Scooter in the Sticks

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

The Vespa is Ready for Winter Riding

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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.

Ride More and Aerostich

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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.

View Through My Visor

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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….

Strangeness and Murk

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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…

Attitude Adjustment: Riding at the End of the Week

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I needed to be out in the world, riding, or making photographs, I’m not sure which.  The mist cum rain shrouded the mountains in a dark gloom.  Seven miles from home, the gray ribbon of limestone and mud flows through stands of White Pine and hemlock, oak and ash trees creating a sensual canvas of sight and smell that I can’t resist.  Triggering those senses serves to reset a mind and body drawn thin from a week of work.

My first visit to this part of Rothrock State Forest came over 40 years ago when I drove a Volkswagen Beetle along the roads I continue to prowl on the Vespa.  Thinking about the vehicles I have owned during my life I see a trend of spartan power and performance right up to the Honda Fit sitting in the driveway now.

The rain was light, just enough moisture to keep the camera wet and continually wiping the helmet visor with my glove.  When I traverse these kinds of roads, especially when wet, I find myself wishing I had more aggressive tires.  Too early for the Heidenau winter tires and too late to change out the summer ones.  Even so, I can safely manage the scooter from 25 to 40mph depending on the amount of loose gravel, washboard sections, mud or crown height.  Riding a scooter on wet gravel roads is a different piece of business from riding a motorcycle.

I suppose it’s part of the mental attraction to a ride serving now purpose beyond hitting the reset switch in my brain and perhaps tease the lizard brain.

Central Pennsylvania is a beautiful place in the fall.  Riding through the woods I expected to see a black bear or two loping along the road or crossing in front of me.  I’ve seen it before on foot or in the car.

But nothing this evening, just a few deer and the odd squirrel.  It’s cold enough now I don’t worry about rattlesnakes as I tromp through the weeds and brush.  The deer tick is the only evil worth paying attention to at the moment.

The Vespa can go just about anywhere a motorcycle can.  Perhaps not as fast or with the same mechanical prowess, but it is a capable little machine.  At least until you encounter water.

I expected to see pools of water but hoped to avoid any flooded areas which I did.  But the low air intake on the scooter makes it a poor candidate for any sort of foolishness involving water or deep mud encounters.  Doesn’t take much liquid or debris being sucked into the engine to cut a ride short.

Possibly permanently.

I make sure to avoid water where possible and to absolutely know how deep a murky flow is before attempting any riding heroics.

My hope for drama in the sky with fog in the valley were dashed as I looked east towards Detweiler Natural Area and the Seven Mountains beyond.  Not even an eagle soaring overhead or a screech owl to serenade me before turning towards home.

As the day began to fade my eyes adjusted for darting deer and the black bear I still hoped to see. I’m amazed at how well a ride continues to demonstrate a unique power to transform my attitude and outlook on life.

Sitting at home now thinking of other rides and what the next will bring.  Until then a cup of tea and thoughts of dinner will transform the world again…