Scooter in the Sticks

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

Alone on the Road

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Vespa GTS scooter on empty street at dawnEmpty Streets

Black Friday.  Early into town for breakfast with a friend.  Town seems deserted on what is supposed to be one of the busiest retail days of the year. It’s one thing to be alone on the road in the forests and mountains outside of town.  But in town, well, it almost feels creepy to not see anyone.

Stuffed toy duck on the back of a Vespa scooterToy Duck on a Vespa Scooter

After breakfast I passed a toy store, Growing Tree Toys, and thought it made sense to browse their wares for something that might interest my granddaughter.  Ducks are high on her list of interests so this fellow joined me for a little ride.

Vespa GTS scooter in the woodsRide Through the Woods

My back wasn’t up to a ride and to be honest, I sort of forced myself to take the scooter out at all.  I have a pack of reasons why I should keep riding but few suggesting I stay off the machine and let my back heal a bit more.  Recovery is slow but moving in the right direction.

I let the Vespa draw me along some forest roads to enjoy the last of autumn before the snow begins to fall.  And on Monday an army of deer hunters will make riding in Pennsylvania forests a bit unnerving — even with a high VIZ jacket on my back.

Vespa GTS scooterUtilitarian Vespa Scooter

As transportation the Vespa scooter is outstanding.  It gets from point A to point B without a fuss.  And it’s indifferent to the type of road; comfortable on backroads, freeways or tours across a cornfield.

I don’t know why I keep choosing paths that bump along.  My back is far more pleased with smooth pavement than bouncing around of the road.  I did stop at a local body shop for an estimate to repaint the undercarriage of the scooter.  Many winters of salt and much have made a mess of things.  In a couple weeks I drop it off for a bit of restoration work…

Cup of tea at the Pump Station in Boalsburg, PennsylvaniaCafe Life…

I suspect for most of December I’ll be without the scooter.  Opportunities to be alone on the road may give way to more work on other projects — ones I plan to work on in retirement.  I’m still trying to figure out how that second career will unfold and where my “office” will take shape.  I’ve considered cafes and coffee shops along with the local library.  I’ve also thought about renting an office space somewhere so I’ll have a place to provide some structure to any new endeavors.

For now though, I just keep wandering, alone on the road…

First Snow Vespa

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Vespa GTS scooter on a cold, gray dayCold Morning Ride

Gray skies, high winds and the temperature hovering near the freezing point provides the first real opportunity to beginning the winter riding tempering process — the slow introduction of body and outlook to the cold.  Do it wrong or too fast and you risk joining the riding masses who put their machines away when the temperature descends below 60 degrees Fahrenheit.

There’s nothing wrong with that decision either.

Riding into town via a slight detour allowed a little more time to face the cold weather music.  Flecks of snow and ice drifted in the air.  It’s time to begin scanning the road differently — identifying potential for ice and other winter hazards.

Saint's Cafe in State College, PennsylvaniaSaint’s Cafe in State College, Pennsylvania.

Eventually, the Vespa scooter and I make our way to Saint’s Cafe.  Electric gloves, layers and winter riding gear, balaclava, and chemical heating pads in my boots.  Hands were still cold — I held the pot of hot tea longer than normal to restore the blood flow to my fingers.

I’ll have to put the grip muffs on the scooter to keep the wind off my hands.  They’re magic in that regard.

View of Great Sand Dunes National Park in Colorado.

Photo by Paul Ruby

Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve

Paul and I get together on Sunday mornings to share photographs and talk about photography.  The intent that the conversation will keep us working.  He just returned from a trip to Colorado, Arizona and New Mexico where he made a photograph at the Great Sand Dunes National Park.  The print he made was stunning and echoed the paintings by Mark Rothko.

Unfortunately, the clear blue sky in the photo was not available today.

snow on a Vespa GTS scooterSnow Begins

The weather forecast promised snow.  Not long after departing from the cozy warmth of Saint’s Cafe the wind started to blow harder and snow arrived — the sticky stuff that requires constant removal from the faceshield on the helmet.

