Scooter in the Sticks

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

Dreams and Other Realities

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Vespa GTS scooter in the woods at sunsetThe End of Things

I’ve been blessed with a cinematic form of daydreaming — sequences of images and narration that move seamlessly through time and space to tell a story. I don’t know whether this a common trait among people. It’s provided entertainment and distraction throughout this life. Riding at times provides a stage for a mini-series of adventures both real and imagined. Looking at the Vespa parked in the trees as the sun went down opened the door to a variety of mental adventures.

Recently many readers provided feedback, insight and suggestions in response to an online survey inquiring about possible products and directions that could appear on Scooter in the Sticks. The results will help discern wishful daydreaming from paths worth exploring. For those of you who responded — thank you. You’ve confirmed, rejected and illuminated the palette of vague ideas presented. The data collected will be useful in the decision making process.Continue Reading

Coming Back Into View

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forsythia blossoms in shady gardenEmerging from the Flu

After eight days of the flu the world is coming back into view.  A walk in the garden this evening with the dogs, noticing the forsythia blossoms in the shady deer den — a private place where Kim and I can sit with journals and tea.  Until today I could only slog through the space solely in duty to canine companions.  Still coughing and feeling a lack of energy it’s heartening to notice there are beautiful things in the world.

Triumph Street Twin motorcycle

Photo Courtesy of Triumph Motorcycles

Triumph Dreams

Forced to bed, drifting between delirium and reality, I spent some time thinking about motorcycles — the Triumph Street Twin specifically and how it might fit into my Vespa riding world.  In an email exchange with moto-journalist Frank Melling he shared an illuminating comment:

 You can ride a Street Twin coast to coast, and risk your license all the way, and the bike would eat up the miles. Equally, it is as a docile as your Vespa and will amble around in third gear at 30mph without a complaint.

I’m pictured those words for days and wonder what the future holds…

Belgian Sheepdog in pine needlesImploring Action

Junior showed remarkable patience with my lack of attention during the past week. He’s also attuned to my recovery and senses a change which can only mean more action and activity.  Good for him.  Good for me.

Assortment of wrenches and toolsWrenching Coming in to View

It’s time.  In the short term I need to repaint the muffler, change the engine and hub oil and filters, new sparkplug, and check the other fluid levels.  And a couple months out I’ll need two new tires, belt and roller change, steering adjustment and a flush of the coolant.  Not sure at the moment what I’ll do and what I’ll leave to the professionals.

Belgian Sheepdog puppyTapping Into Young Energy

With just 14 months under her paws, Lily the Hammer is bristling with energy and a cheerleader striving to keep me moving.  That youthful energy is contagious sometimes — for me and her Uncle Junior.  She doesn’t want anyone slowing down.

Things are coming back into view — we’ll see what a new day brings…

Dreams and the Tyranny of Adults

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Steve Williams thinking about dreams and the tyranny of adultsCafe Thinking

This morning I picked up a new battery for my daughter’s Yamaha Vino scooter. Traveling mechanic — it’s what dads do. Waiting for the battery to arrive allowed for a leisurely stroll around the collected Yamaha, Suzuki and Honda machines and imagine a road life with them:

  • A tedium of smooth roads and highways passing by faster than a brain can process with the Goldwing.
  • Backaches and hip cramps with the sportbikes.
  • The stink of chrome polish with the cruisers.
  • Mending bones and physical therapy with the dirtbikes.

Honda RuckusHonda Ruckus

And then, glistening like a perfect, wet sand dollar on a remote beach stood the Honda Ruckus. Shiny and black with a simple splash of red, the Ruckus promises uncommon experience to anyone courageous enough to abandon their ego and fear of how they’ll look to other riders.

In my dreams I have a Honda Ruckus. It’s on my list. There are rides in my head.

Dreams are a powerful part of being human yet I hear little from others about their dreams. Lost are the open and excited conversations from childhood where we would proudly exclaim, “I’m going to be a cowboy!” or “I’m going to be a baseball player!”. Somewhere the confidence to express dreams has been smothered by adulthood. Perhaps it lies beneath Henry David Thoreau’s thought that “Men lead lives of quiet desperation”. Perhaps our dreams have been squelched by expectation, fear and the need to conform.

Like any thought entering consciousness they can’t be controlled and should not create anxiety or guilt. They are after all just thoughts. So it is with dreams — just more organized and powerful stories our minds concoct to imagine our experience in life — possible or not. I’ve imagined lives as musician and athlete, artist and writer, rich man and poor. And I’ve imagined life with a motorcycle. Many motorcycles. But there is one that stands out at the moment. A BMW K75.

1992 BMW K75 motorcycleDream Bike — 1992 BMW K75

There is a page saved in Evernote that contains a listing for this motorcycle offered by MAX BMW Motorcycles in Connecticut. I have a dream that one day there will be one in the garage alongside the Ruckus and the Vespa — a riding option for a need I do not know or understand.

Rationalizing dreams leads to the death of youth and the enslavement of adulthood. Or so I think at this precise moment as fingers tap on keys. In ten minutes the thought would be lost lest I write it down. If someone wonders “Why blog?”, perhaps an acceptable answer is to try and remember dreams.

Dreams are medicine and hope rolled together but they’re not universal. My dreams are not yours and sharing them is an act of faith because there are many adults in our midst that strive to bring a dreamer back to reality. I do it myself though I try hard to accept the dreams of others. If I can’t, at least I can try to keep my mouth closed. There is a time for critique and discussion. Just not when dreams are on the table. Husbands and wives, friends and relatives, parents and children — take heed and respect the dreams.

I wonder how life would have been different if I joined the circus…