Scooter in the Sticks

Exploring life on a Vespa Scooter and Royal Enfield Himalayan motorcycle.

Lost in Delirium

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Some rides are the product of illness — a projection of being lost in delirium.

Can a person ride motorcycles (or scooters) in their eighties?

For the past few days I’ve been swept up in a chain of illness (a cold or flu) and have lost touch with the routines and rituals that normally keep me grounded — walking the dogs, working and riding the Vespa.

I hate being sick; suppose everyone does. While drifting between sleep, delirium and mindlessly watching online videos I came across an old favorite — five aging men deciding to ride motorcycles again. I’ve posted it before.  When I close my eyes I want to ride again.

For a few moments I thought I could push through the illness but dizziness raised its hand to remind me of my current predicament.  I’m sure Kim would have added her input, “You don’t ride when you’re sick dummy.”

So I’m left again practicing patience, something I never do well with, and hoping whatever illness I have passes quickly.

If you’re feeling your age take a moment and watch the video.  It’s nice to think at 80 we might still have choices…

How Long Can I Ride?

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Steve Williams photography and printsLooking Closely

Sixty-one years old and one heart attack under my belt. It fuels some interesting thinking. Ten years ago when I was still invincible (and my riding jacket was still bright yellow) I was already drawn toward thoughts of mortality as I photographed my life, the people in it, and some of the icons of finality. I’ve always been curious about what’s over the next hill.  Seems appropriate that curiosity would endure thoughts about longevity — how long can I ride?

I’m not sure if a person reaches a certain point where they begin doing longevity math but the equations aren’t simple and the factors considered aren’t consistent.  My grandfather had a heart attack in the 1950s when he was my age and then lived healthy and at home another 33 years.  My mother died just a few years older than I am now from a rare disease. And my father from lung cancer at 76 though he was a heavy smoker most of his life, worked in a coal mine before moving on to a mill that worked with molten steel — something that generates a lot of great stuff to breathe.

Mental measuring of longevity is, at best, a fool’s errand and merely another way to rob the present with fears of the future.  Still, it occupies my thoughts from time to time.

What may be more important is the waking dreams of life down the road.

How do I see myself in ten years?

Vespa GTS scooter on a forest roadOld Man and a Vespa

It slowly comes into focus, an image of an old man on a scooter, moving smoothly along a forest road, his hands gives a slight squeeze to the hand grips and a smile grows on his face.  In the distance a granddaughter waves, wondering what treat the old man brought this time.

When I ride I can feel the flight of spirit and I squeeze the grips to hold onto the world. At 61, I hope I can stay close to that feeling for a long time and my body stays nimble enough to manage the scooter and my mind sharp enough to stay safe. And be able to hang out with my granddaughter long enough to warn her about boys and to not let anyone stand in the way of her dreams.

That would be a good ride.

Belgian Sheepdog portait in the snow at sunriseLike a Good Dog

How long can I ride? Only God knows. But like a good dog I’ll keep getting up every morning and make the most of what life has to offer.  Like Junior, who hopes he’ll get to chase some tennis balls and go for a walk, I’m going to hope I can keep riding. I’ll ride until I can’t.

That’s the view from 61.  I’ll check back in ten years and see how things are working out.

What’s your view of the road ahead?

Riding Resistance

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The intrusion of work, life, age and weather conspire to build powerful physical and cerebral riding resistance.  As the interval between rides (or blog posts) grows, the energy required to regain motion increases as well.

Or so it is with me…

Snow covered drivewayEvaluating Snow

Our new snow blower, cardiologist recommended, cuts a fine path to push the Vespa scooter out of the garage and into the world.  I did the winter riding dance, testing the road surface, evaluated the quality of snow, traffic and forecast for more of the white stuff.

Riding a scooter or motorcycle in winter, especially in snow, demands a long checklist of considerations.  On this morning I stopped at “Snow tires mounted”.  My Heidenau snow tires are sitting in the garage waiting to be called to action.

It’s been a week since I went for a ride and already I’m feeling the resistance.

Vespa GTS scooter on wet rural roadFlights of Euphoria (or not)

Last weekend I abided the damp chill of a light rain and temperatures in the upper thirties as I wandered the countryside pondering thoughts trespassing my serenity.  Some rides are flights of euphoria while others chained to the noise of existence, the scooter, like a team of draft horses, part of a forced toil dragging my grey cloud spirit along in hopes of finding clearer skies.

View of snow from Pump Station Cafe windowRide Cancelled Due to Snow

The view from the Pump Station Cafe in Boalsburg, Pennsylvania as I write this post.  Part of me wishes the Vespa was in the picture.  Most of me is happy I drove the car.  What sort of Vespa adventurer does that make me?

I don’t care.  Contentment, serenity and attendant happiness arrived when I grew comfortable with my choices and actions.  Wish it hadn’t taken so long to get here.

