Scooter in the Sticks

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

Patience and Perseverance

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Self-portrait of Steve Williams
Reaction to learning of yet another stumbling stone in the path of life — yet another tick borne infection requiring 21 days of antibiotics.

When It Rains It Pours

Feels like the universe is out to get me. Us. Kim and I. Osteomyelitis for her followed by six weeks of IV antibiotic infusions. A severe reaction to the medicine followed by six more weeks with another mix. So I’m on a strict schedule administering the antibiotics and then find a tick followed by “the rash.” As I down the daily dose of doxycycline I find myself reciting “patience and perseverance.”

Sometimes you just have to buck up and deal with whatever comes along.

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A Ride to the IngleBean Coffee House

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Vespa GTS scooter in winter
Vespa GTS scooter along a rural, central Pennsylvania road in winter.

Riding in Winter

It’s no secret I’ve not been riding much this winter. The snow tires are still sitting in the garage, the GripStuds I purchased are still on my desk, and the cold weather gear is hanging in a frigid garage which makes the prospect of pulling on frozen riding clothes even more unlikely.

Still, I find myself on the road propelled by the weakest rationale to do so; the sun is out, it’s above freezing, or I need something to eat. Amazing how often a ride is predicated on eating.

So off I went through the still snow covered landscapes of central Pennsylvania to lunch at the IngleBean Coffee House in Millheim, Pennsylvania.

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Too Cold to Ride

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Boalsburg street during a snow flurry
Blue sky one minute, snow the next. It’s been that kind of winter.

Winter Has Become a Bore

While there hasn’t really been much heavy snow this year I’ve probably ridden fewer miles this winter than any since I started riding a Vespa scooter. There’s no reason I couldn’t ride in the sort of weather we had a couple weeks ago reflected in the picture above, but I’m just not interested.

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A Few Words from the Wilderness

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Woman sitting on a hospital bed

“Go to the Emergency Room immediately.”

Not the sort of call you want to receive upon entering your house less than an hour after having an MRI. That’s the message my wife got in response to a search for why her back pain suddenly increased.

Funny what stands out the ER. Overhearing doctors discussing a helicopter to move her to a level one trauma center reinforced the seriousness of her situation. Eventually, a ninety minute ambulance ride with Vancomycin dripping into her arm made the move.

Five days in a hospital — IV antibiotics, biopsies, pathogen cultures, disagreeing medical teams, bad sleep and too much food changes you. Fatigue changes to exhaustion and you lose track of time. And there’s the watching, watching someone you love vulnerable to unseen demons. Bless the calm, gentle, compassionate nursing staff that seem expert at making sense of the chaos and bringing humanity to the bad dream.

Osteomyelitis. A spinal infection of bone and dura matter.

Home now and embarking on a different medical adventure. Forty days of four times daily infusions of IV antibiotics. Technology, a PICC line and a little training has me working toward my junior nursing badge. A few minutes ago I completed a midnight infusion followed by a saline flush and Heparin.

Perhaps as I get more comfortable with the schedule I can push the Vespa out for a ride. Three inches of snow covers the world right now but it can’t last. And I have material for posts going back to summer. Perhaps the current constraints will push to finish some stories.

Or not.

Just a few words to say I’m still breathing and my wife appears to be doing well.

Think Less. Work More.

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Copse of trees near Linden Hall, PA

Think Less. Work More.

I stood for awhile gazing at this copse of trees wondering what it was that I found so attractive. I’ve been here many times and have photographed it many times. After standing there for a few minutes I realized I was getting no where. And the camera hung limp in my hand, incapacitated by thought and descending into a rabbit hole where nothing good would happen. “Just take a picture and move on,” I said to myself. “You need to think less and work more.”

Think less. Work more.

My new mantra. Specifically it’s intended for the existential malaise I feel that keeps me from working with the camera. The mental critic that assures each scene I consider or print I make has already been done. And better. The critic goes on to remind me of the opportunities I’ve missed, my personal shortcomings, and the general futile game I’m playing when it comes to anything creative. Best I seek a position as a small cog in some unimportant machine.

The more sinister effect is how it can seep into every aspect of life from the huge mess I’ll make if I attempt to fix the leaking pipes in the basement to the folly of cleaning up the garage because it will just get messy again.

And that critic tells me how dangerous it is at my age to be riding a Vespa scooter and to blog anything about it is just ego run wild or screaming into the wind where no one is listening.

The only way to shut up that critic is to think less and work more.

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Scooter in the Sticks

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

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