Scooter in the Sticks

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

Front Door Decisions

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Just a brief dispatch from the sticks. Lately it seems I stand at the front door every morning deciding whether I will ride or drive. Weather, work activity, or just how I feel. I make a conscious decision on whether to roll the Vespa out of the garage. This morning the temperature was steady at 35 degrees with snow flurries. I wondered whether I would get half way to work and the snow would start to stick on the road. Or on the way home.

I haven’t been riding much lately so that made the decision pretty easy. Later in the season the decision would be faster. The cold weather still has me on edge. My blood seems thin. Stopping to take a picture with some of the last colored leaves of fall I could feel my hands getting cold as I fumbled with the camera. Again thoughts of heated gloves dance in my head. Arriving at work I knew I made the right decision and plenty of motorcycle spaces were available. The only other two-wheeled vehicle in the lot was a friends Yamaha 125 Vino.

Tomorrow will bring similar weather and another decision…

Wet Leaves and Other Natural Wonders

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Not much riding this week. Work kept me in need of the truck. A collection of unfortunate coincidence. When I finally rolled out of the driveway yesterday it was onto wet pavement and leaves. At this time of year the roads have a lot of them and when wet they can be like ice. More reminders of things to come.


I had things to do at work so I had to get up a bit early to give myself time to meander into the office. The clouds quickly gave way to blue sky and warming temperatures. The red barn was just part of the illuminated landscape. With all the apparent color it made perfect sense that I would choose this morning to bring along a camera loaded with black and white film.


Ever the thoughtful planner I left the camera on the front seat of the truck in the driveway to enjoy the 29-degree chill. The moment I removed the lens cap the cold glass introduced to the moist air created a mini-fog on the front element. I grew impatient waiting for the sun to clear things up so I unzipped and unbuttoned down to my black t-shirt and wiped the lens clean so I could make a few exposures. Nothing like an old worn t-shirt to clean a lens.


In spite of turning my camera on these open farmlands with sweeping trees a hundred times I’m still smitten. And surprised. I swear sometimes the places are rearranged. Time and chemistry will reveal surprise or frustration—probably tomorrow evening. Riding on I came across another interesting natural hazard – the Osage Orange.


There is a large Osage Orange tree along one of the country roads I sometimes ride to work on. The fruit are about the size of softballs, hard, and heavy. Another instance where a helmet is a nice thing.


These specimens along the road seem innocent enough until you realize the tree is on the other side of the road. Lots of these guys fall on the road and I have to thing more than a few have struck the unsuspecting cage operator.


Just looking at those things starts to give me the shivers when I think about having one ding my pretty Vespa. There aren’t many of these trees around though so I don’t have much to worry about.

The rest of the ride was relaxed. This evening the temperature will drop to the mid 30’s with a chance of snow showers during the night. I’m riding the Vespa to work tomorrow regardless. I’m getting a bit antsy not having ridden much of late. This weekend I have to get out and go. Who cares if the temperature will approach the freezing mark…

Watch For Ice

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The sign stood out like a warning beacon as the Vespa and I crawled to work by roads largely free of traffic. A quick check of the online weather forecast promised, suggested, guessed, predicted there would be no snow, a short period of light rain, and air temperatures approaching 40 degrees under cloudy skies. Snowflakes danced through the air as I pulled out of the driveway. I had already tested the road surface to confirm adequate traction. The ambient air temperature gauge on the GTS displayed a chilly 35 degrees.

The first snow of the year, even this snow for effect, causes me to shift mental gears. Something happens. I have trouble explaining to riders and non-riders why I ride in cold weather. Last night Kim and I were watching Seven Years in Tibet and Austrian mountain climber Heinrich Harrer came as close to describing my feelings about riding as I have come across as he describes to the young Dalai Lama what he loves about climbing mountains:

“The absolute simplicity. That’s what I love. When you’re climbing your mind is clear… freed of all confusions. You have focus. And suddenly the light becomes sharper, sounds are richer, and you are filled with the deep, powerful presence of life.”

It is like that for me riding the Vespa.

When the potential for slick roads increases I make a number of riding adjustments. The first is occasional stops to assess available traction. I want something other than the tires telling me they are breaking loose.

I also decrease speed. Depending on where I am and what the weather is like it can be pretty dramatic. Other times it means slowing to the speed limit, which this morning meant I had instant company on my back wheel. I’ll pull over or just keep moving along but I usually can’t be coaxed to go faster. The creative driver though can influence me to go much slower though.