Vespa GTS scooter on a rural road during a snow flurrySnow on the Road

Despite being cold, windy, and having to clear snow off the helmet, the roads stayed only wet without any slippery accumulation of snow.  As I made my way home the snow began to fall harder.  The Vespa GTS 250 has an ambient temperature indicator on the instrument cluster that’s helpful in monitoring when I need to be concerned with water turning into something more dangerous — especially when there’s no salt on the road.

Snow VespaSnow Vespa

I’m not sure if I’m ready for winter.  As pretty as the world looks in the snow there’s a lot of baggage that comes along with it.  I remember how grateful I am to feel warm days in March and dream of putting winter behind me.  But it’s only starting now.

This is the first snow.  I have no idea what the next few months will bring.  I’ll have to go up into the attic over the garage and retrieve my Heidenau snow tires and hope the squirrels haven’t decided to snack on them.

For now, I’ve taken the first step in preparing for winter riding — braving the cold.  For me, it’s a mental challenge.  A snow flurry and temperatures around the freezing mark will give way to temperatures ten degrees lower and so forth.

Will I make it into the sub-zero realm again?

Am I Too Old to Ride a Motorcycle (or Scooter)?

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Too Old to Ride?

Self-portrait at night in store window reflectionPersonal Reflections

I’ve been asking myself a lot lately whether I’ve reached a point where I can’t reliably ride anymore.  Whether some future motorcycle to be named later or the Vespa GTS scooter that I’ve been riding for the past decade.

It’s a crappy conversation to have with yourself if you really enjoy riding.  My father-in-law was talking about the same conversation he’s been having about bicycles.  But he’s almost twenty years further down the road than I am.

It’s been three months waiting for my lower back to heal.  This isn’t the first time I’ve felt this way.  Only the first where things haven’t gotten better.  The lingering, gnawing pain and sudden, startling bursts of electric weakness provide ample pause when deciding to ride.  Putting on gear and boots is an adventure in itself that can leave me cringing and panting from the task.

I suppose I should be surprised at the mental conversations.

Vespa GTS on a winding road in autumn forestLong and winding road

In my dreams I’m riding well into my eighties.  My granddaughter has her own motorcycle and lectures me on some aspect of life as she comes into her own.  Two weeks ago I was riding through the local forests to enjoy the sights and fragrances of a changing autumn world.  Each stop to push the scooter onto the center stand was a breath-holding event as I was never sure if the movement involved would impinge an already irritated nerve.

There are a few things I consider when thinking about the big riding stop sign:

  1.  Am I strong enough to manage the weight involved?
  2. Is my mind clear?
  3. Are my reactions reliable?
  4. Am I afraid to be on the road?
  5. Can I see?

Five simple questions.  And so far, with only momentary and somewhat predictable situations, only the first question is relevant.  All the rest receive a positive response.

Vespa GTS scooter on gravel forest roadRough roads

I love riding through the near endless forest roads here in central Pennsylvania.  While the Vespa scooter may not be the first choice for this terrain it’s capable enough for any rider not bent on break-neck speeds and tricks.  My own recent wandering in Rothrock State Forest to absorb the flaming foliage has been satisfying if not at times jarring along rough stretches of road.

Autumn skyAutumn sky

The light is different this time of year.  The sun remains lower in the sky and I swear it paints far better cloud drawings than any other time of the year.  I know I look up more this time of year to look, and to think.  Like whether I’m too old to ride.

Perhaps the past week was just a bad stretch of body encounters on top of some bouncing riding that caused me to grit my teeth.  Another chiropractor appointment that doesn’t seem to help.  A rheumatologist who doesn’t think my auto-immune arthritis has worsened but perhaps a physical therapist could help.  Add a colonoscopy to the mix and perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised I’m asking whether I’m too old to ride.

And it’s cold.  That early, cold-season riding desire crushing cold.  It was 27F this morning.

