My scooter riding daughter got her first taste of fog this morning (I think) as we headed south to breakfast. I offered a few tips, watch traffic approaching from behind, clear your visor, and pay attention to everything, but I think she already deduced the risk.
No matter how often I look out across fog shrouded fields there’s a preternatural feeling that creeps into my bones, as if I’m a character in Game of Thrones and a direwolf will emerge from the mist.
I wish I could hold onto those flights of imagination. Maybe I should write a book.
Traffic was light to non-existent, at least until we got to the major east-west artery US Route 22 at Waterstreet. Our scooters, Aleta on her Yamaha Vino and me on the Vespa, wandered along slowly, ready for whatever might emerge.
Deer remain my single biggest concern since the only way to effectively manage that risk is to ride slow enough that if you see one you can evade and if you collide the impact is not catastrophic. Each mile I travel not seeing a deer is one mile closer to seeing one. Or at least that’s how my brain thinks about it.
The same logic applies to lottery tickets — each loser is one closer to a winner. Bullshit with lottery tickets and with deer.
A quick portrait during an early stop. Rider, gear, scooters, fog and a gravel road. What more do you need for a good picture?
The Vino’s 125cc engine is fine for most secondary roads but works hard to maintain 55mph so I try to find alternative routes to destinations. The old Huntingdon, Cambria and Indiana turnpike route still exists though little used now compared to the late 1800s. Another of the fine scenic byways in south central Pennsylvania.
The old turnpike route took us past Pulpit Rocks, a notable geologic feature and now a National Historic Landmark. I had never been through here before and plan to return to explore the rocks with a camera.
By the time we got to the Standing Stone Coffee Company in Huntingdon, Pennsylvania is was ready for something substantial for breakfast. This cafe is a gem in this neck of the woods and the Standing Stone Florentine breakfast sandwich was outstanding.
Everything tastes better after a long ride.
Everyone notices something different on a ride or in life. I saw two motorcycles parked across the street. Aleta noticed free WI-FI. As things wrapped up we had a discussion on the next leg of the ride. She wanted to ride onto Altoona to visit her grandparents but I needed to head home. Riding to Altoona would mean Aleta would have nearly 90 miles of riding ahead — alone on unfamiliar roads.
Ten miles down the road we stopped at a flea market, the last stop before I turned northward toward home with Aleta joining me. Both of us were feeling the pressure of the clock as the day wore on.
The last 30 miles were under a bright sun and blue skies with temperatures rising toward the mid-80s. Summer is fading in the rear view mirror and my preferred riding season is approaching. Passed my oldest daughter on the way into Boalsburg as she was running up the road but my attention was on a passing truck and a line of parked cars. Found out later that she was on her first run since giving birth to granddaughter Emma.
Maybe someday Hannah will give up the running shoes for a Vespa.
