Scooter in the Sticks

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

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.

The Toll of Winter Riding

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Have been meaning to share this picture of my dead centerstand.  It represents the harsh reality of riding in winter salt and slush.  The wintry mix must have accumulated inside the tube and slowly corroded and weakened the metal until the torque present when I put the machine on the stand eventually snapped the stand in half.

Just something to keep in mind if you are going to ride in wet winter weather.  You can’t keep a machine pristine.  Chrome, paint and other details of beauty quickly fade.  If you spend a lot of time rubbing your scooter or motorcycle with a soft cloth diaper don’t ride in the winter.

My two cents.

Too Cold to Ride, Too Old Not to Ride

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Coldest morning yet — 23F.  Frost and ice.  Perfect for riding to work.  And not.  The walk with Junior in the early morning sun felt great with only a hint of icy sharpness creeping into my hands and feet. Sunshine can generate a lot of denial in addition to warmth.

When I look in the mirror I still see a young man.  Decisions are driven by appraisals of ability and stamina that vanished a long time ago.  I become aware of who I am after three flights of stairs, or carrying a few 80 pound bags of concrete.  It’s that man who is approaching his sixth decade who finds it more difficult to pull on the gear and ride off in the cold.

The Vespa did leave the garage this morning and despite some initial doubt I was glad I rode off into the glow of falling maple leaves.  By this time the thermometer climbed to a comfortable 30F.

Concerns about the cold faded into searches for patches of ice and other frozen things like coffee, soda and various waste tossed from vehicles.

In the short time it took to make a photo of the scooter the leaves had begun to pile up.  In another week the landscape will almost look like winter.  Time is flying…

The nearby free motorcycle parking was full which surprised me on a cold day.  So I opted for a fine space along Allen Street with time on the meter.

I’m in town for lunch with Hannah.  She tells me about the Inaugural Pittsburgh EQT 10-miler she and her husband competed in. He finished in 1:04:33 (6:27 min/mile pace) – 78th overall out of just short of 4,000 runners and 7th in his division. She finished in 1:46:05 (10:36 min/mile pace) – which for her (she says) is pretty fantastic.  My feet burn and tingle as she talks about it.  My running days are over.

But it seems I can still ride in the cold.  For now.

Winter Riding Miscalculation

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Fourteen degrees and windy this morning when Junior and I made our way up the street to play ball.  It was one of those mornings when even a dog pauses to consider the weather. I carefully inspected the street surface trying to differentiate how much loose dry snow on top of bare pavement was blowing around versus more tricky ice and adhering snow.

While Junior periodically chased the ball and then hunkered down in the snow I collected pertinent data and made a few riding calculations.

1.  It’s cold.

2.  It’s really cold.

3.  It’s damn cold.

4.  The road is bad.

After careful consideration of all the facts I decided to drive the minivan into town for my 3 Prints Project meeting.

Or, 1+2+3+4=Honda Minivan.

As soon as I got on the main road I realized I had made a miscalculation. The roads weren’t bad.  Almost dry in fact.  Though it still was cold.  I was glad I miscalculated.

When I looked at this picture I thought Gordon appeared to be hesitant to face the music inside Saint’s Cafe.  He showed up with digital prints.  I showed up with no prints.  I can’t be sure if I even want to make anymore prints.  We’ve been discussing a show but it all just makes me tired.  And I still have to fix the mixing valve in the darkroom.

Another Sunday morning sans riding.  I’m hoping for warmer weather.  I’ve grown weary of the winter struggle.  At least for today.

Pushing Asphalt, Pushing Steel

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A morning ride several weeks ago — pushing, pushing through air, through space, pushing, gritting, standing, riding through the chill air, spine straight, neck extended, seeking, reaching, grasping for the day.  Now, then, tomorrow.  The Vespa pushes the asphalt, slicing through space towards a destination.

At 65mph at 35F the air feels cold.  The Vespa provides little protection without a windshield or hand guards.  With heated gloves at home I am having the naked riding experience.  Armored against the cold as best I can it’s always waiting, restlessly searching for an opening to make me uncomfortable.

Below an overpass on Interstate 99, boots scratching at frozen gravel, eyes scanning the lines of steel and concrete overhead, making a picture and postponing for a few moments having blood drained from my arm.  That’s my first destination — blood tests at the hospital.

Face raised towards the sun I stood for a long moment on a gravel lane leading from Mount Nittany Medical Center towards Beaver Stadium. An elastic bandage on my squeezed my left arm, holding in place a small square of gauze protecting a hole where a phlebotomist pushed a fine steel needle into a vein.  Thick, dark red liquid filled one glass vial then another as I provided evidence for my doctor to manage my psoriatic arthritis, monitor the chemicals in my body used to counter an aggressive immune system that’s declared war on the body it’s supposed to protect.

I feel like I’m in the middle.

People gather at the statue of Joe Paterno leaving cards and flowers and other tokens of recognition. His legacy is still unfolding, his grand experiment unique and probably never to be repeated.

Anywhere.

Another stop at the library bearing the Paterno name.  Not sure if any other large university had a coach who built a library.  After picking up a book more errands lay ahead.  The Vespa has proven itself over and over as a near perfect vehicle for my eclectic journeys.

Steam rises in small, turbulent swirls as I stare at the Starbucks on the table.  Watching, looking, remembering lazy summer days laying on a grassy field as white, cotton candy clouds passed overhead.  Alone with a cup of tea, a few moments to pause and think and just enjoy the moment.

Towards home, detoured once, twice, three times to extend the ride, expand the sights, and drink in the world.  Even the short trips like these, filled with duty and task, can be exquisite.  Fun.  Free.

For me at least.

One last stop at the Boalsburg Chocolate Company for a few confections to enjoy later with another cup of tea and then across the street to Bella di Vita, a small shop selling soap and other conveyances of fragrances. There’s always something there that Kim will love — this time a new Eau de toilette by Cote Bastides.
Seems an appropriate way to end a ride on an Italian Vespa.  I guess I won’t ever graduate to a Harley…