Scooter in the Sticks

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

Church Riders

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Keith Diehl and his red Vespa GTS scooterSunday Ride

I don’t expect to see another scooter or motorcycle at church but it was nice to see another Vespa GTS this morning.  Keith is filling in for the regular organist this week and rode his bright red Vespa GTS 300 to Boalsburg.  With the sky blue and temperature rising it the bright red scoot was like a spring flower.

Church riders.  Perhaps there are more.

The thermometer should approach 60F this afternoon — with a breeze it should help dry out the muddy yard and keep the dogs relatively clean.  Wish I could take advantage of the break in the weather and take a long lazy ride but duty and responsibility beckon.

I should be caught up in about two years.

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.

Nature of Friendship

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two men looking at photographic printsPhotography Bonds

My friends Gordon and Paul at Saint’s Cafe looking a photographs — one of the common bonds among us.  Paul I met at a large format photography workshop he was teaching over 20 years ago, and Gordon in the MFA program at the School of Visual Arts at Penn State nearly 10 years later.

I call them both friends.

Photography has driven connections between us and created conversation and travel to serve our collective camera masters.  It’s a powerful enslavement that has been with each of us for a lifetime.

And both are riders.

Gordon Harkins on Vespa 300Riders All

Gordon pilots a red Vespa GTS 300.  I’ve suggested he could assume a role on Sons of Anarchy but would have to abandon the scooter.  So far he’s shown no interest.

Paul Ruby leaping at the sight of a Vespa scooterPaul is a more eclectic rider and at home with a Vespa or a Harley and everything in between.  During rides I often have the opportunity to photograph one of his spur of the moment performances.  I often wonder at what age a broken bone will occur.

Gordon Harkins and his Vespa GTS scooterDefinition of Friendship

If I can call you at 3am and say “help!”, then you must be a friend.  Having someone in your life that you know will be there when you need them, no questions asked, is a gift beyond treasure.  I believe it’s a rare connection.

It’s not something we talk about or make an agreement about — I sense it.  I hope the others do as well.

Paul Ruby with a yellow Ducati motorcycleViews Through the Looking Glass

I’ve collected a number of pictures from our times together.  Paul always has a new motorcycle love — this one several machines ago — a bright yellow Ducati 1098.

Gordon Harkins with his Vespa scooterGordon rides only his Vespa scooter.  Not other machine has materialized in his garage.  At least as far as I know.

Steve Williams and Gordon Harkins with their Vespa scootersIt’s good to have friends who ride.  They understand the obsession, the desire to get away on two wheels, the phone calls requesting a truck and pick-up at at remote location.  This photo was made during a ride through Moshannon State Forest.  Red may be the fastest color in Vespa mythology but the silver scooter is by far the more beautiful…

Paul Ruby exercisingThis has become a familiar scene while riding with Paul — his back stretching exercise which appears in a variety of locations — on the road, on the side of the road, on a motorcycle, on a scooter — he’s an equal opportunity stretcher.

Gordon Harkins and Paul Ruby discussing cameras

A person is fortunate to go through life with a couple friends — especially ones with so much in common.

I’m a lucky man.

 

Cold Morning Vespa Ride

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Vespa GTS scooter in snow on frigid morningFooled by Sunshine

After carefully checking the road in front of the house this morning I decided it was safe to ride — even without the snow tires on the Vespa scooter.  That approach is a decidedly small sampling of the roads in central Pennsylvania so I have to engage a bit of imagination for evaluation of roads not seen along with a look at the weather forecast on my iPhone.  It is, at best, a guess.

The temperature was hovering at 9F with a light wind.  Sunshine has a way of making everything seem ok.  Must be why the eye of a hurricane is so deceptively dangerous.  With sun in my eyes and joy in my heart off I went for a Saturday morning Vespa ride.

Vespa GTS scooter along winter roadCold Hands

My hands have always been the weak link in my winter riding dreams.  They chill quickly despite neoprene guards on the heated grips.  If I was just riding and not always stopping to make photographs the problem would be reduced significantly.  But I’m driven by the camera, or my eyes, or both and hands be damned.  It only takes a few minutes of handling a cold camera for my fingers to start to scream, “Hey Bozo, remember, we all had frostbite!”.

