Scooter in the Sticks

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

Oppressed by the Past

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Vespa GTS scooter on road through the woodsWandering Through the Woods on a Vespa

Not everything here is about riding. It’s a means to an end. I’m never sure what I’ll discover on the road.

A dozen personal journals found their way to the landfill. Years of thought and complaint vomited on the page. Memories suspended in ink on hundreds of pages of paper. Free now of the weight of their presence.

Riding the Vespa scooter earlier in the day after an appointment with my cardiologist; wandering in mind and body and thinking of the past.

Wondering about the future.

The cool, autumn air keeps me bright and awake as it seeps across my skin. A sure sign of sloppy preparation and attention to detail — typical of early cold season riding.

The doctor swept the past aside as we talked about the future — medication, exercise, diet and lifestyle, the magic mix that increases the odds for healthy years ahead. Only my own thoughts keep me oppressed by the past. In this case — a heart attack.

Those discarded journals had their own power to oppress just as beliefs and assumptions and physical possessions can. It’s easy to become chained and weighed down without even realizing the ponderous load being dragged along. Slowly I’m working to free myself so I can experience more fully what’s right in front of me.

Riding the scooter through the woods is an exercise in simplicity. It expects nothing from me save for the basic skills required to safely operate. In that simple act is the space to observe chains and baggage, and hear the seductive song that softly winds through them. It’s the rare ride where I return home with no education.Continue Reading

Thoughts on Autumn

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pine needle path through the woodsPine Needle Pathway

From deep inside I feel the coming of winter. That time of magnificent transition in the northeast part of America is autumn. It has a unique scent and color palette; the feel of the air on skin is prickles a ripple of events in the body that resonate with some ancient, primal programming that whispers of endings and decay. And with it, for me at least, comes a rush of melancholy swirling around all those things that I’ve lost in this short life.

Walking through the woods I can feel it. As the cycle of the season rolls on we head to the quiet death of winter.

Modern life has certainly masked those whispers making it possible to be deaf to them completely. Ample food, shelter and clothes challenge even the most bitter weather. I confess my own guilt and reliance on technology to blunt the lessons programmed by DNA for survival — triggered by the coming of autumn.Continue Reading

Am I Too Old to Ride a Motorcycle (or Scooter)?

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Too Old to Ride?

Self-portrait at night in store window reflectionPersonal Reflections

I’ve been asking myself a lot lately whether I’ve reached a point where I can’t reliably ride anymore.  Whether some future motorcycle to be named later or the Vespa GTS scooter that I’ve been riding for the past decade.

It’s a crappy conversation to have with yourself if you really enjoy riding.  My father-in-law was talking about the same conversation he’s been having about bicycles.  But he’s almost twenty years further down the road than I am.

It’s been three months waiting for my lower back to heal.  This isn’t the first time I’ve felt this way.  Only the first where things haven’t gotten better.  The lingering, gnawing pain and sudden, startling bursts of electric weakness provide ample pause when deciding to ride.  Putting on gear and boots is an adventure in itself that can leave me cringing and panting from the task.

I suppose I should be surprised at the mental conversations.

Vespa GTS on a winding road in autumn forestLong and winding road

In my dreams I’m riding well into my eighties.  My granddaughter has her own motorcycle and lectures me on some aspect of life as she comes into her own.  Two weeks ago I was riding through the local forests to enjoy the sights and fragrances of a changing autumn world.  Each stop to push the scooter onto the center stand was a breath-holding event as I was never sure if the movement involved would impinge an already irritated nerve.

There are a few things I consider when thinking about the big riding stop sign:

  1.  Am I strong enough to manage the weight involved?
  2. Is my mind clear?
  3. Are my reactions reliable?
  4. Am I afraid to be on the road?
  5. Can I see?

Five simple questions.  And so far, with only momentary and somewhat predictable situations, only the first question is relevant.  All the rest receive a positive response.

Vespa GTS scooter on gravel forest roadRough roads

I love riding through the near endless forest roads here in central Pennsylvania.  While the Vespa scooter may not be the first choice for this terrain it’s capable enough for any rider not bent on break-neck speeds and tricks.  My own recent wandering in Rothrock State Forest to absorb the flaming foliage has been satisfying if not at times jarring along rough stretches of road.

Autumn skyAutumn sky

The light is different this time of year.  The sun remains lower in the sky and I swear it paints far better cloud drawings than any other time of the year.  I know I look up more this time of year to look, and to think.  Like whether I’m too old to ride.

