Scooter in the Sticks

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

Crappy Weather; No Piston & Pints

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After a day of non-stop meetings I was looking forward to meeting with the Piston & Pints group only to have the dream dashed by crappy weather.  Instead of 30 or 40 motorcycles I was greeted by a closed door.  Crappy weather; no such thing for Vespa riders…

The event moved to tomorrow evening, 5pm, as long as the weather isn’t crappy.  So if you’re within riding distance think about a ride to Boalsburg, Pennsylvania to join the rider festivities.

Ken Hull developed another great poster for the group.  I have one at home.  I want it in the garage with the scooter.  Kim says it’s too nice for that stinking place.

Just look for the little barn along the alley with all the motorcycles.  This is what it looks like when the weather is crappy.

Traveling on Through Life

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Standing along a winding road, the fragrance of honeysuckle and Lily of the Valley drifting through the trees, I’m uncertain whether I’d be happier walking, just leave the Vespa and make off through the woods.  Memories of a million footsteps through fields and forests flood into view, a gift of consciousness that I too often take for granted.  Alone, relaxed and for a few moments at peace with myself and the world, life passes slowly and for a moment time almost stands still.  I don’t want to miss a moment and think about something Benjamin Franklin said, “Lost time is never found again.”

Riding has a marvelous capacity to create experience through the way it hurls a rider naked through the world.  Every sense can be ignited and a push on the handlebar or a turn of the throttle can sweep you into a different place.  Departing the beaten path, a decision fueled by a passing association with the agricultural landowner led the Vespa through grassy tracks and attention to scooter wheel eating groundhog holes.

In the scooter’s dream, the road goes on forever…

The statement is homage to poet Susan Mitchell’s work, “The Road” in which she writes “In the car’s dream the road goes on forever.”  The first time I heard that line, lovingly whispered to me by my wife, I felt a shiver of excitement run through me.  Little did I know I would live it over and over again on the scooter as I travel on through life.

In the heart of central Pennsylvania the roads do seem to go on forever, a dream for anyone just needing to ride quiet.

Someone asked me recently when I was going to move up to a motorcycle.  It puzzles me what moving up means though I’ve long ago realized it’s not a conversation for polite company and instead respond with, “Oh, I don’t know….”

The Vespa GTS250ie still exceeds my expectations for performance and I long ago fell in love with the way it looks.

Rain threatened a few times during the ride, something I prefer not do deal with when I’m traversing grass ways and dirt paths.  This picture suggests an innate ability to ignore present danger and dawdle with a camera as the weather sweeps across the sky.  Luckily only a few big drops slapped across myself and the scooter.

Somewhere near the southern end of Centre County, Pennsylvania I found myself walking further and further from the scooter, savoring each footstep and breath.  My wife turned me on to Verbascum thapsus, the long stemmed plants in the picture.  Weeds to many I’ve now come to enjoy them and am happy to see a half dozen or so have volunteered to grow in our own woodland landscape.  This picture is for you Kim.  Thank you.

The scooter is small and I’m not in the picture.  That has to mean something right?

Just one more ride and I’ll find the answer…

The Big Picture

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Embracing the big picture, visually and mentally.  Looking out over the Nittany Valley, home for the past 40 plus years, it’s easy to let the mind wander, imagine, and plan.  I always think I know what the picture is.  Experience proves otherwise.


On the way to work, wet morning, early enough to stop and look.  I never plan to stop, it just happens on the way to somewhere.  The new tires are worn in and fine on the damp pavement.  For a few moments, taking in the view, it’s as if there are no cares or concerns, just breathing and living.

Chinese philosopher Lao Tzu said, ““A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving.” It’s taken years to understand what that means and even longer to become, if not a good traveler, at least a half-assed one.  I have a love-hate relationship with plans; I love making them and hate abandoning them.  Riding has helped illuminate the value of unexpected paths and detours, roads and routes outside the plan.  Still, I make plans both large and small.

A few evenings ago while wandering through the grocery store I was building plans for a quiet evening dashed by a broken waterline in the basement.  Not so many years ago this unexpected change of plans would leave a sour, bitter, angry taste in my mouth.  Remarkably I’ve found some satisfaction in embracing the unexpected.  So an evening of work with flux and solder, mop and broom, delivered an experience I would neither anticipate or choose.

