Often questioned or criticized by motorcycle riders for venturing out on the highway on what some consider less than adequate power.  After considering all the alternatives I decided on a classical Roman approach to bridge the gap — a Vespa chariot rig akin to those breathtaking scenes I remember from Ben-Hur as a kid.

This picture was made by my friend Gordon Harkins just before I picked up the reins to ride a few more miles at breakneck speed through Moshannon State Forest.

A more conventional portrait of Gordon and I along the road.  He has about 300 miles or so on his spanking new Vespa GTS 300 Super.  I’ll be posting soon on what it took for him to become a Vespa rider especially since he looks more at home on the set of Sons of Anarchy than anything I can imagine for a scooter…

An email alert from Scootin’ Old Skool, a blog by author Orin O’Neill, titled Happy Equinox got me wondering about the way I feel this time of year.  On the ride home this evening I could feel winter in the distance, the shortened days triggering some circadian rhythm imprinted in my brain from a thousand generations of really needing to get things in order before the sun favored brothers in the southern hemisphere.

The clouds over Mt. Nittany, the iconic geographic feature that separates Penns Valley from Nittany Valley and Penn State University.  Standing along the road I could feel the cool air creep into my joints, move into my lungs and trigger a biological reaction that left me feeling wary and alone.

Or so I convinced myself.  Migratory birds sense it.  So do squirrels and chipmunks and other animals scurrying to prepare for winter.  Why not me?

Riding creates an intimate relationship with the weather in the fall.  Changes in light, temperature, and wind direction require nimble and ongoing adjustments in a manner not generally needed in warm weather.  Fog is more common this time of year and soon the leaves will transform the landscape into a palette of warm color.  I wonder if the visual stimulation triggers another ancient series of chemical events in my brain leaving me with prehistoric feelings no longer requiring a survival action.

Perhaps it accounts for the unsettled feelings, a mere endocrine response to some genetic programming that kept ancestors alive when mammoths roamed here.

Fall brings big skies.  Dramatic skies.  Natural reminders of things to come.

I’ve already donned more serious riding gear and I can feel myself steel against the elements on cold mornings.  I’m ready.  A flush of life sweeps through my body as I look towards the heavens.  It’s a fine time to ride…

Anytime people gather together around a mutual interest you’re bound to learn things.  At the last Piston and Pints gathering two weeks ago I learned some things about chains, wax, cleaning and lubrication efficiency.  All things I might add that have little application to a Vespa.

Another Ducati appears though it’s owner shied at the idea of a picture with someone standing on the saddle.  I’m certain concern over the well being of the model was foremost in his mind.

Despite rain earlier in the afternoon and an ongoing threat of more there were still a respectable number of motorcycles and riders in attendance.  As the days grow shorter and the temperatures begin to did below 60 at the end of the day some discussion ensued about how long Piston and Pints will persist into the fall.

This BMW comes equipped with a natural gas furnace and bearskin rugs to allow riding far into the cold season.  All modern BMW motorcycles come with automatic outriggers for fall protection when riding in snow and ice.  They aren’t often talked about in BMW circles because the technology was lifted directly from the Honda Goldwing.

Ken Hull’s moto-hang barn is centrally located just off the Diamond in Boalsburg.  On some evenings there are a half dozen or more bikers down the street at Duffy’s Tavern, their Harleys parked out front of the colonial inn.  I keep hoping they don’t find out about Piston and Pints and feel a need to ride over and kick our asses.

I think that’s what bikers do.

Ken’s 80s vintage Honda Reflex in a sea of machinery.  I thought the Honda Reflex was a scooter.

ALERT:  Dave Dix finally made it to Piston and Pints on his BMW.  He’s nearly invisible on all other two-wheeled forms of transport.  He’s showed up on so many non-BMW machines that I figured I would see him on this night on a Segway.

John lost in thought as he considers alternative routes to climb about his tall Yamaha XT1200 Z Super Tenere Regal Deluxe.  Seems he left the ladder at home.

John brought his son along to “help the old man” onto the motorcycle.  John’s son holds the honors for youngest rider ever to attend a Piston and Pints event at age 16 (I think).  I thought I overheard Ken Hull saying that award comes with a $250 gift certificate for Aerostich and a three year supply of donuts.

He’s riding a Suzuki DRZ650 (maybe, I’m terrible with this stuff.  I wrote it down but who knows where I put the index cards).

The real learning took place late in the evening as riders piled on with their own magic recipes for keeping chains clean and lubricated.  Some even described techniques involving sable brushes and salamander oil.

It’s an eclectic bunch and Piston and Pints.

ATTENTION — SCHEDULE CHANGE: Because of heavy rain forecast for tonight the date and time  has been changed to Thursday, September 20 from 5 to 8pm.

