Scooter in the Sticks

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

Uncertain Rider

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Steve Williams with Vespa GTS scooterAs much as I love to ride there are days that I don’t. The reasons vary from sloth to injury with a myriad of rationalizations, excuses and justifications in between. Over time I’ve learned nothing is as simple as it appears and whatever is going on in my head is always worth inspecting even if it makes me an uncertain rider.

Independence

I was raised to be independent, take care of things, not complain, and move on. Attendant to that way of functioning in the world is what I call the “know it all” personality that reduces everything to a simple formula with little attention to the details that make every person and experience unique. It may be what makes slogans so seductive – everything from “Just say no to drugs” to “Just do it”. I certainly lean toward the easy solution that avoids the troublesome and messy landscape of emotion. In that place I can become an uncertain rider.

Yesterday morning my head was clogged with concerns and worries creating a swirl of anxious thoughts about everything from the manner in which I would repair a section of drywall in the bathroom to figuring out how to tackle production of 60 online courses when I get back to work. With my brain switching quickly from one thought to the next it was difficult to focus mental or physical energy on anything including riding.

Not Riding

Every rider has reasons not to ride. Those reasons provide the framework to evaluate situations in which our skills, expertise and comfort fit. It’s different for everyone – a framework that keeps one rider smiling may terrify another. Finding personal limits is scary because it may mean you’re different than everyone else. In some riding circles being different is not a comfortable position. The same often applies to life – I think of my return from Germany in 1964 with a brand new pair of suede Lederhosen thinking they were the coolest thing ever. Then I wore them to my 5th grade class…

Self Portraits

I stopped on the way to the Pump Station Cafe to make this self-portrait because I knew something wasn’t quite right and there are times when turning the camera my direction helps diagnose problems. (A gift from long ago via Ralph Hattersley’s book Discover Your Self Through Photography).

So here I am – what do I see?

First, it’s cold outside and I’m wearing jeans instead of my armored overpants. Diverging from wearing all the gear all the time always means something. In this case I didn’t really want to ride and wasn’t sure why I even got on the scooter in the first place.

Second, I’m standing in the water. I chose the spot to park the Vespa based on the photographic possibilities offered by reflections in the water. Not paying attention led me to stand in the water. Not paying attention while riding, especially on a cold, wet day can lead to poor choices.

On Down the Road

On this day I moved on to the Pump Station to write in my journal, eavesdrop on conversations, and slowly sort out my thoughts. An hour later I was at home doing chores. An hour after that I was back on the Vespa with all the gear, riding into the gloom, no longer an uncertain rider.

Riding and Writing

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Whether you’re keeping a journal or writing as a meditation, it’s the same thing. What’s important is you’re having a relationship with your mind.
— Natalie Goldberg

Vespa GTS scooter and Mount Nittany on Christmas morningChristmas morning, a short ride through the valley, alone on the road with my thoughts, an experience I’ve come to call meditation.  Lest the word become off-putting I have to say those meditative experiences range from quiet reflection to exhilarating thrill with great measures of fun stirred into the mix.  I find both riding and writing play an important role in how I wrestle with the sights and sounds of the road I travel — literally and figuratively.

I keep three journals.  One, a small Moleskine journal which travels with me almost everywhere to dump noise and fear, frolic and joy as needed.  Another larger plain, black Moleskine classic notebook that I sketch ideas for blog posts and riding dreams and nightmares.  And the third is Scooter in the Sticks where many posts take shape from a blank screen as I push my fingers over the keyboard with undefined need.

In each case, riding and writing often play a role in sorting out what’s moving through my head.

Standing alone in a field and gazing across the valley I call home is common.  Sometimes it lasts only a moment while I make a photograph. Others are a more extended visit while I engage a larger conversation with the universe or as someone recently suggested a conversation with God.

Vespa scooter on a winding forest roadEveryone has limits — real and imagined.  For riders it might be weather, location or time of day.  Riding through a little gravel track in the woods on a Vespa scooter may work for me but rise toward the top of the stupid list for another.  Regardless, for every rider the important part is to ride and for many that act is a challenge with so many competing demands for time and attention.  Sometimes it’s just hard to make the choice to go for a ride.