In the flood in the basement reached a collection of journals, written evidence of my existence all neatly stacked, stored and soaked.  The road this evening called for methodical, careful work to retrieve these books, drying what I could, turning pages, inspecting the faded, bleeding ink.  And here and there reading of life from five, ten and twenty years earlier.  Standing in the basement I had a glimpse of the big picture that I call my life, all thanks to an abandoned plan.


A tiger was drenched in the flood, a Moon Tiger, icon of the Moon Senior High school’s Flame yearbook from 1972.  Paging through history it was hard to fathom how quickly the years have passed, and wondering what’s become of all those people.

Earlier in the evening I was surveying the valley, gazing at the big picture of Boalsburg, State College, and the Nittany Valley.  I’ve always been attracted to high places, overlooks, promontories, places to take in the world, wander, and think.


Junior and I share the experience though for decidedly different reasons.  The plan often changes during our walks, or at least my plan.  Can’t really speak to his though I have my suspicions.  I want to walk, throw the ball, and just spend some time with my thoughts.  And keep Junior out of the ponds so neither Kim or I have to endure the fragrance of wet dog.  And more times than not my plan changes when Junior decides to head off for a swim.

He’s just missing the big picture.

Taking in Spring on a Vespa

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A warm morning provided a perfect backdrop to begin roughing the pristine surface of the Vespa’s new Kenda K413 tires.  Never an aggressive rider myself I feel it prudent to go easy on cornering and braking for the first 50 to 100 miles to make sure I don’t have any unfortunate relationships with the ground.  The tire pictured above has less than one mile of wear.  Not a problem normally considering how I ride (three speeds; slow, slower, stop) but there are times when I circumstance dictates a friskier approach and broken in tires really become important.

So off I went.

Many riders would probably find my pace and routes boring.  Passing through the agricultural landscapes I couldn’t help but think how different riding styles are.  Not long ago I saw the moto-documentary “Why We Ride” and how bored I was getting with the racing sequences.  Racing, speed, and power are important and exciting to lots of riders.  And a good bit of attention was focused on the social aspects of riding (or not riding) characterized by clubs, group rides, and events both small and large.  Looking at the scenes from Daytona Beach and Sturgis I could see the attraction as a kind of carnival but the riding part was a bit more difficult to comprehend.  The film focused only briefly on another kind of riding, one I find myself more attracted to, that focused on being in the world on two wheels, alone, no schedule or destination, just moving through space and time. It doesn’t make for good cinema since most of the thrill occurs between your ears.

I’m wandering now.

So I’m riding alone, thinking about tires, taking in the spring air (an pollen) and enjoying having nowhere to go or be, stopping when I please to root through roadside debris for treasure or just appreciate the Podophyllum peltatum (May Apples for URAL riders), little biological umbrellas gracing the landscape that are sure signs of spring.

Dandelions are in full bloom and add a swath of color to the world that would make me grin save for the guilt I feel from childhood as my father conscripted me into manual destruction of thousands of these little creatures, wandering the lawn every Saturday morning with weed tool and bucket, a youthful endeavor displaced by the advent of ChemLawn and video games.

I learned something about my childhood yesterday related to my parents letting me roam the neighborhood on weekends and summer vacation.  Today their parenting style would be referred to as “free range parenting”.  I must be the mature incarnation of a free range child…

The Vespa runs flawlessly.  Hate typing that for fear it will cause some untimely failure, but it really is running great.  Smooth, quiet, powerful, just like it was when I bought it.  Parked along Spring Creek with the sun in my eyes I could almost pretend it was physically pristine as well.  Alas, it does show some wear and tear on the body.  Just like a well used camera or hand tool.

The road never ends but rides always do.  This one after only 50 miles of tire scrubbing but with the promise of food, family and the chance to rub a dog’s belly.  Maybe later I’ll work on those tires some more…

Slippery Scooter Tires

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Vespa is back on the road.  Muffler resurrected, winter tires in storage, battery rejuvenated, and a brand new pair of Kenda tires mounted for warm weather.  As all riders should know there is nothing quite as useless in terms of traction as a new pair of tires.  Combine that with wet roads and it’s just a slippery mess.  You always want to watch for slippery scooter tires.

Breaking the tires in will wait for dry pavement.  Instead just a quick trip down the street to the Pump Station to pick up a brownie.

That’s scooter riding adventure.

Scooter in the Sticks

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

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