Scooter in the Sticks

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

No Beams of Sunshine Light the Stage, But the Red Light’s On

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VESPA GTS scooter along a rural road.
 

After work, chores and all things responsible, I needed to go for a ride.  Just a short one.  The sky was thick and Kim and I traded theories on whether we were seeing fog, low clouds or rain.  The National Weather Service issued a warning of lightning, high winds and hail with the admonition that people should seek shelter, and still I found myself on the road with the red light on and Crosby, Stills & Nash’s “Lady of the Island” playing in my head.  Obsessively — like my attention to the red light (actually orangish yellow) indicating the end of the fuel supply was at hand.  And like a bad tooth or mouth sore that your tongue just can’t stay away from my attention kept returning to the damn red light — not a good thing to be distracted late in the day when I really should be paying close attention to deer and the weather.

vine covered tree and barn

As the weather closed in everything takes on an odd feeling, like something out of a Stephen King novel.  What passes unnoticed in the sunshine takes on a more ominous appearance under a heavy sky.  On some level it makes a ride more exciting.

Vespa GTS scooter in a field

At the risk of being caught off the road in the rain I explored a few small dirt tracks as the sky lowered and began to sweat moisture onto the visor of my helmet.  One moment the air would be still and the next blowing hard with a promise of something more to come.

Vespa GTS scooter with an American flag

Riding through a construction dump I realized how far the Vespa is from the Kawasaki dirt bike I road as a kid.  Small tires and little suspension travel make dirt riding a physical and mental challenge.  Still, it is fun to run around in the dirt.  Standing on the hilltop with the little flag I saw the first flash in the sky.  Light but no sound so there was no way to determine distance and danger. And the fuel light was still annoyingly occupying space in my head that forced me to the local fuel dump.

Now, hours later, the rain has begun to fall steadily and thunder rumbles in the distance.  I’m glad I didn’t waste the clearer hours with the Vespa in the garage…

Cold Weather Riding: Getting Your Head Into the Game

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As the temperature continues to drop and the weather becomes a bigger concern for a rider.  A cold, wet morning on the way to work when I saw an intrepid commuter.  Riding in this situation is more than just enduring the cold, it’s wrapping your head around a new way of riding.  One focused on managing a new exposure to risks.

I just put the snow tires on the Vespa and will change the oil, check the antifreeze, and generally get the machine ready for winter in the morning.  My body is ready for another season of cold weather riding.  Now I just need to get my head in the game…

Radar, Riding and the Tasmanian Devil

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Radar.  The kind that forecasts weather instead of nabbing speeders along the freeway.  After a long day and a comment by Kim that the light “was interesting” I was watching a radar animation on my iPhone estimating my chances of dodging rain and lightning.  A few moments later I was on the Vespa chasing the fading sun.

There’s a method to this madness beyond seeing the sunset, making a few photos, or riding the Vespa.  It’s connected to the Tasmanian Devil — the one always chasing Bugs Bunny in the old Warner Brothers Looney Tunes cartoons.  To most people I appear calm, even tempered, and a few times I’ve hear”zen like” whatever that means. Inside it’s often a different picture with my thoughts, imagination, joys, sorrows, frustrations and more swirl like the cartoon devil, spinning madly with snarls and growls.

So it often is after a long day of burning mental energy the right medicine is to burn some more in sharply focused manner.  If I was built differently meditation would work but I can’t bring myself (yet) to sit still.  Riding coupled with chasing an image is perfect.  The riding forces me to stay focused to remain safe and the visual puzzle related to finding a picture flavors the experience into a creative craving.  Or so it seems as I write this now.

I was 15 minutes too slow getting on the road.  The sun was gone and the dregs of light just weren’t right.  Still, the ride served it’s purpose and the devil went to sleep.  The rain from an hour earlier pushed much of the heat away and left the world moist, thick with possibilities, but remained elusive.  The Vespa rolled over pavement and gravel searching, seeking, looking for the answer to the photographic puzzle in my head.

Never found the answer.  And that’s ok because, as has been said so many times in so many places, it’s the journey that matters.  And on this journey I was able to acquire two Hershey bars for a plan to be hatched later in the evening.

And now the devil and my dog Junior are asleep.  A few small chores will transform the day into night and my mind into a quiet stream.  A stream familiar because of a scooter and camera.

I feel like riding some more but that would just be selfish…

Riding and the Coming of Cold Weather

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Last night the long shadows paralleling US322 told me that fall is on it’s way.  That and thermometer readings dropping through the sixties, into the fifties, and this morning a bracing 42F when I rolled the Vespa out of the garage.

Cold weather excites the rider in me, fueling a desire to ride that mostly lies dormant during the heat of summer.  Cold, rain, snow, fog and other physically challenging forms of weather are my mountain — the manner in which I find satisfaction.

The coming of fall has a peculiar look and sound — a long, heavy light as if the sun isn’t quite ready to move across the equator for the autumnal equinox.  Cicadas drone more loudly until they suddenly stop.  Every living thing seems to respond to a biological imperative to brace for winter. Mount Nittany, the icon familiar to Penn State students and alumni around the world, is ready for the world to change.

Even my dog Junior seems aware of the change.  Tinkering with a new iPhone photo app – Alt Photo — I stumbled upon a blue tint that combined with his serious gaze to have me thinking that, like me, he senses the coming of cold weather.

As motorcycle and scooter riders I think we all bring our own, unique reactions to the road.  For some, the passing of Labor Day is the first step in winterization of the machine.  For others a reminder of the few weeks left until the ride becomes unbearably cold.  And for the coldblooded, foolhardy lot who swears they ride through the winter it means the start of an adventure.

To each their own.  I’ve already started organizing my winter riding gear.  The Heidenau snow tires are ready to mount.  I hate to say it but I’ve been running snow scenarios through my head.

And all because of a few long shadows along the road…

Perseverance, Weakness and the Question of Riding

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Vespa GTS scooter along wet rural road

The sound of rain falling as sleep fades and the day takes form draws pictures in my head — of mystical worlds shrouded in sheets of water and mist on some mornings, and others, like today, of toil and drudgery as I drag my mind and body through the relentless discomfort the weather presents.

Today I awoke to the latter.  Standing along the road with my little camera, happy and recognizing the fragile nature of being alive, how could I let a little rain move my mind into a state of reluctance at donning some riding gear for a handsome journey to work?

Vespa GTS scooter on farm road in the rain

The rain was fell lightly during the ride as the clouds thinned across the valley.  An hour earlier the only reasonable choice for commuting was the van and it’s steel and glass encasement isolating me from the world.

In 10 months I’ll commence my sixth decade on earth and the event gives rise to questions of age and waning strength and perseverance in the face of resistance.  I take comfort in the example set by a neighborhood bicyclist who pedals into town daily throughout the year — and he must be in his 90s.

Vespa GTS scooter on rural farm landscape in rain

So I managed another ride to work with a few detours and diversions and the inevitable whispering of “take the day off and ride…”.

Instead a last picture of a round bale in the lane and onward towards Penn State’s Beaver Stadium and the office.

It was a good day to ride.