Scooter in the Sticks

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

Drifting Through Fog

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Vespa GTS scooter on fog shrouded forest roacForest Magic

The dogs begin stirring before dawn, when they hear the birds come to life in the garden.  I play dead to delay getting up to take them outside.  Except when there’s fog.

I was drifting through the fog with plans to ride somewhere for breakfast.  To manage the risk and lack of visibility, I choose the roads less traveled.  Secondary roads.  Forest roads.  Paths.  You can spend more time entertaining your imagination on those roads.

And with fog, the world transforms itself into myth and legend.  And the early part of my trip had a little forest magic too.

Vespa GTS scooter in the fogSilent Landscape

There’s an uncanny stillness to a forest in fog. It can be a lovely escape from the noise of the world or swollen with anxiety over some unseen danger.  Today I was somewhere in the middle.  I tend to trust my gut with riding related choices and that little voice was whispering to turn around.

I had planned to ride along the ridge, head east over the mountain and then south toward breakfast in the next county.

Vespa GTS scooter on foggy gravel roadRetreating from Gravel

My route would require 20 miles of gravel roads, something I would normally not think twice about.  But my new Heidenau tires don’t like gravel.  With the scooter moving around in even the lightest stones at 15mph it would be more of a grind than I wanted to take.

The Vespa is not a dirt bike.  With the right tires it could easily move at 40mph.  But uncertain traction and a diminished view of the road surface seemed a poor mix.

Yellow lines on foggy road with Vespa GTS scooterEternity in Every Moment

On a foggy day the road can seem as if it goes on forever.  I’ve learned that every moment counts on a ride.  For safety and as opportunities of discovery.  Maybe that’s why I don’t pass up opportunities to ride in the fog.

Encountering Harley Davidson Motorcycles

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Vespa GTS encountering a line of Harleys in Boalsburg, PennsylvaniaBaby Boomers

I read a story recently about the problems facing Harley Davidson — an aging customer base with dim prospects for replacements.  Same for all the big manufacturers.  While we aging riders with money (or credit worthiness) continue to support our brands, there are fewer young people interested in riding or have the disposable income to spend on a motorcycle.

All this came back to me on Friday night when I ran down to Duffy’s Tavern in Boalsburg, Pennsylvania to pick up dinner and found a queue of Harleys lined up out front.

Looking at the assembled machinery I could only tell one thing for sure — there were a bunch of old folks around.

Managed to grab dinner and scoot away before detection.

An Experience of the Senses

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Why do I ride? To feel alive.

Vespa GTS scooter in Bald Eagle State Forest

An Experience of the Senses

Reading reviews of new motorcycles and scooters I often feel the writers are missing the point as they focus on machinery, specifications and performance metrics, reducing riding to a quantitative assessment of engineering. Perhaps marketing research and reader testing has revealed that’s what most people want.

Or need.

Making a decision on what two-wheeled machine to purchase is serious and personal. We may end up looking alike on the road in the way we dress and act, but for a moment, we are unique.

Riding through Bald Eagle State Forest last week I was reminded that the machine often fades away as I’m overtaken by human biology and an experience of the senses.

clouds in the sky

Weather Drama

There’s almost always a thrill at the beginning of a ride. In part the anticipation of unexpected experience is at work, but a larger measure the thrill of the senses being engaged in ways largely overlooked during everyday life. At least by me.

It starts early when I walk outside to feel the air on my skin as I decide exactly what I’m going to wear. Or the the cold chrome seat rail against my hand as I push the Vespa into the driveway. Feet buzzing in heavy leather boots and the warmth of the sun on my face as I adjust my helmet.

As the ride approaches the senses spin up in a celebration of being alive.

Vespa GTS scooter on a rural roadThe Scent of Hay and Road Apples

Riding through Amish country provided an array of warm weather fragrances — the scent of fresh cut Timothy hay and the aroma of horse manure from the horse drawn buggies and carriages seen in this part of the county.

As always, I’m struck by how much I miss hurtling down the road in the van with windows closed and the air conditioner removing most references to the outside world.

Vespa GTS scooter with conflicting road signs

Sensory Challenges

Riding presents an ongoing challenge to mind as the brain works to process sensory input from the body. Decisions are made at an ongoing and withering pace in hopes of remaining smiling and safe on the road.

The two signs, placed at the apex of a hairpin turn presented a visual question mark, my brain seeking to process the sensory data from my eyes. It only took an instant but in that moment I made a decision to stop, look and make a photograph.

Vespa GTS scooter along road in Bald Eagle State Forest

Riding as Spiritual Experience

Moving slowly through Bald Eagle State Forest was like meditation.

