Vespa repairs complete
Back on the road. Cold ride home this evening. Scooter purrs quietly and smooth as butter with a new clutch and drive assembly. The Heidenau K61 tires are sweet.
Time for a long ride…
Exploring life on a Vespa Scooter and Royal Enfield Himalayan motorcycle.
With spring comes gently unfolding days. Vespa riding at dawn in not only pleasant but there is ample time for a few miles before work — a meandering route to take in the countryside and absorb a bit more sunlight before closeting myself indoors.
I made this photograph almost nine years ago. The ride is etched in my brain along with many others — some long and involved and other short.
That’s the sweet part of riding. As Nike advised, “Just do it”.
Aside from “How many miles per gallon do you get?” and “How fast will that thing go?”, the most common discussion I have concerning the Vespa focuses on a belief that it’s great in town but you need something different for “the road”. It’s not hard to imagine the origins of this belief, at least in the United States, since almost all the marketing and promotion of scooters focuses on it’s utility in the city and frugal consumption of fuel. The marketing agencies probably recognize the equally well ensconced belief of American riders that you need a liter sized engine or larger if you plan to do any serious riding. Like riding 50 whole miles to breakfast with like minded bikers.
The reality is you can ride a scooter practically anywhere other than through deep water. The Vespa GTS 250 scooter I own will cruise all day at 70 – 75mph on the freeway (shoot me if I regularly choose that route). And on all other roads it is just fine. All day long.
So if you think a scooter is only good for running down the street to pick up groceries (which it is) think again — men and women criss-cross the continent on scooters.
I made the above photograph after descending off the Allegheny Front and heading home on a road crossing Bald Eagle Ridge. The Vespa didn’t blink being away from town. It will rip along at any legal (and some illegal) speeds making it a fine companion for anything from a Ducati to a Harley.
I’ve ridden my Vespa to a lot of places in Pennsylvania. It’s a great sightseeing machine that will take me and my gear (including food and water) anywhere I want to be. Even if it’s a muddy field that I need to traverse to photograph a tree.
Whenever I start to think about longer scooter rides I always think about two riders who have pushed the scooter envelope:
Mike Saunders and his transcontinental scooter expedition on a 50cc Honda Ruckus
Mike Hermens and his trip across America and back on a Vespa GTS 300
Both these fellows, and a lot of other riders, have done big rides on their scooters and saw the world in the process.
This picture was made near the village of Rock Spring. Turning off PA Route 45 I was surprised how watersoaked the field was. Luckily the turf was thick and I didn’t have to content with the mud below.
While my Vespa GTS scooter is not a dirt bike it’s fine for wandering along the thousands of miles of dirt and gravel roads in Pennsylvania. Don’t plan to jump or ride over logs or expect a soft ride when the road surface gets rough — the suspension was designed for pavement and reminds of that fact when you hit a rock or pothole unexpectedly. More aggressive tires adds more stability and feel, especially in loose gravel. If you go this route keep one thing in mind — it’s hard on the cosmetic appearance of the scooter. Lots of scooter riders, particularly Vespa riders, keep their machines glistening in every detail. Riding off the pavement will challenge that goal.
I made this photo on a road I had missed for years. I passed the turnoff many times but a new township road sign caught my eye. I must have thought it a private road in the past. The township should have added “Dead End” to the sign post. After wandering for some miles through the woods and up the side of the mountain I came to the end of the road — a big dog standing in my path probably saying in a canine thought wave, “MY property starts here.”
Luckily for me he was friendly and was content to watch me turn around and head back down the mountain.
There are moments and places that reveal themselves during a ride that cry out, “Stop, look and listen!”. I’ve encountered them many times and have learned to heed that call. The words are loudest when I’m alone and traveling slowly, the landscape more a still life than a movie, and there’s time to hear the voice and stop. Had I been racing along at 60mph I would be cresting the hill before I understood what was happening and unlikely to make a decision to turn around to see what just happened.
In this case I found a hardwood remnant from an agricultural past — those lone trees left in a field to park a team of horses in the shade when the farmer had lunch. With air conditioned cabs and working draft horses relegated mostly to Amish and Mennonite communities those trees are confusing icons to more modern visitors. One thing I hadn’t counted on when I turned off the road — the tree capturing my attention — is the field had been heavily dressed with cow manure and the recent rain had left an inch of semi-liquid manure covering the ground. Once you’re in it though what can you do. Riding up the road I let the bottoms of my boots drag along the pavement to scrape as much manure away as I could. Maybe tomorrow I’ll wash the scooter…
Some places have bad energy and unfortunately the scooter has no warning system that signals their approach. On a rare occasion I stumble into a place that feels haunted by something dark. After wandering along a narrow path through the woods I found myself beneath a railroad bridge still used by Amtrak and whatever commercial traffic crisscrosses Pennsylvania.