Perhaps the past week was just a bad stretch of body encounters on top of some bouncing riding that caused me to grit my teeth.  Another chiropractor appointment that doesn’t seem to help.  A rheumatologist who doesn’t think my auto-immune arthritis has worsened but perhaps a physical therapist could help.  Add a colonoscopy to the mix and perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised I’m asking whether I’m too old to ride.

And it’s cold.  That early, cold-season riding desire crushing cold.  It was 27F this morning.

Vespa GTS scooter at sunsetVespa riding sunset

Am I too old to ride?  No.  Can I ride as I wish? No.  Are things going to change?  Don’t know.  Just a sample of the questions I have been experiencing lately as my riding has changed to accommodate my aching back.

A few days ago I hopped on the scooter to ride to a local eatery to pick up dinner and stopped along the way to drink in the sunset.  These small journeys are the norm these days.  The occasional 150 mile weekend jaunts are growing more rare as I make decisions to not stress the healing I imagine taking place in my lower back.  And those decisions work into the personal conversations I have with myself about growing older and myriad decisions including whether I’m too old to ride.

When I talk with other riders I seldom hear anything personal aside from bragging about riding accomplishments or the mechanical nuances of their motorcycle or scooter.  Conversations about personal challenges, misgivings or concerns seem off limits.  Personal story telling seems a difficult challenge.

It’s why I write.  Putting words on a page is easier than talking.  For me at least.

I’m not too old to ride.  I am currently struggling with some physical hurdles to riding but am still confident that work and focus will allow me to get over them.

It will be just above the freezing mark in the morning.  And I want to go for a ride.  The desire is still there…

Autumn Vespa Ride

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Vespa GTS scooter in autumn landscapeWaking in Autumn Aboard a Vespa Scooter

Notes from a cafe…

Steam rises from a cup of hot tea. A beam of sunlight warms cold hands and drives away demons of misgiving and doubt that appear with the changing of the season. The view of the mountain against a blue sky reveals the slow descent of changing leaves crawling down toward the valley.

All signals of the physical and spiritual tremor of autumn.

Riding changes in autumn, or perhaps it’s me who changes. The same eyes see a different road. The body shivers in air approaching the freezing mark. The spirit and mind contend over the choice between scooter and car. The pleasure of riding gives way to the need to ride to palliate the emotional uneasiness that reliably appears during autumn.

The familiar reawakening and recognition of the relentless march of life.

As a young man I could ignore and dismiss the thoughts. Further along they seemed an annoyance, a sign of weakness and fear. Riding through the years I’ve come to appreciate autumn as a revelation. An experience of the world easily concealed in noise and confusion.

On the way to work I parked the Vespa in a field to look at the muted earth tones painted in the low light of a gray morning. A physical quickening of blood flow and motion signals my reaction to riding in air near the freezing mark. There’s no recreation in this ride but rather something more; a gift of being aware of the magic of being alive on the earth regardless of what may be happening.

An autumn Vespa ride exposes the world and allows my mind to run free during moments in the saddle.

It’s a hell of a trip.

Perfect Riding Season

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Vespa GTS scooter on a foggy, fall morningFog and Vespa

Fog, my favorite, along with dropping temperatures, all part of the the perfect riding season.  Yesterday morning a meandering ride to work offered a chance to see the world looking slightly different.  Unusual.  A feat considering how many hundreds of times I’ve ridden along the same path.  Still, I’m seeing things differently.

And feeling different.

Fall quickens my senses. It heightens desire and illuminates mortality as I recognize the passing of time marked by the movement of the season and the slow run up to the sleep of winter.  All of it, the chill in the air, the shift in light and the change in color work together to make this the perfect riding season.

For me.

The Vespa has been performing flawlessly almost as if it’s woken up and screaming for a more satisfying time on the road.  We’re a perfect match, the scooter and I, and I wonder how I ever thought a motorcycle could add anything to my experience of the world.

Many have tried…

Vespa GTS scooter in fall lightChanges in Light, Changes in Me

Riding home from work, even in bright sun, feels different.  My eyes sense the change in the angle of light, the sun’s position in the sky when I leave the parking lot.

I know autumn has arrived.

I act differently than I do in the warmer days of summer.  I want to ride — feel the desire in my bones.  Even if only the for the few miles of commuting.  I take detours.  Stop and take off my helmet to let the sun heat my face.  I’m like a man who’s journeyed through a desert and finds a pool of cool water.

That soaring of spirit and the illusion of freedom, if only for an instant —  that’s why I ride.

The scooter is waiting again.  It’s a new day of the perfect riding season.