Scooter in the Sticks

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

Breathing in Valentine’s Day

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Valentine's DayHeart, Mind and Baubles

There was a time when Valentine’s Day was a puzzle to solve and find the precise gift or surprise that reflected the depth and breadth of my love and commitment.  While not strictly measured by dollars, it often involved considerable investment of money, time, thought and energy.  Sitting here writing I can’t remember a single “thing” that resulted from said investment.  They’re lost in the collective mass of things we’ve collected in a life.

That’s not to say they weren’t appreciated, used or otherwise held value, but at the end of the day I suspect what was remembered was the effort.  The act of trying.

As I think of Valentine’s Day now it is not about shared tangible assets.  It’s more focused on the the psychic investments two people make in each other; the commitment to being there, through thick and thin, to provide reliable comfort, support and love independent of action or earning.

It’s about the durable concern for one another and holding on through the entire ride that life has prepared. Flowers are nice.  And everyone loves candy.  And a motorcycle would be a hoot.  But none of that matters if you can’t trust someone to have your back.  Or be there when you’re sick.  Or accept you when you’re miserable.

Valentine’s Day is a monument to the human potential of loving in spite of things not being as you want or expect.  When you want to say the very best — it’s not something Hallmark can help with…

My two cents…

2017 Brave, Bold Blogger Challenge

This post is part of a month long writing prompt challenge conceived by Kathy at Toadmama.com.

Little Boxes

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Steve Williams, Vespa blogger

Photo by Gordon Harkins

Confined in Wide Open Spaces

Thinking about an open concept versus rooms with walls.  The common interpretation would refer to the architectural approaches to living and working spaces. Bright, open spaces with vaulted ceilings and window walls as opposed to more conservative and confined areas that may be secreted and cut off from the rest.

The same model could be applied to the mind.  And even to some degree to riding a scooter or motorcycle.

My head inside a full face helmet; a mind inside isolated from the outside world.  Life inside little boxes. Even riding in wide open spaces I remain confined in those little boxes.

Steve Williams bloggerSmall Spaces

The narrow walkway between buildings in State College, Pennsylvania feels safe in the closeness of the walls and the protection against the sky. It’s as if you’re cut off from much of the world — a decidedly non-open concept for space.

There was a time when the open concept held my imagination and fueled dreams of adventure in the wild and open spaces of the world. Over time I’ve realized I’m predisposed to a compartmentalized existence which affords opportunities for invisibility, isolation and privacy.  But more powerful is the sense of self and focus I find in the small spaces where the yawning abyss is not drawing energy and concern.  While the open concept and space is seductive, it ultimately leaves me entirely reactive — I see and respond.  It’s visceral and fires emotions.  But ultimately I retreat to a little box where I’m free to think.

When I was younger I would have thought the rooms with walls would be a prison. Could be for me they may be the doorway to freedom.

2017 Brave, Bold Blogger Challenge

This post is part of a month long writing prompt challenge conceived by Kathy at Toadmama.com.

Hard Lesson

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Vespa GTS scooter on an icy farm laneThe Road is Rough

The lie in the mirror.  Young forever. Until circumstance interrupts the lovely delusion.  There are many events that can shake a person awake and aware that the road is rough and life changes.  A hard lesson.  One moment I’m healthy and able to embrace and endure any task, and then suddenly I’m old and wondering if I can do much at all.

The past year has provided more than a few opportunities for personal growth and acceptance as my body ceased to serve as I have demanded.  The hard lesson, as time passes things change.

I’ve not ridden the Vespa much this winter.  The cold bites harder than it once did and I can’t seem to fend off its effect.  The cold, snowy rides of the past seem almost within reach.

I’m not the man I once was.

portrait of steve williams with portrait of steve williamsYou Can’t Hide.

Delusion and denial, wonderful tools that support insane behavior and allow me to hide from the reality of a change in strength, health and endurance.  Just to name a few.  At times the loss seems relentless and everywhere.  I can avoid thinking about it, pretend nothing has changed, employ tricks and technology to surmount limits, but always I find myself back at the beginning — things have changed.

A hard lesson.

Vespa GTS scooter in the rainInto Each Life a Little Rain Must Fall.

I envy those people who enter their seventies, eighties and nineties seemingly unaffected by the march of time.  Their bodies biologically programmed to endure and perform.  One can only guess at the function of their mind and spirit.  There’s little profit for me to long to be them or covet their gifts.  The march of life just delivers surprises and cloudy days.  Sometimes it rains.

Or worse.

During the past year I’ve had to accept that my spine has degenerated and will potentially change my abilities without warning.  The neglect I’ve shown to my physical self has transformed into a daily evaluation of function and action.  At the end of the day, I’m wrestling with the inevitable changes.  Denial had me thinking they were a decade or more away.  Delusion had me thinking they would pass.

It was twenty degrees this morning and the sun was shining.  In past winters I would have gone for a ride.  Not so today.  Until I acquire some sort of electric heat to my feet I’ll be careful to venture out.

I hate having to worry about this.  I hate the hard lesson of growing older.

For those reading, perhaps for the first time, my apologies for the gloomy thoughts.  If I could get out on the scooter everything would be different…

2017 Brave, Bold Blogger Challenge

This post is part of a month long writing prompt challenge conceived by Kathy at Toadmama.com.

Special Memory from 2016

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Steve Williams, Vespa rider

Photo by Gordon Harkins

What Do I Remember?

A blogging challenge has me thinking about a special memory from 2016.

Sorting and categorizing memories is tricky business.  What’s special one day if forgotten the next.  The scary, awful stuff seems to forever float near the surface of consciousness while the fun stuff takes work to recall.  This in part fuels both my journaling and photography — an action focused on building and retaining memory.

Riding and Recall

The rides have started to blur together making it difficult to choose one single ride as special.  There’s a subtle pressure to narrow a choice to family and loved ones as if there is a hierarchy of importance when it comes to memory.  I’ve accepted there’s no accounting for what my mind chooses to remember.  When I ride the Vespa scooter the world slips away leaving an open expanse to think and recall memories.  At least when I’m not thinking of the future.

The future — that has something to do with the most special memory of 2016.

It’s a memory about something that won’t happen for another 148 days — retirement.  Or more precisely, the special memory is a recollection of the jumbled thoughts and feelings related to my decision to accept a buyout offer for early retirement.  As early as nearly 44 years of employment can be.

foggy country roadThe Thrill of the Uncertain Road Ahead

The days leading up to to the deadline to accept or reject the retirement buyout offer were painted with dreams of adventure and stained with anxious misgiving of letting go of something that has been a steady beat my entire adult life.  I reflected on those concerns in a post titled Retirement: A New Adventure.

While many exciting and delightful things have happened in 2016, those days in September stand out as unique, strange, and special.

2017 Brave, Bold Blogger Challenge

This post is part of a month long writing prompt challenge conceived by Kathy at Toadmama.com.

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.