Scooter in the Sticks

Where’s the Beef?

September 23, 2015 by Scooter in the Sticks 15 Comments

Where’s the beef?

In Boalsburg, Pennsylvania at Kelly’s Steak and Seafood. On the roof to me more precise.

It’s also where the Vespa stopped this evening on the way home from work to pick up a couple prime rib sandwiches at the bar. The same bar that 40 years ago saw a guy throw a dead groundhog on to show off a particularly large example he acquired while hunting. Back then it was the Boalsburg Steakhouse and quite a bit different than it is today. It had a unique mix of local color in the bar.

The big Hereford steer on the roof was the same but that’s about all. Kelly’s is definitely upscale in comparison and the food is much better.

And I seem to remember that instead of a Vespa scooter in the parking lot I would have been leaving behind an orange 1970 Volkswagen Beetle. I suppose everyone has places they go that the minute you arrive you feel the sweep of time. For me, this place does it and I feel the pangs of nostalgia as I face the sudden reminder of the sweep of time.

Where has it gone…

God Questions

September 20, 2015 by Scooter in the Sticks 25 Comments

This past weekend I was on the road, a winding trail through the world and my head.

Sitting in the garden writing this blog post I see a young couple walking down the road. I can see them talking, their gait is relaxed, their bodies close, and I wonder about them. Why are they together? Why are they walking past now? Why do they seem so happy? Someone once told me that these sorts of why questions are God questions — complicated, difficult and ultimately beyond our feeble human mind’s ability to adequately answer.

For the past few days I’ve been occupied by why questions, especially as they relate to riding and life.

Why am I on the road?

I’ve thought about this question many times. I know exactly where the road leads and I’ve been on it before. And yet I’ve never really been on it and have no idea what’s ahead. My riding is filled with paths and trails through field and forest — literally and figuratively.

The sun rises swiftly and for a short time there is a cosmic quality to the world — a reminder that we are members of a collection of planets spinning around a star and causing me to ask, “Why am I here?”

It’s easy to dismiss the silent conversation as the bored noise of someone with too little to really worry about. Or worse.

Paul Ruby is a master at finding odd places and things. Part of me was intrigued by this eating establishment and a larger part was grateful it was closed.

I’ve know Paul for twenty years having first met him at a large format photography workshop he was teaching. Since then he has led me through a wide range of ideas and places. He, among others, influenced my return to graduate school in art and my purchase of a Vespa. He is responsible for some of the turns in my life.

Why did our paths cross?

On a promontory with the world swept before me it’s tempting to try to contain my reaction to the visual narrative — lovely sky, pretty valley, magnificent Vespa scooter. But a persistent whisper of a thought keeps hinting I should be taking more notice.

Why can’t you see?

I climb to a higher point in the rocks to make another photograph of the view from Jacks Mountain and think of breakfast.

Paul and I have a late breakfast at the Northside Restaurant in Mount Union, Pennsylvania. It’s a quaint local establishment with predictable cuisine. We met two couples on motorcycles who were wandering much like Paul and I were and we shared a few words. When we emerged after breakfast they were preparing to leave. I almost never photograph other riders, especially strangers but this time something compelled me to ask.

Why did I make this photograph?

I never planned to love a Vespa. It just happened. When I began riding in 2005 by sights were firmly fixed on a Triumph when fate intervened in the way of a test ride on a Vespa ET4 and my fate was sealed. Since drinking the scooter Kool-Aid

I’ve piled up thousands of miles on motorcycles — eight BMWs, six Triumphs, two Ducatis, 2 Piaggio MP3s and one URAL rig. Certainly enough time and experience to decide what motorcycle I should be riding.

And still I dream the Vespa dream.

Why has the Vespa taken up residence in my life?

Other than sleeping, riding is the most relaxing thing I do. It works on the mind, the body and a restless spirit. It delivers much and costs little. I’ve wanted to ride a motorcycle since I was a kid and aside from time on other people’s machines I suffered from the “you’ll shoot your eye out” defense from mother and father.

Traveling home from breakfast along the Old Alexandria Pike I had to stop one more time at Pulpit Rocks. The place has mystery though I’m not sure why. An extended visit may provide answers somewhere in the future. Riding reveals things just when I start to believe there’s nothing left.

Why does riding resonate so loudly?

The road is endless but not my ride. I recognize it when I’m on the scooter and when I think about my path in the world.

I’ve been traveling for six decades and question how little I’ve learned or done. Decisions made but without action, or oaths taken without change. Riding strips away much of the selfishly indulged denial and doubt that can wreck dreams and leave a person face-to-face with decisions at the forks in the road.

Why am I afraid to choose?

Another ride and I find more questions than answers. Perhaps best just to let them go…

Why I Blog: Year in Pictures

September 18, 2015 by Scooter in the Sticks 16 Comments

Just found this video that my Google plus account produced — an automated construction using images that I posted to my old Blogger account that were sitting in a Picasa album. Facebook builds similar things at the end of the year. Watching I was struck by how well it depicted, in part, some of the things that took place in my life. Paging through old family photo albums that my mother fastidiously curated and maintained do the same sort of thing. But who has time to carefully mount and label images with meaningful captions anymore?