The visual changes in light, the vibrations of the road felt in the hands, a passing scent of wildflower or damp leaves in a cool glen, all of these things are part of an ongoing, sustainable orgasm of sensory experience that makes riding more than recreation, expand beyond transportation to something akin to a vital spiritual experience.

A pilot described the first time he could sense the curvature of the earth as a spiritual experience.

So it can be with riding.

Vespa GTS scooter along a small stream
Water of Life

It’s hard not to notice the blessing of fresh water in central Pennsylvania. Almost everywhere I ride there are streams, creeks and rivers — slivers of sparkling silver reminding of their value in supporting life. As a rider I appreciate the sudden cool air on a hot day when the Vespa passes under the canopy of trees along the water.

Vespa GTS scooter along a narrow forest trail
All Terrain Vespa

Even on a clear day the forest can be dark. Riding along the smaller trails in the forest can make a rider think the sun has abandoned the day. I think of the first European settlers moving through these vast forests going days and weeks with barely a glimpse of the sky. The lack of light plays with the mind and for me can create ideas and images of the fantastic. The Vespa scooter continues on in the dark.

There are elves in this wood.

Vespa GTS scooter with powerlines
On Into Civilization

Eventually I emerged from the forest for food and fuel and wandered awhile along the Susquehanna River between Williamsport and Lock Haven. Riding in more developed areas provides a different experience of sight, sound and smell. Power lines were everywhere as were fumes from the exhaust of trucks or the strong smell of creosote from freshly laid railroad ties.

Vespa GTS scooter and railroad tracksChasing Railroads

Railroads are fascinating creatures whose tentacles stretch across the nation. In another life I might have made a choice to work for one. Or become a railfan chasing trains across the country with camera in hand. Whenever I can during a ride I stop to admire the view and dream of times gone by.

Still an hour from home on a direct route and my phone indicating rain on the way I shifted from wanderer to express rider in hopes of avoiding some of the rain. Ended up riding through two short downpours that were heavy enough to cause me to consider putting on the rain suit.

As the ride drew to a close I saw the world change from bright to dark, the wind and rain transform cozy to cool and the new smells of of wet pavement and moist air join me until I got home — another experience of the senses.

Vespa on the Road to Memory

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For anyone who rides a scooter or motorcycle there’s probably nothing here you don’t already know.  So turn off the computer, get up, and go for a ride.  But if you’re new to the riding life, or in that luscious world of dreams and fantasy filled with two-wheeled lies and adventure, then maybe you might want to read on.

Vespa GTS scooter along freeway with Allegheny Plateau in the distanceOh, baby, baby, it’s a wild world

Tucked and harnessed safely in an automobile, or warm and cozy at home on the couch with the television on, the world is absolutely under control, predictable and at my back and call.  I am master of my universe.

And it’s all a lie.  Slowly the rules creep in, those quiet expectations of shiny floors, freshly painted walls, lush green lawns and polite behavior. And one morning, quiet without a care in the world, you’ll realize you’re enslaved to things you never agreed to.

There are no absolutes in life save death.  And this scene may blessedly never visit upon you.  For me, as I learned to wake up and pay attention, things didn’t always make sense. The pressure to stay asleep is strong and I need help.  A spouse light years ahead of me on this path is a gift.  The camera helps me pay attention.  A pen and journal demands thought.  Writing on Scooter in the Sticks allows me to abandon silence and to give testimony that there are other paths.

Options.  Choices.

What does this have to do with riding a Vespa?  

Last weekend I was on the road to nowhere, standing along Interstate 99 wondering where I was going and feeling a bit anxious at the uncertainty.  And then, alone for a moment with no rules or expectations I realized what a servant I am to the machinations of the world.  What does this have to do with riding a Vespa?  It provides a platform to escape, if only for a moment, and question everything you believe to be true.

At least for me.  It’s the gift that matters when I think about riding — scooter or motorcycle.  Fun, recreation, relaxation, friendship, adventure — they’re just minor side effects of a bigger experience.

I won’t forget this day.

Vespa GTS scooter along the freewayHow fast does that Vespa scooter go?

Seventy-five miles per hour.  All day long if necessary.  Fast enough for anywhere in America.

South on Interstate 99.  I knew that much.  My brain was scrambling for order.  Go home.  Ride to Virginia.  Visit the in-laws in Altoona.  The cacophony of ideas in my head was breathtaking.  I stopped so I wouldn’t hurt myself from inattention to the road and not any desire to photograph the scooter along the freeway.  It took five minutes of cerebral discord before I felt comfortable riding on.