Vespa GTS scooter at sunsetVespa riding sunset

Am I too old to ride?  No.  Can I ride as I wish? No.  Are things going to change?  Don’t know.  Just a sample of the questions I have been experiencing lately as my riding has changed to accommodate my aching back.

A few days ago I hopped on the scooter to ride to a local eatery to pick up dinner and stopped along the way to drink in the sunset.  These small journeys are the norm these days.  The occasional 150 mile weekend jaunts are growing more rare as I make decisions to not stress the healing I imagine taking place in my lower back.  And those decisions work into the personal conversations I have with myself about growing older and myriad decisions including whether I’m too old to ride.

When I talk with other riders I seldom hear anything personal aside from bragging about riding accomplishments or the mechanical nuances of their motorcycle or scooter.  Conversations about personal challenges, misgivings or concerns seem off limits.  Personal story telling seems a difficult challenge.

It’s why I write.  Putting words on a page is easier than talking.  For me at least.

I’m not too old to ride.  I am currently struggling with some physical hurdles to riding but am still confident that work and focus will allow me to get over them.

It will be just above the freezing mark in the morning.  And I want to go for a ride.  The desire is still there…

Autumn Vespa Ride

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Vespa GTS scooter in autumn landscapeWaking in Autumn Aboard a Vespa Scooter

Notes from a cafe…

Steam rises from a cup of hot tea. A beam of sunlight warms cold hands and drives away demons of misgiving and doubt that appear with the changing of the season. The view of the mountain against a blue sky reveals the slow descent of changing leaves crawling down toward the valley.

All signals of the physical and spiritual tremor of autumn.

Riding changes in autumn, or perhaps it’s me who changes. The same eyes see a different road. The body shivers in air approaching the freezing mark. The spirit and mind contend over the choice between scooter and car. The pleasure of riding gives way to the need to ride to palliate the emotional uneasiness that reliably appears during autumn.

The familiar reawakening and recognition of the relentless march of life.

As a young man I could ignore and dismiss the thoughts. Further along they seemed an annoyance, a sign of weakness and fear. Riding through the years I’ve come to appreciate autumn as a revelation. An experience of the world easily concealed in noise and confusion.

On the way to work I parked the Vespa in a field to look at the muted earth tones painted in the low light of a gray morning. A physical quickening of blood flow and motion signals my reaction to riding in air near the freezing mark. There’s no recreation in this ride but rather something more; a gift of being aware of the magic of being alive on the earth regardless of what may be happening.

An autumn Vespa ride exposes the world and allows my mind to run free during moments in the saddle.

It’s a hell of a trip.

The Big Pinch

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Vespa GTS scooter at a medical facilityMedical Vespa

After a week of no riding, I made my way to a Saturday afternoon visit with a local medical facility to have some blood drawn for tests.  I’ll be visiting my cardiologist for the first time since I had my heart attack last year.  Only makes sense to see how the red stuff is doing in response to changes in living.  Diet – check.  Exercise — check.  Stress reduction — check.  Sleep.  Well, sort of check.

Haven’t ridden since that little jaunt.  Back is still stiff and there’s enough sudden weakness that leaving the Vespa in the garage makes sense.

The only thing noteworthy about the trip was the big pinch.  Sitting in a chair in the lab the phlebotomist had my arm tied off with a piece of rubber tubing, wiping throbbing veins as she scrubbed skin with alcohol, all part of a familiar drill.  And then, as she focused her gaze on the vein she says, “Big pinch”.

Big pinch?  What?  My mind races immediately wondering what is about to happen.  Every other time I’ve had blood drawn they say “Little pinch”.  Little.  As in small, insignificant.

Little pinch.  Not big pinch.

As my mind is racing I see the blood filling glass tubes.  Wait.  What?  That’s no pinch.  Didn”t feel a thing.

After a short interrogation she tells me she doesn’t like to disappoint anyone so she crys, “Big pinch!”.  No one is disappointed when there’s no pinch.

The highlight of my riding week…