Eight inches of snow are on the ground with more falling.  Deciding not to ride is a good choice.  Provides an opportunity to respond to a mountain of unanswered email, write a post, rub the dog’s bellies, make pancakes, and generally frolic in the little joys of being alive.

Except for that part about email.

Vespa GTS scooter in a farm field on a rainy dayCenter of the World

I know my photographs of the scooter in the center of an empty space are metaphors for my brooding on life — especially the pathway decorated with murals of aging.  I’m not sure what’s more thrilling; riding to these places, or thinking about them later.  It’s a gift finding joy in both.

Everyone observes their path differently.  A quote from the movie based on Larry McMurtry’s book Lonesome Dove that I’ve come to recognize:

“The older the violin, the sweeter the music.”
— spoken by Augustus McCrae

Steve Williams and his Vespa GTS scooterResistance is Futile

The scooter always takes me where I want to go.  I may not know the destination or the reason I’m on the road but there always seems to be a mysterious arrival at the right place at the right time despite the rocky mental roads along the way. Riding resistance has continued to melt as the call of the road becomes louder.

For now, the snow will keep the scooter in the garage while I attend to other matters.

All is well.

 

Meet Yourself on the Road

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Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

— a passage from Dylan Thomas’s poem “Do not go gentle into that good night”.

View east across the Nittany ValleyIf you spend much time alone on the road your mind will wander into the weeds. It’s messy, you can’t see where you’re going, and things stick to you.  Despite being considered recreational vehicles, I’ve found riding scooters and motorcycles stimulate curative powers for the soul.  On a nice line through a sweeping curve, a smooth rise over the crest of a hill, or a walk through a field you’ve decided to explore and suddenly you meet yourself on the road.

New Year’s day — a cold ride with the temperature hovering at the freezing point made worse by a brisk wind that kept the ride going when you stopped never allowing the typical feeling of warmth when the air stops pounding.  Walking through the remains of volunteer weeds in a fallow field I stand face-to-face with the fears and joys of the past year and a heckling self pointing out the challenges ahead.

Sometimes I wish I were still sleeping through life.

Vespa GTS scooter on muddy roadA Vespa is not particularly well suited for wet, muddy roads — particularly with street tires which turn mud into something akin to slush covered ice.  There’s no compelling reason to be on that track.  It’s just the kind of place you end up when the rules and “should”s are left behind.  I want to believe everyone comes to understand Thomas’s poem about dying and death at some point in their life.  I only wish I embraced the meaning long ago.

I heard an interview with poet Patricia Jabbeh Wesley where she described how she survived the Liberian Civil War and used that experience to survive cancer.  In both cases she credited a strong belief that she would survive as keeping her alive.  While I don’t believe a person can will themselves to beat an illness like cancer I think there is a lesson in being aware of the desire to live, and live strongly, or as Thomas would write, “Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”

I should note right now — I’ve met people who believe people do control the outcome of their disease — diet, exercise, prayer, whatever and when they don’t survive somehow they didn’t try hard enough.  That blaming victims for not trying hard enough, of not doing all they should do with a disease, or anything else for that matter, is evil in my book.  No one can know what another suffers.  People need your love, not your criticism or judgement.

As I embrace the days ahead I want to burn and rave at the close of the day.  Good or bad, they are magic and will never come again.

Vespa GTS scooter on Allen Street in State College, PAI made my (nearly) annual pilgrimage to State College, Pennsylvania to see the First Night ice sculptures on Allen Street.  Those blocks of ice have been transformed into forms and ideas and represent the ephemeral nature of things — here today, gone tomorrow.

And there was an ulterior motive at work — a late lunch at Panera and a chance to warm up.

2016 First Night ice sculpture in State College, PAFamilies build memories one iPhone picture at a time.  And build traditions.  I’ve become a better observer since I started riding, not just on the road but of life in general.  Riding in more severe conditions has allowed me to become more courageous in almost every area of my life.  And when I feel resistance and fear I know I’ll meet myself on the road for a little chat.

Or more.

Ice sculpture in State College, PAAs 2016 arrives I’m excited to still be in the circle of the world.  There’s hope and joy ahead as well as dark times.  That’s a given.  My job is to make the most of whatever rolls my way and not turn my back and run.  And if I do, well, I’ll meet myself on the road ahead and have another chat.

Vespa GTS scooter at the end of the day on a long roadI don’t know what’s ahead.  And despite any plans I might make the days have a way of changing them.  Uncertainty is as much of living as change, death and taxes.  As I think of the new year and any resolutions I might have there’s just one that keeps bouncing through my head — to rage against the dying of the light.

I’m alive and walking (or riding) on the earth right now and want to keep meeting myself on the road — raging together.   That’s what I want in the coming year.

To each friend and reader, to anyone who happens by this way — Best wishes for a Happy New Year in 2016!