Finally, I choose different routes. Usually choices are made in order to have less traffic and always mean longer distances and slower speeds. But they are safer in bad weather. I’m fortunate to have good alternative routes.

Last night Kim and I were watching Seven Years in Tibet and Austrian mountain climber Heinrich Harrer came as close to describing my feelings about riding as I have come across as he describes to the young Dalai Lama what he loves about climbing mountains:

“The absolute simplicity. That’s what I love. When you’re climbing your mind is clear… freed of all confusions. You have focus. And suddenly the light becomes sharper, sounds are richer, and you are filled with the deep, powerful presence of life.”

It is like that for me riding the Vespa.



This morning brought me across several farm fields via mud or gravel lanes. No one pressures you here though you do have to keep your eyes open for those infernal single strand wires stretched across lanes between fences.



You can’t get too worked up though since these aren’t public roads. Travel at your own risk and such. Slow and steady are the watchwords.



By lunch time the snow was falling harder but still not sticking to the ground. Air temperature remained at 35 degrees but I started to wonder about the possibility of a sudden decline and snow on the road for the ride home. Add to that the shorter days and less light and winter commuting can be a challenge. And it’s not even winter yet.

Same technique on the way home plus the added frustration of visor fogging made worse by bright headlights. At times visibility evaporated and speed declined accordingly. The routes I ride allow for drastic changes in speed. Riding in this kind of weather in heavy traffic would be a nightmare and I would work hard to avoid it.



Stopped on the way home for milk before the last dash for home. Dark and raining I wandered off the main roads through neighborhoods and along secondary streets. The roads remained wet but not slippery.

Thinking about what’s to come I wish I would have purchased those Kenda K761 tires that Gary Charpentier so adamantly endorsed. And a pair of Gerbing electric gloves would just be nice. I suppose I could take the bus. The truck stands ready but I filled it up last night to the tune of $53. That’s just depressing.

For now I’ll keep riding the GTS.

Pumpkin Riding

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Traveling on a narrow gravel road southwest of town brings me past a pumpkin patch. This one definitely won’t be visited by Charlie Brown’s Great Pumpkin. Only the dregs remain – all the good pumpkins are loaded on a wagon just down the road. As a kid I loved this time of year best, at least until Christmas rolled around.

Riding is superb in late fall. The temperature drops far enough where I am not reminded every time I stop of the protective gear I’m wearing. And the light often is muted by a fall haze and slightly overcast skies making things easy on the eyes not to mention the emerging natural palette of reds, yellows, and oranges. No matter how great I think this time of year is for riding I know it’s not a universally held belief. This evening I listened to another rider planning battery tenders, fuel stabilizer, and the exact placement of his motorcycle in the garage. Any suggestion on my part of continuing to ride was met with the same incredulous look that accompanies a suggestion to keep the community pool past Labor Day. It’s just not done.

If owning a scooter or motorcycle means certain rules, customs, and standards are expected to be followed someone failed to send me the paperwork. I ride farther into the season because it makes sense. And over time the whole year has become riding season.

The coming weeks will bring dramatic changes to the landscape. The kind of changes that are interesting to see on two wheels. There’s nothing wrong with winterizing now if that makes sense but I have to wonder if some kind of mass hypnosis has taken hold of the riding community when it comes to this particular decision. Surrender to the weather seems to happen too easily.

Whatever a rider decides is right for them is all that matters. What works for me may be a terrible choice for someone else. The important thing is to make a choice yourself based on your own situation. This is one of those situations where tradition and custom fails.

Choices and decisions. That’s what Pumpkin Riding is all about.

Back in the Sticks

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The ride to work this morning after my trip to South Carolina was in the fog. It triggered thoughts about safety and vulnerable situations. Fresh memories of traffic on Interstate 95 and 81 had me questioning the judgment of my fellows on the highway. But it was a beautiful morning and those thoughts can wait for another time.

My daughter commented on my ability to see past the noise and find the empty places. On Myrtle Beach I watched her look for shells and made a picture not unlike some of those that appear on Scooter in the Sticks—spare, empty, alone. But you never know what is just out of the frame. Or behind me. She had a good chuckle when looking at the pictures I took.

I’ve gotten pretty good at overlooking or ignoring some things in the landscape.