And my cardiologist warned I would not tolerate cold as well.  He’s right.  Seems my old limit somewhere below zero has moved up to around 20F.  Just five miles from home I could sense the cold creeping through my body.  More layers may have helped — I wasn’t at my full gear level — but I think the really cold riding might be in danger.

Vespa GTS scooter on snowy roadVespa Winter Performance

Even without the winter tires the scooter performed well on the constantly changing road surface from bare to snow covered to something in between.  Speed is reduced to allow extra time and space to negotiate the unexpected but this morning the extreme cold provided more traction than there would have been twenty degrees warmer.

The engine has always purred like a kitten in the cold and despite my irrational fear that it won’t start when I’m miles from home it jumped to life each time I pressed the starter.

After less than an hour on the road I pushed the scooter back into the garage and moved on to plan B.  The dogs were happy to see me home so soon.  They’re far more cold tolerant than I am.  You won’t find me lying on the deck licking my bare feet or rolling around in the snow just because it’s there.

I’m a reserved Vespa scooter rider.

The Best Things in Life are Free

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The best things in life are free goes the old song. Sleep, laughter, love, friends and good memories — examples of the things money can’t buy.

Vespa GTS scooter on winding road near Hyner ViewGood Memories

Of all my rides and Vespa meanderings, the picture of the scooter on a winding road near Hyner View State Park, not far from Renovo, Pennsylvania, on my way home from a camping trip, shines in my memory.  What surprises me now is how much the planning and anticipation stayed with me — as if it were a riding event all it’s own.

I’ve been turning another event over in my head, a short trip of five and a half hundred miles, to visit my father, departed now for some years.  And like the camping trip, the mental planning and imagining has proved just as exciting.

Perhaps you find satisfaction in the same way?

Vespa GTS scooter display on the road at nightImagining the Ride

I imagine myself on the road before dawn, easing into the dark to extend the riding day to allow for choices of coincidence encountered on the road.  I know how many miles I need to travel on a direct route — 250 miles to my destination.  Miles and miles of winding, at least until I hit the flat grids of Ohio, roads.  But between here and there I’ll be presented with endless opportunities to turn left or right away from the plan.  Depending on the choices I make I could easily ride 600 miles or more before returning home.

Lying in bed with a map before falling asleep fires the nighttime imagination.

Imagination is always assaulted by the demands of reality — there are things I must do which always seem to try and generate a list.  The riding checklist.

tools used for Vespa maintenanceThe Riding Checklist

There’s a lot of things to do before departing on a trip.  The less attractive tasks spin around maintenance, something with which I have a love/hate relationship.  Oil and filter change, spark plug change, hub oil change, air filter change, tire change.  I usually look forward to change.  Hopefully I’ll get the tools out on a lovely day.

I don’t make checklists.  At least not for riding.  Ideas and needs float around in my head and I try and attend to them.  My resistance to organization in regard to riding is a conscious stand against regimentation and the robbery of fun.  Just as I enjoy being lost there is a dark pleasure in finding myself scrambling because I forgot something.  As long as it’s not my wallet I’m in good shape.

The mental checklist:

  • Choice of routes — what general path will I follow?  Are there areas I haven’t been to?
  • Time constraints — how many daylight hours will I have to ride?
  • Stops along the way — any places I want to see or visit?
  • Photography — how complicated am I going to make this.  Please God, remove video from my mind.
  • Clothes
  • Tools
  • Gear

The choice of routes consumes most of my thinking but when I actually get on the road I often follow a remarkably general, unplanned route toward my destination.  There’s a fine measure of serendipity to that sort of travel.

portrait James D. Williams, born in Wellsburg, West VirginaJames D. Williams

My father has been drawing me toward this trip.  I hear his voice from time to time, that familiar “hey boy” when I would answer the phone when he called.  Our talks were usually focused on details of a project lest the conversations lag and end.  This time he wants to talk more. In a few weeks it will be 13 years since he died.  It’s time to pay a visit to his resting place.

I’m seldom superstitious but open to the unknown — a lesson I credit my wife Kim for teaching me.  There are mysteries in life worth exploring, considering.  She’s shown me magic and the shimmering of life. But that’s something for another post.

It’s time for a trip, I’m looking forward to the event and the memories it will nurture.  Once the snow and cold are gone for a few days.

I try to remember, the best things in life are free.