Certainly not me.

It did get me thinking about Scooter in the Sticks and the reasons why I blog.

To get rich. (Hah, fat chance, pipe dream, immersion in denial)
To sort things out that perplex or bother me. (This is absolutely true)
To practice writing. (That’s how it started. A blank page doesn’t frighten me anymore)

After looking at the video a couple times I realized there’s another reason — I want to share something of myself, leave something behind to help my family, and my infant granddaughter know something about what goes on between my ears.

I never really knew my father despite having spent a lot of time with him. We were close, he was supportive, but I never really knew what he thought about, what bothered him, concerned him. In art school I produced a series of videos about myself and I remember screening one for a class and afterwards several students — decades younger than me — told me how much they wished their fathers had made something like this. Like me, they didn’t really know their fathers.

The Year in Pictures doesn’t reveal any secrets about me. But it does reflect some of the things I’ve done. As I approach 900 posts on this blog I can’t help but believe there’s some insight about what’s important to me. I don’t have anything about my father that would fill one blog post that’s not a photograph. After he was gone there were so many questions that I wished I had asked.

So many.

And the same goes for my mother though she revealed a bit more. But much was unsaid and unlooked for. Too bad now.

Do you know your father and mother?

Living with Two Dogs

September 17, 2015 by Scooter in the Sticks 18 Comments

After a heart attack you find yourself in more doctor’s offices than normal. I look forward to the reading material, especially catching up with celebrity news in People magazine. And it’s always nice to affirm actions in medicine — a drastic change in diet, exercise medication — are working. As my doctor scoured blood test results and data from the cardiologist he pronounced me in good shape. I was fortunate — after the heart attack part of my heart was not functioning. Only time would tell if the muscle was stunned or dead. Turns out I was like the chipmunk caught by the cat and dropped — too stunned to run at first and then bingo, off I go. So it was with my heart. Muscle function is pretty much what a normal heart would be.

Moving forward it turns out living with two dogs will be helpful to my long term exercise regimen. The dogs need to walk, but I’ve determined they must be walked separately.

The scene when I left the doctor’s office.

How often do you see a Vespa scooter and old Cadillac convertible together. Never around here. My oldest daughter would probably like to buy that Caddy.

A lot of odd things showing up lately. The earth must be passing through some odd energy field. A more anxious or superstitious person would be thinking zombie apocalypse.

Or worse.

At the end of the day the light this time of year seems dazzling. Kim says it feels cinematic. I imagine myself a dashing hero. Gary Cooper. Or one of the Three Stooges. Things are changing — I can feel it in the air, smell the beginning of decomposing plants, the fragrance of fall.

Lily was with us while Junior languished at home — sad, depressed, alone. At least that’s where my mind races. In reality he probably sleeps until we return and wonders if he’s going to get a Milkbone. I’ve noticed lately an energy mix between Junior and Lily that makes them less than social. I suspect Junior’s vigilance at other dogs and people triggers a reaction from Lily that Junior feeds on creating an escalating cycle of energy between them which results in barking and commotion.

In the dog owning world the technical term for this situation is “a pain in the ass”. So I’ve started walking and exercising them alone in public to see if anything changes. And it has. Not a peep out of Junior when he sees another dog and he’s a big teddy bear with people. Same thing with Lily. So for now I’ll exercise them apart and train Lily alone before uniting them again on walks.

An unlooked for advantage of this change in plans is I get twice as much exercise. Good for the dogs, good for my heart. Maybe I’ll make it to retirement and that URAL motorcycle that Dom Chang keeps telling me I need.

Junior goes to college for his training, pausing here to watch the completely tame squirrels than are everywhere on the University Park campus of Penn State. Several came within three feet of us. He didn’t start to drool so he probably didn’t think they were dinner. During our walk across campus and through State College Junior said hello to half a dozen dog lovers, absorbed a lot of cuddles and petting, and made his way through the local bookstore that welcomes dogs.

And I chalked up another mile or so of quasi-aerobic activity.

Living with two dogs is a fine way to pass the days…

Dangerous and Beautiful Road

September 16, 2015 by Scooter in the Sticks 16 Comments

In the scooter’s dream, this is the road it rides…

How much does danger factor into the thrill of riding? When my spirit soars is it because I feel I’m flying or perhaps because subconsciously I believe I’ve left danger in the dust?

While I don’t intentionally ride in a dangerous manner I do accept that being on two-wheels inherently has more risk, more danger. It doesn’t mean bad things will happen, but they could, and chances are whatever does happen will probably be more intense that if I were strapped in the cage and surrounded by airbags.

Danger, or perhaps more specifically, risk is seductive and at the heart of a living game of chance. At least that’s what passed through my head as I watched the video of the Atlantic Road in Norway — Atlanterhavsveien in Norwegian. In the dark gloom with a pounding ocean I could sense the risk, the danger, and imagined traversing the windswept expanse and the quickened heart rate. It’s the same feeling I have when snow is falling on the road, or the temperature drops below zero — me against the elements.

Seems a screwy draw to riding a scooter or motorcycle. But it could be worse. I could be scrambling up the north face of the Eiger, or diving off a precipice in a wing suit.

I suppose each is just another dangerous and beautiful road…

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