The same applies to writing. Natalie Goldberg’s Writing Down the Bones: Freeing the Writer Within is perhaps the finest book on writing I have read and helps move from a few scribbled notes on through doubt on to something called writing.

For me writing has been a faithful friend through joyous and troubled times alike.  It requires little more than a willingness to invest myself with time.  Most of what I write is never seen by anyone and I seldom look back at what I’ve written.  The act itself is the end much like riding — the movement through space, physical or mental, is its own reward.

Vespa scooter on a misty morningIf pressured to describe myself I’ll say I’m alone in the world.  Many of my photographs are probably a reflection of that feeling.  Perhaps I see myself as the Vespa.  That idea isn’t important.  What is important is how I’ve come to know myself.

Riding and writing open doorways to access what otherwise may remain hidden — thoughts and feelings bubbling below the surface yet animating actions and behaviors.  Finding those tools along with others has been a gift.  When asked about Scooter in the Sticks I tell people it’s a blog about riding a Vespa scooter.  And while that’s true it’s more than that for me — it’s an opportunity to sift through experience and hold onto the little lessons that are easy to miss.

Standing in a field on looking out at the world I see my long dead parents and the Christmas mornings we had.  I see my heart attack and physical life beyond.  I see my family and their hopes and dreams.  I see myself as an old man riding a Vespa.  And without writing I would be blind to those lessons.

Riding and writing — the gift to myself on Christmas.

Riding in Frozen Fog

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If you really want to know what Middle-earth is based on, it’s my wonder and delight in the earth as it is, particularly the natural earth.  — J.R.R. Tolkien

Meadow covered in ice crystals from a frozen fogAwakening from a dream only to find another.  For a week at the beginning of December each day began shrouded in fog and mist.  And on a few sub-freezing days the world was painted with ice crystals while riding in frozen fog.

I understand Tolkien’s wonder and delight at the world.  I need not go far to find it myself.  The Vespa has transported me to and through many wonders.

These mornings have been the coldest riding so far this fall and for the first time required some extended thought and consideration of the road surface and potential for ice.  For successful winter riding I believe a fundamental shift in thought and temperament is essential.  I counsel against sub-freezing riding for the simple reason that most riders have a difficult time becoming someone else in winter.

The road while riding in frozen fogI love being alone in the fog, standing on an empty road lost in fantasy, a prisoner of imagination.  I’m living in my world, but just down the road, just out of sight in the fog is another.

Riding in frozen fog is doubly challenging due to limited vision on top of the potential for ice on the road.  Riding is different; more controlled and governed.  Roads covered in frozen fog aren’t the place to lean aggressively through turns or push the envelop of speed and power.  It’s a different kind of riding.

Trees shrouded in frozen fogSubdued, ice covered scenes lined each side of the road as I wandered along on the Vespa.  Making photographs was, in part, an excuse to test the surface of the road with the sole of my boots.  Most of the ride showed little ice on the pavement but since there’s been no salt yet this season I couldn’t count on a dry surface.

Ice covered trees forming a tunnel while riding in frozen fog A Hollywood production would make a scene like this.  Riding along through the morning revealed a continual magical landscape that left me wide-eyed and smiling.

And cold.  The time has come to put the Tucano Urbano muffs over the handgrips to keep the wind away from my aging fingers.

Vespa GTS scooter in a frost covered fieldHow often do you ride and find yourself wishing?  Wishing for more time, for one more ride and one more road…

When I find myself wishing I wonder if I’m sensing time slipping by more quickly, or maybe just realizing how fleeting all of these experiences really are.  Like fog and frost.

Vespa GTS scooter in the fog in Rothrock State ForestI’ve driven or ridden this stretch of forest road countless times since I first made the journey in my VW Beetle back in 1972.  And now I stand there thinking I may never pass this way again.  Fear and anxiety live in the fog and mist.

Riding down the mountain toward town I had to stop periodically to warm my hands — additional evidence that I need to get the muffs on.

Riding in frozen fog with the Vespa GTS scooterAll I want is to see the world one more time.  The fog strips away the noise and confusion leaving the bones of the world.  I think I can see where I’m going.