This never happens in the car.  I’m certain the military-industrial complex under direction of the Trilateral Commission has probably impregnated the cabins with chemicals to suppress thought and ensure a compliant world.

There is no such effect riding a scooter or motorcycle.

Memorial Day in Tyrone, PennsylvaniaMemorial Day in Tyrone, Pennsylvania

Hunger brought me to Tyrone as I left home without breakfast.  The local fire company was raising the red, white and blue in preparation of a parade.  After a momentary pause I left town and the gathering crowd for something more quiet.

Unless you’re a daily commuter or use your scooter or motorcycle for chores, when you get on you will only take with you the demands you place on yourself.  Riding offers choices.Spo

Vespa GTS scooter under a railroad bridgeSpot of Shade

By 10am it was already hot and found me searching for shade more than destination.  Any earlier anxiety regarding the ride was gone now as I fell in step with the rhythm of exploration, choosing the roads and paths that remain invisible from the task oriented automobile.

“I wonder where that goes?” my motto for the day, I believe I could ride forever.

Railroad bridge over LIttle Juniata RiverLittle Juniata River

I’ve always wanted to walk across this bridge and think about it every time I ride by.  That thought never happened once in the car.  All I think about passing through here is getting home.  Point A to point B.

Maybe if I had a Ferrari it would be different.  My friend Paul has a Ferrari.  He seldom takes it out on the road so my guess is it would make no difference.

Vespa scooter along railroad tracksMain Line

Parked at a private crossing of the main railroad line between Philadelphia and Pittsburgh and points west.  It’s down to two tracks now, a sad testament to short-sighted vision of leaders in this country.  I waited for awhile in hopes that a train would pass, thought of putting a penny on the track one last time, but after fifteen minutes the heat pushed me on my way.

Riding a Vespa has revealed an endless opportunity for experience — ones more in line with magical discoveries from childhood than those available to “adults”.

Have you ever put a penny on a railroad track?

Vespa GTS scooter on a winding country roadCountry roads take me home

There’s a spider network of country roads in central Pennsylvania that meander under the trees and along creeks that makes riding almost a guilty pleasure.  It surprises me though how few motorcycles I ever see on these secondary to secondary roads.  Could it be that riders prefer traveling at 55mph and above over the arcadian pleasures on these little roads?

While writing this post (at the Pump Station) a large cadre of motorcycles roared by.  They had either been on PA 45 or US322, both a bore in my opinion for riding a motorcycle.  But you can go fast.  I suppose that counts for something.

Vespa along a highwayThe road goes on forever

I know it doesn’t go forever but what a fantasy.  I have my fingers crossed for a lot more time wandering the world on two-wheels.  The accumulated memories will fuel the days when the scooter no longer leaves the garage.  Riding a Vespa scooter has taught me a lot about myself and life.  But perhaps the most important lesson it it’s ability to generate meaningful memories.  And with no need to engage a transcontinental trip to do it.

I’ll admit to a level of advantage due to location…

Vespa on gravel roadWhat’s a ride without a little gravel

Seems I’m never far from the unpaved road.  I remember the first time I rode my Vespa LX150 in gravel — not the most comforting feeling, especially in the loose stuff.  Over time, with experience, both comfort level and velocity increased.  With so many unpaved roads in Pennsylvania it just seems a shame not to take advantage of their secrets.

Vespa parked in the woods along a streamBrunch with a Vespa scooter

Hunger finally got the best of me and I stopped to eat the sandwich I’d picked up earlier in the day.  Nothing like eating in the shade of hemlocks to the rippling sounds of a creek.  As I write this I continue to wonder at the hundreds of thousands of miles I’ve clocked in an automobile and have no memory of ever doing this.

Have I wasted my life in the cage?

Experienced riders know the answer.  If you’re new or dreaming, you’ll have to work out the answer yourself.  No one can answer for you.

It’s all part of the ride — questioning, experience, memories and more.

Don’t wait.

The Curious Nature of Choice

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Vespa GTS250 scooter in Penns Valley

The Devil Made Me Do It

I believe in free will. I imagine living by a system of beliefs and being free to make choices that propel me along a path of my own making. There can be no doubt that I make choices. But more and more, I question the freedom in making them.

Yesterday morning the weather app on my phone suggested rain, perhaps heavy, late in the morning. After considering the evidence I made the choice to mount the Vespa scooter and head east across Penns Valley.

Just to ride, look and be alone. My choice.

The desire to ride is strong. Some might suggest an obsession. Creative colleagues describe passion and drive. I wonder if the mental and physical longing to be on the road is really an imperious engine that robs me of choice?

