Scooter in the Sticks

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

Introduction to Vespa Riding: Coffee Shops

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Vespa scooter along a rural roadSolitary Experience

Riding a scooter or motorcycle, by nature, leans toward a solitary experience.  A passenger can be included or machines can congregate in groups and technology can be added to provide communication but rider and machine make up the critical whole.  People, and riders, like many forms of animal life, tend to congregate in flocks, herds, swarms and packs.  My riding tilts toward the loner. Any introduction to Vespa riding should point out those two schools of travel.

There is ample information available in print and online regarding the technical skills and requirements for safe operation of scooters and motorcycles so I won’t attempt to add anything here.  But their are unique, though certainly not universal, riding experiences that perhaps warrant attention.

Like the coffee shop experience.

Street scene in State College, PennsylvaniaCoffee Shops in Cities and Towns Across America

I can only speak for Pennsylvania and parts of Maryland and West Virginia.  Others might weigh in on the rest of the country as I illuminate the non-moving part of a ride, the coffee shop experience.  What I refer to is that moment during a ride when you say to yourself, “I’m taking a rest”, and you find yourself sitting in a small establishment dedicated to serving hot, brown liquid along with a small array of food.

Whether one of the nearly 13 thousand Starbucks establishments in the United States or the countless other local shops I’ve found these stops holding more than just a place to eat and drink.  These places can be an adventure in themselves for the observant rider.

Making coffee at Saint's Cafe in State College, PennsylvaniaMaking Coffee

Confession — I don’t drink coffee. Ever.  But they aroma is intoxicating and the myriad processes of refinement and concoction are fascinating and at times border on magical.  I’ve watched mesmerized as a barista creates art amidst a steaming cup of coffee with a flourish of hand and liquid.  It’s a far cry from a waitress showing up with a glass pot of black coffee from a BUNN coffee system.  It’s not better, just different.

And worth noticing as all sorts of traditions and rituals are swept aside as modernized processes take their place.  Maybe coffee shops, the small ones, are a last bastion of human endeavor.

I’m probably exaggerating the point.

Man sitting in coffee shop looking out windowWatching the World

I’ve found coffee shops good places to relax and think.  Unlike the hustling energy in a restaurant a coffee shop allows a person to fade into the background.  Watching this person at Saint’s Cafe I’m reminded of my own need to collect my thoughts.

Frequently.

Riding a Vespa scooter, or a motorcycle demands a heightened level of attention to the road in order to stay safe.  Bringing those skills indoors, especially if you’re making photographs, helps you see what’s going on around you.  I’m always amazed at how much I neglect to notice.

People in a coffee shopConsuming Information

It’s increasingly rare to see someone reading a newspaper in the places I haunt. Information consumption by mobile devices has already and will continue to change the face of the information world.  There’s a price though and as I watched these people I could not help but think the newspaper reader seemed more relaxed.

Probably a bias on my part. If I’m not already addicted to my iPhone I can see it from here.

Who am I kidding.  I feel naked without it.

Carl Ector in Saint's Cafe

Friends and Acquaintances

Like the bar family in the TV show Cheers, the same thing can happen in a coffee shop.  Carl is one of the regulars I’ve come to know from my frequent visits to Saint’s Cafe and appears periodically in photographs I make.

Riding a Vespa scooter or a motorcycle transports a rider through the world.  I often hear it’s all about the ride or the journey but I’ve come to realize the destination can also play an exceptional part of the ride.  For me, a coffee shop is one of those exceptional places.

What places are you and your ride drawn to?

Riding Resistance

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The intrusion of work, life, age and weather conspire to build powerful physical and cerebral riding resistance.  As the interval between rides (or blog posts) grows, the energy required to regain motion increases as well.

Or so it is with me…

Snow covered drivewayEvaluating Snow

Our new snow blower, cardiologist recommended, cuts a fine path to push the Vespa scooter out of the garage and into the world.  I did the winter riding dance, testing the road surface, evaluated the quality of snow, traffic and forecast for more of the white stuff.

Riding a scooter or motorcycle in winter, especially in snow, demands a long checklist of considerations.  On this morning I stopped at “Snow tires mounted”.  My Heidenau snow tires are sitting in the garage waiting to be called to action.

It’s been a week since I went for a ride and already I’m feeling the resistance.

Vespa GTS scooter on wet rural roadFlights of Euphoria (or not)

Last weekend I abided the damp chill of a light rain and temperatures in the upper thirties as I wandered the countryside pondering thoughts trespassing my serenity.  Some rides are flights of euphoria while others chained to the noise of existence, the scooter, like a team of draft horses, part of a forced toil dragging my grey cloud spirit along in hopes of finding clearer skies.

View of snow from Pump Station Cafe windowRide Cancelled Due to Snow

The view from the Pump Station Cafe in Boalsburg, Pennsylvania as I write this post.  Part of me wishes the Vespa was in the picture.  Most of me is happy I drove the car.  What sort of Vespa adventurer does that make me?

I don’t care.  Contentment, serenity and attendant happiness arrived when I grew comfortable with my choices and actions.  Wish it hadn’t taken so long to get here.

Eight inches of snow are on the ground with more falling.  Deciding not to ride is a good choice.  Provides an opportunity to respond to a mountain of unanswered email, write a post, rub the dog’s bellies, make pancakes, and generally frolic in the little joys of being alive.

Except for that part about email.

Vespa GTS scooter in a farm field on a rainy dayCenter of the World

I know my photographs of the scooter in the center of an empty space are metaphors for my brooding on life — especially the pathway decorated with murals of aging.  I’m not sure what’s more thrilling; riding to these places, or thinking about them later.  It’s a gift finding joy in both.