Making photographs in the cold weather calls on me to sacrifice my hands in order to manipulate the tiny buttons and wheels on the digital camera.  After all these years you would think I would have solved that problem.

At this moment I decide to ride toward hot tea and warmth and give up the pursuit of the magic landscape.

Round bales in the fogOn the way to the Pump Station in Boalsburg, Pennsylvania I stop to admire round bales in a field.  They stand like ancient dolmens on watch for something I can neither know or understand.

Perhaps overwhelmed by the visual part of the ride, the constant scanning for ice, the continual eye movements looking for vehicles fore and aft, I begin to fall slowly back to earth from the creations in my head, unexpectedly exhausted from the ride.

And that is a glimpse of what it’s like for me to ride in frozen fog…

Strangled by Circumstance

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Vespa parked along College Avenue in State College, PAIn 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.

Vespa scooter illegally parkedEven 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.

At the Pump Station in Boalsburg, PAMost 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.

Alone on the Road

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Vespa GTS on a rural roadRiding alone has curative powers for my irritated mind.  Destination or route don’t seem to matter as much as being alone with my thoughts.  Being alone isn’t as much a desire as it is a need.  Without recurring doses of time alone I get:

  • irritable
  • grumpy
  • disagreeable
  • out of sorts
  • quick-tempered
  • cranky

Basically a pain in the ass.

At some level I probably recognized this personal quality and adjusted my interests and time to satisfy the need to be alone.  Walking, hiking, wandering with a camera and now riding.  A few miles on the scooter and the world begins to make sense.  Or at least my restless thinking begins to calm down.

This morning it was cold when I left the house with the temperature at 41F.  Destinations rolled through my head as I pushed the Vespa out of the garage but none fired enough neurons to form a plan.  A plan isn’t really necessary when being alone is the goal.

Vespa GTS 250 along Spring CreekMost of the leaves are down now and we could see snow at any time.  The days continue to shorten and already I’ve gone to work and returned home in the dark.  This morning I took a short ride just to soak up some sunshine and embrace the day.  I’ve been by this place many times but I’ve still not really seen it.  When asked if I bore of riding the same paths I always think of the photographer, Josef Sudek, who during the Nazi occupation of Prague spent years photographing in his little studio and window and made a remarkably complex and rich collection of photographs.

There’s much more to see on the roads I travel.

large pumpkin statue made of round hay balesI never saw this hay bale pilgrim all ready for Thanksgiving.  Someone spent some time and effort putting it together including the use of hydraulics considering the weight of a round bale of hay.

Lots to see on the road.

Vespa GTS 250 scooter in a field under a blue sky with cloudsA perfect morning.  Looking at the scooter in such an idyllic setting it’s hard for me to understand why anyone would oppose someone learning to ride.  Even when considering more traffic intensive places the question persists.

I’ve heard a resistant spouse or lover raise the danger question fearing the almost certain death that accompanies riding.  It may present as “we have children” or “I had a friend who rode…”.  I understand the concern and I’ll be the first to admit that riding is more dangerous than driving a car.  But there are other points to consider.

Who is taking the greater risk?  A distracted driver, frustrated and in a hurry to beat traffic or a rider focused on the road, relaxed and happy?

And who is a better partner, parent or lover?  The angry driver who comes home wound tight or the rider who arrives home with a measure of serenity mixed with pleasure?

Vespa along rural roadI like to think riding has made me a better person.  I certainly feel lighter and happier after a ride, even a short one through ordinary places, alone on the road, alone with my thoughts.

bagel and tea at the Pump Station CafeAt the end of the ride I stopped at the Pump Station Cafe to make a few notes and read a few more pages from Thomas Merton’s Thoughts In Solitude.

Like Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry Into Values, it takes some work to understand and for some the Christian perspective can be a problem.  Even though Merton was a Trappist monk, his writing kept his religion personal and never felt as if he were preaching.  The first book I read by Merton was The Seven Storey Mountain, a fascinating story of Merton’s withdrawal from the world and into a monastic order of silence.

It’s safe to read — I wouldn’t fear abandoning your worldly possessions to become a monk.  And besides, if you have a scooter or motorcycle, you don’t really need a monastery.