Scooter in the Sticks

Exploring life on a Vespa, Royal Enfield Himalayan, Honda Trail 125, and a Kawasaki W650

Riding in Circles

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Paul Ruby on his red Honda Trail 125 motorcycle.
A wild man in paradise.

Text Messages

“I’m honda trailing to grange if u want to tag along for the ride”

Verbatim from Paul. Capitalization and punctuation aren’t required to understand the offer. While I have no desire to go to the Grange Fair it would be nice to get out of the house and go for a ride. That’s reason enough and the text message provided the nudge to get up off my ass.

We took the back way to Centre Hall, slow roads with little traffic. When we stopped to say goodbye I can’t help to shudder a bit thinking what it would feel like for me to ride with no gloves and short pants. Paul is unconcerned.

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Friendship Follows Interests: Riding and Photography

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A black & white photograph of two men in a mirror.
A familiar state of being.

Making Friends

A young man I know complains how hard it is to meet people. To make friends. For me, friendships have all developed from common interests. Years ago it was hiking and backpacking. Then photography, and now riding. I’d like to tell that young man he is unlikely to find friends at bars, playing video games, dabbling in crypto, and placing bets with Draft Kings. I won’t offer advice unless he specifically asks for it.

My friend Paul recently gave me a photograph he made of the two of us at a local diner. It immediately struck a chord — that’s my friend Paul, always making photos, always sharing a ride.

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The Trail 125: Keeping the Spark Alive as the Years Roll On

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Steve Williams selfie in Moshannon State Forest.
Getting older but still having fun.

In the Mirror

A few years ago, just before turning 70, I looked in the mirror and acknowledged I’m getting old. Not an admission of failure or surrender, but rather an acceptance of reality and the need to make some adjustments. Especially as it pertains to riding. While still able to ride bigger motorcycles I could tell the comfort point had shifted. Particularly riding off the pavement. And that desire to maintain a reasonable comfort level led me to buy the Honda Trail 125. The perfect little motorcycle for an old man hell bent on still exploring places where the road isn’t always well traveled or maintained.

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Frustration and Gratitude

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A 2022 Royal Enfield Himalayan parked along a road.
A substitute for my injured Kawasaki W650.

The Mental Merry-Go-Round

Over and over I’m reminded that there’s little profit in holding too tightly to my plans. It was demonstrated again as I prepared for a long ride with my friend Paul and proceeded to rip the tire valve from a rear tire of my W650 before even leaving the driveway. Hugely frustrating because I had planned so carefully, visualized the map, and imagined how it would feel to be on the road with a friend on a leisurely ride to breakfast.

The frustration was strong and dominating my thoughts which in turn robs me of some of the riding experience as I replay events in my head, continually kicking myself for the stupid mistakes I made leading up to having to replace the W650 with my Himalayan. Gratitude was nowhere to be found despite the gift of having an alternative machine to ride.

Frustration was ruling the moment and blinding me to anything good or positive. A sad way to leave on a ride.

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Falling in Love With an Empty Road

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2001 Kawasaki W650 parked in a driveway.
A routine start to breakfast with the W650.

A Benign Beginning

There’s nothing special or unusual about riding to my friend Paul’s house to join him for a ride to breakfast. They’re generally destination oriented by some route chosen for it’s scenic views of the landscape and as lightly traveled as possible. And with the Kawasaki W650 and Harley 48 gravel roads are off the ride menu.

Two breakfast destinations were in my head but the “best” choice remained elusive. Strange how much space a dining choice can occupy in a brain. To quiet my mind I’ll often repeat these two rules — RULE 1: “Don’t sweat the small stuff. RULE 2: It’s all small stuff.”

Difficult rules to follow or even believe. Embracing them calls into question the importance I attach to so many things. And my attachments often just make me miserable. While many things may require my attention, few rise to the level of the importance I create in my head. Like where we should have breakfast.

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