“The devil made me do it.”

Vespa GTS scooter along rural road

Traveling East

Spring is in full flush. Beyond the visual evidence of plants coming alive everywhere there are the heady fragrances of spring — honeysuckle and dogwood, lilacs, and the smell of fresh cut grass is everywhere as I meander along roads almost familiar after haunting them for over 40 years.

There is no better mechanicial partner for me than the Vespa.

Inevitably my mind wanders from the road toward slow, swaying waves of thought triggered my things I see and feel. There is no choice — they just arrive.

Not far from home I passed a housing development where I once made photographs of buckwheat fields and combines gathering a harvest. Now it’s a collection of “estates” with garage complexes easily twice the size of my house. And lawns of three, five and ten acres — lush, green, weedless, mown and tended with precision. Natural deserts not fit for insect or animal.

Are these places the result of freely made choices? In the land of individual freedom and self determination the answer is “yes”! But I wonder.

Vespa GTS scooter on rural road

The Road Goes on Forever

Over and over I’m brought face-to-face with visual metaphors for the unknown ahead. What is over that rise? Where will I be this afternoon? Or next year? The Vespa is my faithful pony, traveling with me into a future full of dreams and nightmares, hopes and fears, thrills and boredom, all part of a mix that makes life drip with possibility.

And choices.

But what about those sweeping lawns and homes. Are they really a result of freely made choices or have them been poisoned by culture and the human need to conform to unwritten rules and expectations? And who created them?

Choices. And choices colored by industry and marketing burrowing into our subconscious to somehow make us feel less should our lawns attract birds or our homes not reflect our power.

Riding alone — it can be a harsh taskmaster and leave me questioning what I believe. Or commit time to.

I don’t blame the scooter though. It’s an unblinking, blunt companion always reminding me to stay awake.

Vespa GTS scooter near Woodward, Pennsylvania

Love Life

There are times when I can stand in a place and feel like crying. The landscape shouts “remember when” and I feel the pain of choices made and not made. Time has swept it all away and for a moment I believe all things are new.

In church I listen to forgiveness and redemption. On some days I have faith. But on many others I long to be like other riders I talk with who seem to live without question or care, racing along consuming experience with smiles and a hedonistic pleasure I cant’ quite imagine. It’s not a choice I am free to make.

Vespa GTS scooter

Investing in the Spirit

The scooter is running remarkably well since it’s recent encounter with the Vespa technician. In a few days I’ll celebrate a year of life since my heart attack. But both of us could die tomorrow for myriad reasons.

I feel blessed, no, I feel lucky that I’ve ended up where I am in this place. It’s not a result of careful planning or choice — just dumb luck like the blind squirrel finding an acorn.

Riding along Penns Creek I saw a small herd of deer splashing across the water — a scene I’ve often hoped to photograph. But a short wait revealed no more actors for my play and I moved on.

Riding creates a tapestry of experience. But more important it opens the door for questioning them — an investment in the spirit of life.

Vespa GTS scooter

Small Scooter in a Big World

In a place where four wheel drive pick-up trucks, sport utility vehicles and powerful luxury sedans seem to be ubiquitous my choice of riding a Vespa scooter seems strangely out of place. Like the horse drawn Amish buggies common in the area. Aside from opportunity measured in available time, there is nothing that would limit me from riding across the continent on the scooter. And of course, the subconscious drivers that push riders toward big. Like those trucks and SUVs.

My choice to ride the Vespa is made with my own boatload of subconscious laws and rules.

I wasn’t exactly sure where I was when I made this picture looking south toward Ravens Knob. Wasn’t lost, just couldn’t pinpoint myself on a mental map. I make a choice to travel without a GPS device or even a map. What little adventure is left in the East is largely destroyed by the digital caretaking of a Garman or similar device.

For me, it feels good to seem lost and confused. A choice.

Vespa GTS scooter in the rain

Into Every Life…

Rain. I knew it was coming yet I made a choice to ride telling myself that I would be home before it arrived.

Arrived in Millheim for breakfast at the Inglebean Coffee House and found the place delightfully empty. A continuation of the solitude of the road. As breakfast arrived so did friends, effectively dashing time with my journal.

I made a choice to have a conversation.  It is after all, the polite thing to do.  But I left wondering still about the nature of choice.  Mostly I was wishing I could put it all out of my head.

And then the rain came presenting opportunities for making choices — waiting out the passing rain showers, or donning my Rev’IT rain suit that I’ve been carrying around for two years without using.

I kept riding and put on the suit.

Maybe the important thing about choice is to make them to keep moving forward.