life Archives - Page 7 of 7 - Scooter in the Sticks

Meet Yourself on the Road

January 1, 2016 by Scooter in the Sticks 18 Comments

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”.

If 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.

A 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.

I 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.

Families 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.

As 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.

I 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!

Rain Riding

December 31, 2015 by Scooter in the Sticks 22 Comments

Life is not a problem to be solved, but a reality to be experienced.
Soren Kierkegaard

With rain riding, the road is long and often dark.

Especially during the last week. Rain and heavy overcast has created what can be an oppressive environment for riding both physically and mentally. Rain riding often asks for a little extra from a rider to get on the road and stay safe while there.

Stopping along the road to make a photograph gives you a chance to examine the pavement you’re riding on. A few steps, a drag of the sole of a boot along the road surface provides a sense of traction and the limits to work within.

And I’m always looking at the landscape in which my life unfolds. On some days it can feel like a scene from a movie.

The universe provides reminders that it’s not a movie.

Like finding a new bicycle path as a hint that some of my motorized riding could be transitioned to body powered travel in recognition of a healthier way of living.

I looked at my pink mountain bike today and considered riding it for a fleeting moment.

The world is a big place with magic everywhere.

I feel that but know it hasn’t always been the case. Something changed that has allowed me to see the world differently. I like to ascribe that change to riding the Vespa but I could just as easily credit my camera which has forced a continual visual engagement.

If pushed I would probably say the advancement of years has made everything more precious. Looking around I realize how fleeting it all is. Riding provides a front row seat on the world. Getting older provides the patience to watch the show.

Reality is strange.

Riding across the valley south of State College brings a rider through some open, rolling agricultural areas. The round bales almost seemed like some new form of livestock as they sat in the corn stubble. The scene feels more like a painting than a photograph.

You can never see everything.

Fog and mist shroud the ridge tops obscuring the view. Imagination fills in the gaps and I’m always imagining Brigadoon. Funny how stories stick in your head and trigger a desire for something magic to happen. I have a long list of daydreams.

There is rest for the weary.

By the end of the ride, just shy of 50 miles, I was feeling the dampness and chill seep into my body. Not painful or uncomfortable but enough to allow genuine appreciation of a hot drink in a warm place. It’s easy to imagine travelers moving through the wilderness 200 years ago by wagon or horse and coming upon an inn at the end of a long day.

And so I sit with my hot tea staring out the window and imagining other lives and times, all because of a little rain riding.

Strangled by Circumstance

December 18, 2015 by Scooter in the Sticks 22 Comments

In case you wondered why the posts have dried up I’ve not been abducted by aliens, I’ve not had another heart attack and I’ve not entered a monastery. I’ve just been strangled by circumstance.

Among the many things that have diverted attention away from the Vespa and riding has been a transition to a new job managing digital education. Part of that includes developing 50 or 60 online training courses by July. And a few other things.

And the holidays and family attract time and attention. Two dogs constantly ask for me and I have my own personal regimen of post heart attack dances to attend to.

Even the pictures of the Vespa seem a bit strangled by stuff. I’ve not ridden as much lately and that’s never a formula for joy. But I still ride when my brain allows, when I’m not strangled by circumstance.

Most rides of late have taken me somewhere to relax, reflect, eat and write. But nothing I can share here. Just the regular ravings of an old man resisting the draw to go quietly into the night.

I do have some photos to share and some stories about riding in the frozen fog we were blessed with for a week or more. For now though, I just want to check in and say hello.

Accepting the Path Ahead

May 16, 2015 by Scooter in the Sticks 89 Comments

While the road may appear straight and the destination clear, there are endless possibilities for interruption – a tree limb, a vestige of a truck tire, a distracted driver or a sudden dash of a deer. A routine ride can suddenly become a tragic event. I’ve considered many possible challenges on the road and have worked through strategies to address them. Finding a measure of calm and focus is important and I have developed a sort of fateful acceptance of what I might face on the road and in life.

That fateful acceptance was tested when I walked into the Emergency Room at Mount Nittany Medical Center on Thursday evening.

A few days earlier I had been riding the Vespa on a few errands with a minor detour to enjoy some of the more open areas of the valley. After a long day a ride offers an opportunity to clear away the noise of the day and focus on what’s in front of you, excluding everything that doesn’t matter to the riding task at hand.

Standing in the emergency room I tried to summon that ability to focus on the task at hand and push the anxiety and fear aside for the moment. As succinctly as possible I described the events of the day to the triage nurse that brought me to her. Extreme fatigue in the afternoon, early to bed only to awake to pain in my left arm, nausea, heartburn, and shortness of breath. At home my blood pressure measured 200/105, a marked departure from my usual 120/70.

The solitary nature of riding has been instructive activity and has contributed to the unraveling of personal mysteries and shortcomings. I believe many non-riders think of two-wheeled life as a physical indulgence that’s both ego driven and fraught with danger. And on the surface, I might not disagree. But in a complex, harried world it can provide the mindful rider with a haven for relaxation, introspection and escape from the well-worn grooves of everyday drama.

