A groan of displeasure in response to the 8F displayed on my iPhone woke poor Junior.  That was a month ago but the memory is fresh.  Not because of any notable event during the ride to work.  It’s memorable because of the frustration and anger that can be generated in the preparation for riding in cold weather and how that can affect the ride itself.

The first cue that something was wrong appeared as I was pulling on my Tourmaster Overpants and I realized I had forgotten to put long underwear on.  At 8F you need them.  So a trip back upstairs, take off my boots and pants, pull on the polypropylene underwear, pants back on, socks, boots, and trudge downstairs.

When it’s really cold I use more layers.  On goes the sweater, then windbreaker, then jacket liner, and finally my First Gear Kilimanjaro IV riding jacket.  It’s a tight fit in the arms due to the thickness of all the layers.  Wrestling, squirming, pushing the jacket on I then have to struggle to get the armor back into place and then zip and button up the jacket.  After pulling on the ski mask I pick the helmet up off the radiator where I’ve been toasting it and put it on, then reach for my electric gloves toasting as well.

And then I utter a frustrated single word.  I forgot to put the wires inside the jacket.  Grumbling and reciting some well worn mantras I finally get the wires in place, gloves on and push the scooter out into the driveway.  Almost ready to leave I realize I don’t have my wallet, iPhone or keys which I took out of my pockets on the first pants change.

The toasty gloves and helmet are cold now.  I’ve not plugged in the gloves yet.  And I’ll realize shortly they aren’t working anyway.  And I realize I don’t have my camera.  I don’t ever ride without a camera.

So there the Vespa sits, in front of the house, nearly 20 minutes to get from the house to this position.  My head’s in an angry spin — it’s full of briars.

In a hurry to get to work I didn’t think to have breakfast or pack a lunch and was happy to stop at Subway to get both and warm my now frozen hands.  Stepping inside from 8F to 75F and high humidity meant — you know — instantly fogged and dripping glasses and helmet.

Then quiet, under-the-breath muttering and questioning the universe asking if I was wrong thinking riding was supposed to be fun.

Still managed to get to work early with one last look back at the scooter before heading to my office.  Or so I thought.  Once inside I realize my shoulder back is still in the topcase.  Back I go only to realize at the Vespa that the key is still in my riding pants — back in my office.

At this point my frustration is mixing with thoughts about a story I have to edit and a proposal I’m working on.  It’s just a damn ugly mental state, that head full of briars.

Eventually everything is as it should be but I realized not every trip is a magical mystery tour.  Some rides leave something to be desired. And often the challenge or frustration is worth pushing through.

Maybe that’s a good thing.

Frost on the car is a sign to be careful riding to work.  Clear blue skies can give a false sense of security when the temperature dips below freezing.  This morning it was 28F — cold and presenting the chance of encountering slippery spots.  With enough salt residue remaining the only real concern is in places where water migrates across the road from springs, car washing or other sources.

The ride was uneventful and the temperature rose quickly.  Bright sun beating down on me and the road was a nice thing.

A frosty morning is far more tolerable than an icy morning.

Looks like a nice morning but it’s cold.  Vespa instrument cluster blinking 31F at me.  Mix choosing the wrong winter riding gloves with a false estimate of the temperature (Weather.com iPhone app still set to Baltimore) and you have numb hands.

I should have gone back home to get a different pair but instead muttered the time honored expression, “I’ll be fine.”

And things would have been fine if I’d not stopped to take pictures.  A few minutes of bare flesh on a cold camera is enough to cause problems for me.  By the second stop I had to warm my hands on the headlight before continuing. Two more warming events would unfold before getting to Saint’s Cafe in State College, Pennsylvania.

A pleasant surprise to see another scooter parked across from Schlow Library, an unusual sighting for this kind of weather.  And it was nice to find the trip into town did not involve any ice or slippery stuff.  You always have to be on the lookout for the exceptions.

There was a downside for my fellow scooter traveler — there is no overnight parking on the street in State College and I guess that includes the motorcycle spaces.  Looks as if the parking people came by three times to say “Get out”.  Each of those pretty yellow envelopes costs $25 I hear.  That’s six months of gas money for a scooter.

Arriving early allowed for a few quiet moments to take nourishment, read a bit about Joe Paterno, and jot down some notes for this post.  Sunday morning has developed into a ritual.

Gordon arrived a little later with prints of pictures his dog Laika shot.  That thing hanging from his shirt is a camera that attaches to a dog’s collar.  Once activated it will take a picture every minute and can store up to 40 shots.  Very strange to imagine life from a dog’s point of view.

Paul arrived halfway through the morning with his new Fuji X100 camera in tow.  It looks a bit like a Leica but that’s where the comparison ends.  It’s all digital after that.  Nice camera though but not the kind of thing I would want to haul around on the Vespa.  It’s fixed wide-angle lens won’t allow for the creation of the heroic Vespa pictures I imagine.  Need that telephoto lens…

Leaving the cafe near noon saw the temperature rise five degrees and with no stopping for pictures on the way home the numb hands were history.

Moral of the story:  When riding in cold, make sure you have the right gloves.