Scooter in the Sticks

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

Looking Out the Window

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Glass of water on window sill with Vespa scooter outsideMorning Water and Vespa Scooter

I always look out windows. Wherever I am, whatever I’m doing, there’s a hope of actually seeing the world. Sitting in the back seat of the car next to my granddaughter it was interesting to watch her young eyes peer out the window at the world.  I wondered how different her world must look from one weighed down with a lifetime of experience and opinion.

Mornings find me in an oak rocker with a bowl of cereal, gazing at nothing in particular, looking out the window as the day takes shape.  But the looking drives me like nothing else.  When I’m tired and exhausted you won’t find me rising to answer a phone or take on another chore, but I’ll always take another look out the window.

Riding is like that.  I’ll always ride one more mile — to see what’s out that road window ahead.Continue Reading

Riding Freedom: Scooter in the Mountains

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Foggy forest road near Little FlatFog on the Mountain

Standing in the yard with the dogs this morning I could see fog on the mountain.  The scooter moves toward it like a compass needle points north.  I feel the draw.  And I feel the pressure of responsibility to work, or take care of the incessant business of life.  A friend suggests I abandon work and go for a ride.

While standing here making the photograph of the road disappearing into the fog I’me struck by how infrequent it is that I feel disconnected from responsibility, free from the thoughts that I need to be somewhere or do something.  Riding goes to great lengths to help detach for awhile.  I suspect many experience that riding freedom. But I wonder what true freedom feels like.  Or even if it exists at all.

I had to revisit a piece I wrote for Motorcycle.com called Riding and the Taste of Freedom.  See how my thinking changes.  Or doesn’t.Continue Reading

Life is Good

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life is good blog graphicKeeping All the Plates Spinning

I want to believe life can be simple.  That existence can be reduced to a few, important tasks.  If only I had discipline.  Or more money.  Of if the world would behave the way I think it should.  Then things would be simple.

The blog graphic came into existence while wondering why I couldn’t ride more often.  As if life could be something akin to eat, pray, love.

Ride, sleep, ride.

As enlightening as riding can be, it leaves a trail of infantile denial about some things.

Still, I can’t help but think I’m doing it wrong.  I should be on the road more — happy, joyous and free.

Fine dream.  So is winning the Powerball drawing.

Back to reality.  Fueled the car and van this evening along with the gas can for the snowblower in anticipation of “the worst snow storm of the season.”  Penn State has already announced it will be closed tomorrow.  I’ve already started to wonder if I can go for a little ride on the Vespa.  Wish I had put the snow tires on.

Instead, I’ll run the snow blower, sleep late, and generally pretend I’m retired and lazy.  Testing options for the future.

And that’s the way it is on the night before the storm.

Life is good.

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.

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.