still asleep during the best time of the day. I saw the first vehicle while making this picture. That was 40 minutes after I left the house.

On the way up through Blackhawk Gap I stopped to photograph a few Vespa admirers. You can see one just above and to the left of the scooter.

Rural, Brown Swiss heifers and Vespa admirers.


A stop in Bellefonte to sit in the park and eat the breakfast I packed.

One of the statues in front of the Bellefonte courthouse. I sat on the bench in the background to eat and watch Bellefonte wake up. It was still pretty much asleep when I left.

On the way home as the sun just begins to burn through the fog. We have a lot of fantastic roads for leisurely riding here and they just go on and on north into New York, south into Maryland and West Virginia, east into New Jersey and west into Ohio.

By the time I got home the sky was blue and the sun was heating things up. A quick stop at the store for mild and then home to post this entry and then relax and work in the garden.

Fun and Excitement

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Already frightening in the daylight, imagine the wild fun and excitement these horses will offer at night.

Not every ride can be an extended exploration. Some days are reserved for work, errands and other adult responsibilities. The ride can be reduced to simple two-wheeled navigation between point A and B. For me this most commonly occurs as the straight (relatively speaking) commute back and forth to work. And this is where many recreational riders miss an opportunity. The same sort of discovery, freedom and adventure you find on the weekend may be available during the week if you pay attention albeit on a much smaller scale. And even on the smaller scale they are rewarding.

All alone in the carnival midway.

Coming home yesterday on my normal short route I spied the rides had gone up for the upcoming fireman’s carnival. This little event is less than a half-mile from my front door and starts tonight. Our sleepy little town is briefly transformed into a brightly colored one. And this year we have the Zipper! Walking around in the empty midway I was almost transported back to similar events I remember from my youth. Memories. On some level it’s what riding is all about for me.

A Vespa GTS 250ie looks right at home in the front yard.

The Vespa GTS has continued to perform flawlessly. The odometer will hit the 2000 mile mark about the time I hit the end of the street on the way to work this morning. Regardless of what you ride, if you keep your brain open, I’ll bet one of these scooters will make you smile. If you need more engineering and aesthetic evidence of the Vespa GTS pay a visit to the Road Test of the Vespa GTS250ie on Rush Hour Rambling and read what a serious rider thinks of this machine.