For directions check this link to Google Maps.

A stop on the way to the grocery store to get milk.  Day fading and in a hurry —  the iPhone was the perfect tool to record the scene — launch the Instagram app, press the shutter button, done.

Looking at recent pictures has me wondering if I have the complete digital tool in my pocket. I wonder.

Often.

The morning dog walking ritual at times done half asleep.  I don’t want to drag a big camera along with me but there are moments I don’t want to forget so I use the iPhone.

Arguments of quality rattle through my brain as I point the iPhone at a subject — “Use a real camera fool, get the high res file, be professional…”

I tell myself I should use a better camera.  Give myself more pixels to work with but I don’t. And then I find myself somewhere special — the light, the forms, it’s all working and all I have is the iPhone.

The big digital SLR sits on a shelf as the Vespa rockets (poetic license) down the road and I accept a sacrifice in photographic quality using the iPhone compared to every other digital camera at my disposal. Still — the iPhone is easy, present, available — it makes pictures that otherwise would not exist.

A piece of chocolate cake at lunch with a friend; a quick photo with the camera phone before devouring everything short of licking the powdered sugar from the plate.  I think I understand my dog’s obsession with tennis balls better now. I’ve embarrassed to admit how many times I have looked at this image.  There’s something powerful at work in my head with cake.

Mental recrimination about the iPhone and what it means to be a real photographer and the programmed obsession with sharpness, resolution, resolution and megapixels. Bigger camera equals better pictures. Or so the myth goes.

Fog on the way to work as I cut across campus on a farm lane and I wanted to remind myself later how great it is to commute to work and all I have is the iPhone.

A recent discussion with a photographer friend had him outlining his quality concerns with a Canon 5D Mark III (no slouch of a camera in the DSLR realm) and his decision to move to a Pentax 645D medium format digital camera (huge files and a $10K pricetag for the body alone). He showed me 18×24 prints that seem impossibly detailed with color, tone and texture not normally discernable to the naked eye. My hand fingered the iPhone in my pocket as I tried to not drool on my shoes. Beautiful prints.

Kim in the garden — another fleeting moment that I want to backup my memory in a digital form — the light, the place, a piece of our lives without the mechanical intrusion of too much photographic gear.  I know I could use a little pocket camera but the iPhone allows me to shoot and process the final images in moments and send it on to Flickr, Twitter, Tumblr…

Early morning in State College.  Another digital snapshot using yet another filter in the Instagram collection.  I can’t remember what it’s called.

I really should buckle down and take this stuff more seriously and shoot with a real camera and methodically process the images. It echoes in my head over and over.

But I’m not that photographer. My nature and personality chafe at the tyranny of that kind of process and I’ve accepted I’ll never be comfortable in that creative landscape despite how much I admire that kind of work.

Horses wander onto the horizon on a pasture at Penn State.  Their lazy movements under a gray sky remind me of something I can’t quite put my finger on.  A fast capture on the iPhone and I can think about it later.  A digital post-it note.

Moments pass quickly in life and on the road and the fuss-free performance of the iPhone makes it possible to reach into the flow and snatch moments at will. I consider these images sketches — snapshots that reflect a creative freedom not possible when I’m enslaved by the tyranny of photographic law.

But that’s me.

A recent ride with Paul and Gordon began at my driveway.  Paul wandered up the street to watch the sunrise.  I know that feeling.  The iPhone makes it so easy to remember.

While the iPhone is not the complete tool for digital photography I’ve been impressed how valuable a tool it is for me while I’m on the road, out in the world, engaging a life.

I’ll write about the downside of the thing some other day…

Most serious riders know what Aerostich means — riding apparel for adventures beyond the fray of mere mortals.  Trips to the north and south poles, rides through minefields and other militarized landscapes.  Snow, ice, blizzards, rain storms, sand storms, locusts, fire and brimstone.

All that stuff.

And the machines associated with such gear are monstrous mechanical conveyances labeled with BMW, KTM, Yamaha, Honda and Harley to name a few.  Raw power trembling between two wheels.

Imagine my surprise at seeing a 2010 Vespa GTS 300 Super on the cover of the latest Aerostich catalog to arrive in the mail.  My eyes went to the RoadCrafter suit and I almost missed the Vespa hidden beneath the type on the cover.  But there it was — a Vespa on the cover of the Aerostich catalog.

I guess Vespa has reached the lofty heights of adventure — no longer condemned to the marketing goals of Piaggio of the stylish urban transport system.

The rider is Kristen Rosza and was photographed by Oz Lang, a San Francisco based photographer, during the recent Scooter Cannonball Run — a ride across the United States held every two years.

Maybe I need to finally order that Darien jacket I’m been thinking about…