But something wasn’t right here. I could feel it in my bones and a little voice was telling me I don’t belong here. I made a few quick pictures but could not stop looking over my shoulder wondering when something would appear from the woods. I heard no banjo music. The Vespa scooter started and I left this place behind.
A scooter gets you off the wheel and onto the road, away from the chains of responsible living and to places where you can make choices based, for once, on what you want. Seems a rare occurrence. Never happens in the car but time and time again I find myself standing in the middle of the road wondering which way I’ll go.
I wandered this intersection for about five minutes before getting on the scooter and turning around and heading down the road to the right. When I got to this point I was planning to head straight. Mental calculations told me the right=hand route was longer and would provide more riding time.
Just a few of the things you should know about scooters — Vespa or otherwise. They’re not just good for town. They’re good for the soul…
A ride can begin without goal or expectation — just a twist of the throttle and touch of the bar fueled by desire for movement and motion, a flash of vision as the landscape sweeps by. And before long you’re miles from home.
Sunday morning began in uncertainty for I wasn’t sure if I wanted to ride, walk with my camera or just go to church. There are days when I feel restless yet unfocused, at least regarding a plan of action. At sunrise I was in the garden with the dogs making photographs between requests to heave a tennis ball and recognitions of glowing portions of our naturalized landscape.
Photography is a compulsion, a condition I recognize requires periodic purging lest I become irritated by visual overstimulation. It’s as if my eyes collect more information than my brain can manage and the camera serves as a tool too download and provide space to function. I’ve taken part in group photo sessions where a number of camera wielders in a single location all work to “photograph” the place and later share what they saw. Seeing that work gives you an idea of how differently people see the world.
I suffer by the visual.
The Vespa scooter and I traveled south down the valley toward Spruce Creek along winding roads and farm paths. The combination of light and sky, field and road agitated the eye and led to a growing ride fueled by desire to see and experience nothing in particular, everything in general. What started as no ride at all quickly turned into something I had to force to an end due to time and other commitments.
Deja vu — standing on the gravel road looking off toward the lone tree; I’ve been here many times to make a photograph of the tree from this same perspective. I have a contact print in my office of a view made with an 8×10 Zone VI camera. And probably a dozen images of a Vespa or motorcycle including an early one made during an Altoona trek on the LX150.
By the time I arrived at this place near Seven Stars, Pennsylvania I had stopped a dozen times to make photographs and was in a rhythm that I can’t call riding or photography — just a ritual dance with camera and scooter. It moves in fits and starts. It’s fueled by desire for recognition, understanding and something I can’t define.
The “ride” a private experience and responsible for my reluctance to ride with others — in part embarrassed to put my compulsive behavior on display, but mostly because I’ll grow annoyed finding anyone in the way of eye and camera, scooter and road.
I made about seventy photographs during the ride and have been sifting through the experience, making notes, looking at the pictures, wondering what it was all about. Perhaps something will come of it worth sharing.
For now, just a single image made with my iPhone and processed with Google’s Snapseed app. A Vespa on a gravel farm road under a sky of drama.
Just the way I like it.
Just purchased a Gerbing Single Temperature Controller for my Gerbing electric gloves. After a burn on my hand from direct power it was a necessary change. The reason was simple — in past years I wore the gloves without any wind protection. In cold weather the wind would render the gloves ineffective at below freezing temperatures so burns seemed an impossibility to me. Looking back a a post from 2008 — 18º F and Gerbing Electric Gloves — it seems I need to make a modification to Lesson One:
LESSON ONE: The gloves aren’t going to burn you. (They can burn if your hands are shielded from the wind) I don’t know where someone would get the idea that you could burn yourself with these gloves. At 32° F the elements are supposed to heat to 130° F. And the elements are insulated from directed contact with skin so no burning is going to take place. Using them at 18 ° at 50 MPH you can barely tell they are heating. At sub-freezing temperatures I don’t want a thermostat, I want full power.
With the Tucano Urbano mitts shielding the wind the gloves get hot and will burn. In that case I don’t always want full power. I do want the controller. Riding today at 35F I had them set to about 1/4 power and my hands were toasty. It’s late in the winter riding season so I don’t know how much experimenting with low temperatures I’ll have but I’m ready for next winter.
Now on to some Vespa maintenance — oil and filter change to start.