Exploring life on a Vespa Scooter and Royal Enfield Himalayan motorcycle.
With a lot of discussion lately focused on snow and riding I took a look around YouTube and found a short film that explores some of the possibilities of riding on snow and ice. The first look at a winter equipped Vespa takes place at 2:09. Take a look at some of the scooters racing around the track in Germany — Those aggressive studs make it possible to really lean into a turn!
The video was produced by the S.I.P. Scooter Shop in Germany.
Braving the cold in an unheated garage, tools strewn across the concrete floor, the scooter is now ready for winter. Tires, oil, antifreeze, all changed and checked. Surveying the mess I am reminded of how disorganized I can be. I’ll never have one of those workshops that appear in The Garage Journal.
A quick ride to make sure the wheels don’t fall off and the oil stays in the engine. The Heidenau K66 SnowTex tire’s aggressive tread pattern and extra sticky grip provide a little more security on cold, wet and snowy roads. They feel weird at first, like riding on big balloons. That feeling quickly disappears.
The weather forecast calls for 19F in the morning with snow showers. I’ll look in the mirror tomorrow morning and ask that guy if he wants to ride.
Aerostich is responsible for this ride. Seriously, had I not looked through their catalog last night and read “The World’s Coolest Ride” by Mr. Subjective, I would not have chosen the cold this morning. It’s nice to have a reminder to ride when the weather conspires against instinct.
At 29F my hands get cold fast when the gloves come off to make a picture. But it’s worth it to stand in the flow of sunlight.
The Aerostich story says we humans are natural risk managers and improve with success. I know there’s more risk when the temperature drops below the freezing point. Idiots about dumping coffee and other liquids from their vehicles onto the road. And natural springs contribute to the possibilities. Managing these and other obstacles bring focus to life.
Besides, it’s great to see the sunrise in the open.
Like all rides of late food is involved. This morning I met my friend Howard for breakfast at the Naked Egg Cafe in Pine Grove Mills, Pennsylvania. Warm inside and cold out. Nice to beat the rush. Breakfast was, as usual, stellar.
Not sure what Howard ordered, some kind of Southwest breakfast, but it sure was pretty. I opted for my usual bacon, eggs, and this morning the absolute best tater tots I’ve had the opportunity to eat.
Aerostich offers hints on how to ride more and sells a T-shirt by the same name. I’ve been looking at those hints and have the desire for a Roadcrafter suit in my head again. Would make things much easier to deal with when it’s cold. Dressing for cold rides takes time right now.
Warmer tomorrow — 32F at sunrise. Balmy.
Ride More. That’s my motto at the moment.
Seeing is an intoxication. Over 40 years as a photographer has not dulled the desire to look, observe, watch. Riding a scooter or motorcycle has been useful tool in extending that habit, or more likely, obsession.
The ride to and from work continues to provide opportunities to practice with the camera and the eye. The image above was made on the way home from work, a hilltop I’ve seen a thousand times and still there is something new. A different hue, tone, or glow of light. The Vespa makes it possible to stop and make a picture.
Mount Nittany glows like Ayers Rock. The last few minutes of light as the sun touches the horizon, the odd afterglow as it descends — it’s never the same. Riding home, winding along the gravel paths used by vehicles attending Penn State football games, there are often views I’ve not felt before. The Vespa on the center stand, a quick removal of the Canon G15 from under the seat, and then I’m gone.
The house that Joe Paterno built — Beaver Stadium as it appeared on my way to work. While waiting at a traffic light I pushed the scooter to the side of the road to make this image. A few seconds of my time and off again.
Just a few of the views through my visor….
There’s a full moon overhead and the plaintive sound of a worried dog drifts in the window along with the cool, damp air. Something is happening as the world resigns itself to the coming of winter. Everywhere there are signs of the strangeness that seems to follow the murk.
Where has the light gone?
Historic Boalsburg absorbs the changing of the season and soon will be looking towards its Victorian celebration of Christmas. Dead leaves are beginning to pile on the road offering unsuspecting riders a slippery surprise if they’re not careful.
This Vespa parking space is just a couple hundred feet from Ken Hull’s Moto Hang Lounge — home of Pistons and Pints.
Halloween isn’t far off and the artist’s in State College, Pennsylvania seem to be embracing the chaos of the season. Unfortunately, the model in this painting must have been riding without a helmet, something every rider should think hard about before pressing the starter button lest you look like part of the Halloween landscape.
Junior seems unfazed by the change in the earth’s energy and whiles away his days eating, sleeping and chasing women when he can. Border Collie’s are fast but so are Belgian Sheepdogs. Try as she might she just couldn’t open any distance between herself and his ardent pursuit. Junior’s no dummy though — he’s hedged his bets by carrying a tennis ball on the chase should there be a change of plans.
Somehow, looking at this picture, I keep thinking of Jack Riepe…
Riding in the murk — I have to admit that I love it. The gray, dark, damp days where the sun struggles to be seen. Even short rides can turn into gothic novels. Mount Nittany, an icon of Penn State, remains a fascinating subject to me, not unlike the Vespa itself. Not sure why, I just keeping running the camera in it’s direction.
Trips to Saint’s Cafe are far more satisfying when the world feels forbidding, when the fading light along forested roads reveal shadows of phantoms and ghosts and others of my twisting imagination. As Gordon talks with another patron I could not help think of how the place could be a scene from Dark Shadows and at any moment Barnabas Collins would join us for tea.
The delusion flew as I realized Collins is a vampire and he wouldn’t be joining us in the daylight.
Thankfully, I have a good dog to keep me safe and grounded lest the season sweep me deep into the eerie terrain of mystical stories where much seems possible. And just as it was at 9 or 10, I loved this time of year when spooks and demons became as real as Superman and the Man from U.N.C.L.E.
And now, as then, my trusty dog stayed close to keep the bogeyman at bay…