Scooter in the Sticks

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

Snow Day

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Snow covered car in snowy drivewayWorst Snow Storm of the Season = Snow Day

Years ago, this amount of snow, eight inches or so, would not raise an eyebrow or concern.  Life would continue on.  The school buses might run a little behind schedule but otherwise it would just be a regular day with snow added to the mix. When I looked out the front door I was greeted by this scene.

Between the weather media and the government the fragrance of disaster and emergency fill the minds of anyone who listens.  The schools were closed.  Activities at Penn State were cancelled.  The coffee shop down the street was closed.  But the roads were mostly clear.  I could have taken the Vespa out for a ride by noon.

But this was the worst snow storm of the season.  We had a snow day.Continue Reading

End of Winter Riding

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Man's shadow on a plowed farm fieldSeeing My Shadow

On Wednesday morning the sky was clear and the air warmed quickly from a 27 degree start.  The brilliant sunrise painted a crisp shadow on the farm field along the road where I parked my Vespa scooter.  By noon the temperature was in the fifties and my delusion of spring strengthened.  Two days later, right now, just after midnight, the temperature is plunging into the teens with a brisk wind.

Spring has deserted me.  As with the groundhog who sees his shadow, more winter is coming. And more winter riding.

Vespa GTS scooter at sunriseWarm Weather Fantasy

My well-worn Vespa GTS scooter still glistens in the early morning light. At this time of year I often stand in beams of sunlight on my face, absorbing heat, believing my body is generating Vitamin D and putting me in synch with the natural rhythm of the world.

This stop, just three miles from home, has provided many opportunities to worship the sun.

Vespa GTS scooter along rural roadBig Sky Country

This is about as big as the sky gets.  Nothing compared to the Midwest or West.  Aside from views from hilltops, you never really get a sense of the larger horizon.  At times it’s a claustrophobic world.

The scooter doesn’t care and I don’t either.  I am happy to ride whenever I can and look forward to warmer weather.  Right now, I have little hope of riding in the morning.  The dogs don’t want to go out.  I probably won’t either…

Thoughts on Church

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Vespa LX150 in front of old rural churchThose Places

Central Pennsylvania is dotted with churches.  Some dating back to the arrival of the first white settlers. Others are modern facilities complete with media installations to support an array of electronic age preaching. I see the buildings while I ride and am curious about the people and services that take place inside.

I’ve had a long history of interest in churches as examples of architecture and culture.  As a child, my mother dragged me into every church in Bavaria and beyond.  The human history in those places made a lasting impression. The nature of religion and faith were only words, but they played a part in the history I was learning.

Religion was problematic for me. I recognized early the adult hypocrisy reflected in the personal politics of the congregational leadership.  Hearts and minds.  When I left for college, my religious education had pushed me toward agnosticism but ending up a dissenter. There was a mistrust of the people behind the words heard in the church.

Vespa scooter in front of the Sinking Valley Presbyterian ChurchGod is Still Speaking

While four decades passed looking at churches from the outside. While I held a belief that a Prime Mover existed, distrust of the establishment running the church continued. Perhaps the best reflection of my own feelings of church and God were found, accidentally, in James Fenimore Cooper’s Leatherstocking Tales which begin with The Deerslayer.  The protagonist, Natty Bumpo, reflected an awe of nature that he roughly equated with God.

Vespa GTS along a forest roadChurch in the Forest

God, religion, faith — all personal choices and explorations that provide meaning or solace that may make sense for me yet be utterly incomprehensible to another.  Riding through quiet places, finding solitude, and being alone with my thoughts is where I find God. For a very long time I could not bring myself to apply that label for reasons stretching back to my teenage experiences in church. Time and experience has revealed the presence of some higher power that I can rely on.  I don’t try to explain it or justify it to others.  I require no proof or scientific evidence or argument beyond my own senses.

Zion Lutheran Church in Boalsburg, PennsylvaniaWalking Through the Door

A little over a year ago a reader suggested I consider attending a service at a church just down the street from my home.  I had been considering attending a Christmas Eve service — motivated primarily by nostalgia and the desire to remember times I spent with my mother and father.

The church, and it’s services, are surprisingly familiar.  The spoken words, the rituals, it’s as if nothing has changed in 45 years.  Except me.  And I’ve sensed none of the congregational intrigue that I witnessed as a child.  There’s a genuine feeling of caring and fellowship.  But still I’m guarded.

My natural uneasiness with groups of people is in play and always leaves me feeling an outsider.  I prefer to be alone.  More than one other person is a crowd.  And a congregation, well, it remains a challenge.

I consider church, and faith, an ongoing personal journey.

2017 Brave, Bold Blogger Challenge

This post is part of a month long writing prompt challenge conceived by Kathy at Toadmama.com.

Riding is the Spice of Life

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Vespa GTS scooter along US Route 6 in Potter CountyEmbracing the Senses

Many neurologists believe there are 21 senses, not just the five we learn in school – touch, taste, vision, hearing and smell.  Riding a scooter or motorcycle embraces the five and I expect a great many on the longer list.  On a beautiful summer day riding along US Route 6 fires the nerves and ignites the brain.  Riding is the spice of life, the additive to a day that makes life a feast.

measuring spoonSpiceless

Thoughts of spices for many raise ideas of food and culinary adventure.  In the kitchen this evening I thought about the spice that has the most influence on my life and a way to reduce it to a photograph.  I come up empty with spices unless, perhaps, I should have filled the red spoon with salt.

Instead I moved past food and on to the Vespa.  Riding is the spice of life.  In this life at least.

BMW F800 GS motorcycleMotorcycle or Scooter

Makes little difference what you ride — any machine adds spice to existence.  Looking through my photos I came across this one of a BMW F800 GS motorcycle made during a ride some years ago. I still remember the route through the forested hills south of home and the open stretches of highway to the west — that motorcycle spiriting me away physically and emotionally in an experience that lives today.

That’s spice.  That’s what riding is about for me.

A few days ago I read something about arriving at the end of life and not regretting that I didn’t go to one more meeting at work.  I understand what that means.  At the last breath I imagine I’ll be thinking of spices — one last embrace of my wife, a smile from my kids, a look from the dogs.

And one more ride.