Thick, gray clouds and 62-degree air welcomed me to the road on Saturday morning. With a light rain jacket stowed beneath the seat and three cameras in the rear bag I left the house thinking about photographs. It didn’t take long until I was thinking about being alone.

My head fills with chatter by the end of the workweek often leading to a muddy view of things. Riding alone is one of the reliable methods of draining it away and leaving me with a clean perspective. I saw a picture recently on Jack Riepe’s Twisted Throttle blog of an Etch-A-Sketch that he suggested was a GPS unit belonging to a friend. When I saw it and remembered how elegantly those little devices could be made clean again with just a few shakes I realized a solitary ride through the countryside works the same magic for me. I’m grateful I don’t require anything more drastic.

Central Pennsylvania is blessed with secondary secondary roads. Roads that in the height of use have little traffic and allow for leisurely rides and extra attention on the landscape. Seeing the yellow lines disappear in the distance always gives me a little rush even though I know what’s out there.

The steel bridge is gated and locked and leads into land owned by the Pennsylvania Bureau of Corrections. Rockview State Penitentiary in this case. A deal is underway to transfer ownership of a huge tract of land to Penn State and the local community. Someday I hope to see this bridge open so I can explore what lies beyond.

By the time I was moving through Fisherman’s Paradise and heading towards Bellefonte I was in the flow with a clear head and thinking about breakfast. Aside from a few ducks and the occasional trout fisherman I had the place largely to myself.

I stopped at Cool Beans in Bellefonte for a bite to eat and the chance to make a few notes. While there I had the chance to eavesdrop on a man and woman, both around 40, who appeared to be meeting for the first time after some sort of Internet dating connection. I found myself wishing my hearing was sharper as I picked up fragments of their conversation. It was all about marketing and positioning as they closed a deal to meet again.

Draining the last of my double Bergamot tea it was time to head into town to buy some film and developer. I did manage to expose a roll of film in the Mamiya 7 with the panorama adapter inside and may find time to get into the darkroom again.

Another ride alone on the Vespa worked its magic.

There is so much focus in the motorcycle world on long rides covering hundreds or thousands of miles, rallies drawing riders from across the country or adventures crossing continents that the small, ordinary moments on the road are overlooked or dismissed as meaningless. For many, their motorcycles or scooters don’t exist as part of their day-to-day life. For the past week and a half I have been without my Vespa as the dealer works to solve a rear brake issue. I miss riding, the road unwinding my head and revealing its secrets. I just need to listen. I stopped to make this picture just a few minutes before leaving the GTS at the shop. Traffic rushed past while I looked at the sky, watched the weather move across the valley and thought about how much I miss in the truck.

Earlier in the morning I was at the library returning books. Another mundane task transformed into a minor adventure solely because I am flying on two wheels. I shake my head in continued amazement at what I find in the most ordinary rides.

Tomorrow morning I should be able to retrieve the Vespa and perhaps find time to ride a bit over the weekend. Right now a low, thin strip of fog hugs the landscape while stars shine brightly overhead. I can feel the draw of the road as the midnight hour approaches. Perhaps it’s a good thing I don’t have the scooter tonight.