Everyone observes their path differently.  A quote from the movie based on Larry McMurtry’s book Lonesome Dove that I’ve come to recognize:

“The older the violin, the sweeter the music.”
— spoken by Augustus McCrae

Steve Williams and his Vespa GTS scooterResistance is Futile

The scooter always takes me where I want to go.  I may not know the destination or the reason I’m on the road but there always seems to be a mysterious arrival at the right place at the right time despite the rocky mental roads along the way. Riding resistance has continued to melt as the call of the road becomes louder.

For now, the snow will keep the scooter in the garage while I attend to other matters.

All is well.

 

Days Getting Short

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sunlight illuminates birch bark with days getting shortDamn, I sense days getting short.  Right now there’s less that ten hours of daylight.  With most of that time spent inside at work being able to see the melancholy light on our birch tree is a rare treat.  And a reminder of the end of things.

Or something.  Feels gloomy at the moment.  There are bright spots though — the ride home on the Vespa, a few bites of chocolate, two dog faces greeting me at the door.  Simple things that don’t ever seem to wear thin.

Vespa scooter at cemeteryI used to walk Essa and Iggy Pup through this cemetery a dog generation ago.  But the rise of inconsiderate (non-poop-picker-uppers) led to “No Dogs Allowed”.  Now I just ride past on the Vespa no longer visiting Dave and Tom and others.

The temperature is inching downward.  On the ride to work it was 39F.  The weather forecast suggests 31F tomorrow morning.  I’ve been exercising my ice eyes. And thinking about installing the Tucano Urbano muffs to keep my hands warm.

The days are getting short.

box of candy and LL Bean catalogCandy and dreams help make it through the dark.  Vicarious travel through ink and paper and gentle distraction through spending money at LL Bean are just a few of my favorite things.

The days are getting short.  And I’m none too happy about it.  I’ll discuss my displeasure with a dark chocolate cashew turtle.  And fondle a chocolate covered graham cracker.

What’s a man to do with days getting short?

Politics and Riding

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Vespa GTS 250ie scooter on a gravel roadAutumn is my favorite riding season.  It’s quietly exciting visually as the forest changes from green to gold and then bares it’s naked bones.  The falling temperatures push the body just enough to keep you awake and the frequent gray gloom overhead allows the mind to imagine a challenging world.

At least that’s how the road unfolded as I moved along Tussey Ridge.  And for a brief time I thought about politics and the world in which I ride.  They (whoever they are) say all politics are local and after some consideration I think I can agree.  The issue, regardless of what it is, always has a local aspect, even if it’s a world leader considering their personal legacy as they negotiate an international treaty.

lone oak tree in a farm field in autumnWhen I consider politics I find myself always on the outside looking in.  Even when I could be inside.  Years ago I saw a lot of how the sausage was made while working on a congressional campaign as a photographer.  I remember the day I was asked to photograph the opponent looking bored or “stupid”.  At a press conference the assembled photographers would fire their motor-drives at critical moments of gesticulation.

My camera would be silent, at least until a nose was wiped or a head was scratched.  The shutter echoed across the hall and the other photographers would turn my way.  After two or three shots the opponent’s campaign manager was on to me.  The politics were local.  And dishonest.  When the campaign ended I retired from politics and took up what would become a more honest path as an observer.

Looking at the tree in the field standing by itself, quiet, unconcerned, waiting for something to happen I couldn’t help but think of how much of my life unfolds the same way.  Just waiting and watching.

That may explain the lure photography has had for me all these years.

Vespa GTS 250ie scooter on gravel roadI’m not an activist or advocate — even about riding.  The recent Poisonous Tradition post was a natural off shoot of the storytelling I do on Scooter in the Sticks — sharing what I see, feel and experience while riding.

The temperature hovered at 50F while I tracked along a reasonably well mannered gravel road.  The high point of flaming foliage is behind us now but a slash of color still dazzled the otherwise monochromatic landscape.  And my back was pleasantly cooperative as well.

Vespa GTS 250ie scooter along Linden Hall RoadConsidering my aversion to politics it’s surprising I recently joined the American Motorcyclist Association, a group that supports a number of positions that I find perplexing but I was really just interested in the roadside coverage.

While stopped to make a few pictures I met Ace, a fellow who owns a little farm along the creek.

Portrait of Ace, master mechanicAce walked up to the road to see what I was doing and check if I needed help.  We talked awhile about cows and trout and the change in ownership of farms along the Cedar Run branch of Spring Creek.  Ace spotted the Vespa right off but was surprised it actually was a Vespa thinking they quit selling them in the United States decades ago.  After a quick inspection the conversation moved to Fords, and eventually to a shared experience in wrenching on a 1962 Ford Falcon.  He and I both had experience rebuilding the three speed transmission (without synchromesh for first gear) several times. Turns out he’s a master mechanic.

I thought about asking him a few political questions; his thoughts on the health risks associated with woodsmoke, whether loud pipes actually save lives, or whether our freedom was at risk from a growing nanny state.

The observer in me was curious but none of it mattered at the moment.  Ace’s brother came looking for him and I had lunch on my mind.

It doesn’t take much to dissuade me from political discussions.  And even less from religious ones.

Just a little shake of my head and like an Etch-a-Sketch I’m ready for another ride…

Accepting the Path Ahead

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yellow lines down a country roadWhile 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.

Vespa GTS 250ie scooterA 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.

Steve Williams and his Vespa scooterThe 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.

Vespa GTS 250ie in the countrysideRiding 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.

Vespa and farm treeCentral 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.

IV ports in my armsRemnants 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.

Steve Williams in the ICU at Mount Nittany Medical CenterI’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!