I think the triage nurse was surprised to see my blood pressure standing at 210/110 and immediately send me to a bed where a technician did an EKG.

Heart function was normal.

Riding under a gathering gray sky is probably my favorite time to be on the road. Knowing the weather is changing and not sure what I’ll have to manage triggers a twinge of excitement as I consider how I might be tested. I’m certain it drives my encounters with winter.

The emergency room doctor questioned me on my medical history and symptoms as she worked to determine what to do with the high blood pressure while a nurse inserted an IV line into my arm and injected an anti-nausea medication that I could taste in seconds. Amazing how fast things move in the body. A minute later the nausea subsided and I realized the heartburn was actually pain.

While the doctor and nurse were in the hall discussing next steps I began to sweat and had trouble breathing. The pain in my arm and chest moved from annoying to something I can only assume was reserved for people who have lived on hot dogs, bacon cheeseburgers and little chocolate donuts.

For the first time in my life I pushed the red button.

Central Pennsylvania’s agricultural landscape is dotted with solitary trees that once served to provide shade for plow horses when farmers stopped for their midday meal. I see them as quiet testaments to life in a world where things change. Not matter how many times I pass this particular tree I almost always stop. I did this past week.

The ER doctor looked at me and asked for another EKG and it minutes it was apparent I was having a heart attack.

Things happen quickly in an ER when someone rings the heart attack bell. The rather mellow two person interaction suddenly swirled into a team of people acting in a precision dance of actions as they readied me for something yet to be determined. One person was shaving my arms and groin while another was placing a nitroglycerin tablet under my tongue. Morphine was pushed through the IV port and a cardiologist was on his way.

The pain got worse as I watched the ceiling lights on my way to the Cardiac Catherization Lab.

Remnants of my arrival at the ER – ports still in my arms in case they need to push drugs into me in a hurry.

The catherization team was outstanding – friendly yet undoubtedly professionally focused in ways I’ll never understand. They were able to convert what could have been frightening into something surprisingly mechanical. At least for me, they kept me focused on what they were doing so I wouldn’t panic with thoughts that I could die. I remember joking with them, thinking it would have been cool to have ridden the Vespa to my heart attack experience because it would have made a better blog post, but mostly thinking I hope they stop the pain.

A catheter was inserted into my wrist where the cardiologist determined my right coronary artery was 100 percent blocked. I remember feeling a sudden departure of the pain and muttering, “The morphine must have kicked in.”. The doctor said we just restored your blood flow.

I’m not sure how long this all took but afterwards they showed me computer images of my artery before and after a drug-eluting stent was inserted. It looked dramatic to me and I felt like a new man save for some wooziness from the morphine.

I’ve been in the ICU for about 36 hours now and feel remarkably better. The cardiologist said I’ll probably feel better than I have in a long time since blood flow has likely been restricted for awhile. And it was good to hear that I could resume life as normal. Well, not quite.
I will certainly be able to do everything physically I did before and they actually expect a little more from me. The doctor stressed I am not fragile. Lifestyle changes are part of the adventure ahead that will affect medication, diet and exercise, two things I’ve fought a losing battle with for decades. Now that I have more concrete proof that I’m not indestructible I’ll have to tap into some of the riding focus to take a little better care of myself.

There is much to be grateful for with access to medical care being one of them. Since I got in quickly there was little damage to my heart and the cardiologist expects I’ll not notice any limitations. Accepting the path ahead is already done as I plan some changes. The devil is in the details though and Kim, our kids and friends will help to move things forward as we embark on another adventure.

And if I understand the cardiologist correctly, I can go for a scooter ride on Monday!

Riding and Memory

November 4, 2006 by Scooter in the Sticks 11 Comments

On the way home last night I stopped at a church near my home. The landscape had that intense end of autumn feel where the sky seems bloated with the color and shape of snow. Looking across the cemetery I experienced a flood of memories extending back to childhood and while not all of them were pleasant I was grateful for the experiences and being able to accept them. As I walked around I saw this tree standing as a silent witness to the world — much like I was to my own world.

Last night I had a dream about my dog Iggy Pup. It was one of those dreams that is so real that you see, smell and touch. Iggy Pup was a big American Foxhound and possessed all the qualities of a stubborn and ingenious hound.

How does this relate to riding and memory aside from the random experience described above? For the past few years I have been working to pay attention more to my life and not allow myself to be devoured by things that rob me of what is important. The noise and chaos of everyday living can easily put a man to sleep. I did not want to wake up on my death bed and realize I squandered my life. I have used writing, photography, video and now riding as tools to pay attention. The link to the video below was made to help me understand, pay attention to, and accept things that were part of my life. And not just the good things like a loving family, a good job, friends and a scooter in the garage but also those difficult transitions that we all face eventually. As I thought about my experience on the way home yesterday I realized that the Vespa has a powerful ability to heighten my awareness not only of the road but my entire life. And from that awareness I form memory, something important to who I am.

For those of you who ride recreationally this might seem a stretch. For those riders who have succumbed to the siren song and ride longer than seems prudent you may already be experiencing some of these unexpected gifts. Life unfolds at its own pace whether we are paying attention or not and I do not want to miss any of it.