A ritual — the Vespa sits in the driveway waiting for a turn of the key, a depression of the starter button, a push off the center stand and rolling on towards town.  Each Sunday morning, or nearly every occurrence not shrouded in snow, ice or personal sloth.

In the miles that follow a refinement of thought and purpose usually overcomes any concern related to yesterday or tomorrow.  For this time on the road I’m clear.

An emptiness permeates State College, Pennsylvania on a Sunday morning.  One reality among many, each rider or person bring their own interpretation.  By the time the Vespa rolls up Calder Alley I imagine my brain pumping serotonin into my system, blood vessels dialating causing vision and hearing to sharpen.  I see everything, miss nothing as if I’m reaping the benefits of some deep meditation.

The Sunday morning Vespa ride.

The world is reduced to a few simple elements of experience and the weight of concern and experience melt as if by magic.  In a few miles.  I’ve learned to get to this place quickly, feel the release, sense the smile spread out from within until I’m sure I’m glowing.

And all before that cup of tea.  How fortunate to find such a practice.

Riding.

The teazle have bloomed and their bare seed heads remain, a sure sign that the best part of summer is in the rear view mirror.  They trigger a melancholy akin to those Sunday nights as a kid when the closing credits of Bonanza rolled and I knew the weekend was over.  Not sure why I feel that way about summer since the crisp air of fall and winter are my preferred riding climate.

Last week I rode north under gray skies to nowhere in particular, just needed the soul soothing effect that riding can deliver.

Didn’t take long before lightly traveled pavement turned into empty gravel as I ascended Beech Creek Mountain Road onto the Allegheny Plateau and Sproul State Forest.  The Kenda tires I have on the Vespa are fine on the highway but leave much to be desired on dirt and gravel.  Making mental and physical adjustments to the new road surface is a form of riding meditation as I watched my speed increase and ability to manage sudden changes in road composition.

Stopping to make a picture, pulling the foam plugs from my ears, I recognize the trilling symphony of late summer as thousands of cicadas perform — more reminders of time sweeping past intensified by a sense of existential emptiness.

Or so I convince myself.

Choices.

Small roads become dirt tracks.  There always seems to be an alternative route especially when you’re not really concerned with where you end up.  The biggest risk is traveling miles only to find a gate closed.  A problem in a cage.  Not so much with a scooter unless you’re unlucky enough to run into one of the rare rangers who have to patrol hundreds of square miles of forest.

I stop sometimes for the oddest reasons.  Here because I’m convinced I’ll find a rattlesnake in the ferns.  And to eat a few crackers and drink some water.

I saw no snakes.

It started to rain at this stop, the sky dark and thick with moisture and with the temperature hovering around 70F I didn’t relish the idea of riding wet.  Fears were unfounded though and there were never more than a few light showers lasting only minutes.

A lot of riders passing through central Pennsylvania never get to experience the potential of the small, anonymous state roads as they cling to more familiar routes like US 6.  You can’t ride as fast on a lot of these roads and the likelihood of deer and other mammals is greater, and there are no places for food or fuel, but I believe there is a mystical experience in these places that the more adventurous rider can find.

Seventy miles from home, along the west branch of the Susquehanna River I decide it’s time to go home.  Not every ride can be a long ride but it’s often enough to get out and let the noise and chaos flow from your head and let the world rush over you.

And let those melancholy feelings about life sweeping by become a calmer, soft drift like a river in summer.

Vespa is synonymous with urban transportation.  Many consider it a little, around town machine, leaving longer and more rigorous riding to the realm of motorcycles. Distance is the domain of the touring and cruising bikes.  Gravel the territory of dirt and dual sport machines.  The Vespa can stay in the neighborhood making runs to the grocery store or work if it’s not too far away.

On Sunday morning I took a ride before breakfast, a 140 mile sprint through the Pennsylvania Wilds including 20 miles of dirt and gravel through Sproul State Forest.  The Vespa isn’t a dirt bike but even with street tires it zipped along nicely between 25 and 45 miles per hour on these roads — speed dependent on how much sightseeing I was doing.

The Vespa is just fine outside town and off on the long gravel roads.

There are times on the road, or off, that I celebrate my good luck to be able to ride.  Doesn’t matter what you ride or where you ride, these moments present themselves as opportunities to give thanks that I’m alive and walking on the earth.

Best wishes from the Sticks.  Ride well.

Tuesday evening marked the third occurrence of Pistons and Pints in Boalsburg, Pennsylvania — a “moto hang” as organizer Ken Hull describes it.  Good turnout with over 20 bikes on hand from the lowly Ducati to the amazing Vespa.  And representatives from KTM, BMW, Triumph, Suzuki, Yamaha, Harley and Honda.  And even a Buell.

If you’ve not made it mark your calendars — the first and third Tuesday of each month from 5 to 8 pm.  The event is reaching a critical mass now so the lies and fabrications about riding prowess should escalate.

Without further ado I’ll share pictures and a few comments.

Top case on a Burgman scooter.  The scooter hasn’t ridden in all these places but the rider has.

Here’s the rider — Robert — or on the Adventure Rider forum — poppawheelie.  The mexi-scooter belongs to his wife.

I seek out comfort on the couch looking out towards the machines and riders.  Pretty much everyone stayed outside to talk.  I like the idea of a couch in the garage though.  Ken had a big LCD monitor running trials video.  Sort of.

Two silver Vespa GTS scooters in one place and only outnumbered by Ducati motorcycles.  Ducati started life making scooters so I suppose it’s ok.

Designer Jonathan Ziegler arrived on his 1977 BMW 75/7; the oldest bike their save for Ken’s 80cc Yamaha Trial bike.

Mark Sapia owned the other Vespa but he seemed intrigued by the Ducatis.

The first female rider showed up with a friend (spouse, sibling, significant other) on Tuesday evening.

Lots of bikes and expertise available.

Ken took this Buell for a ride.  I thought he was going around the block.  Must be a slow bike.  Took him half an hour.  He seemed excited when he got back.

Paul Ruby on his BMW K bike.  Last picture of him I posted he was laying on the road.

The fellow in the gray shirt is a mechanic from Kissell Motorsports and he offered some interesting information about Ducati modifications earlier in the evening.  One of the benefits of getting together a bunch of riders.

See you next time.