Scooter in the Sticks

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

Frigid Rituals in Life and on a Vespa Scooter

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A Vespa GTS scooter parked on a snow covered field.
Testing the limits of the scooter.

Invisible Power

As if propelled by some magical invisible power I find myself once again staring at my scooter in the snow. A vaguely familiar frigid ritual that often I don’t understand. It’s cold, 16F when this photograph was made, and my mind is relaxed in a manner difficult to access while sitting at home warm and cozy.

I’ve often wondered whether the physical challenge that comes with enduring the cold and managing the enhanced risks of riding below the freezing mark somehow ignites a flame that has no equal in any other aspect of my life.

A frigid ritual of which the rewards far outweigh the risks.

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Chasing the Flurries: A Small Vespa Adventure

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A 2006 Vespa GTS 250 scooter parked in a field as it begins to snow.
The last stop for a photograph before returning home.

Wading Through Weather Decisions

Deciding to ride continuously throughout the year requires some honest looks in the mirror. It’s easy for me to equate what I was able to do 15 years ago with how I am today. And when today means I’m 70 years old I had best be rigorously honest about my riding abilities and limits. I’ve told myself that there will be no more riding in snow and probably no riding below the freezing mark. Seems a reasonable boundary to embrace. So how is it that I found myself riding through a series of snow squalls with the thermometer hovering at 32F? Was it a bad series of assessments based on the weather forecast or did I let my pride and ego get the better of me?

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Can I Love Winter Again?

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Two Belgian Sheepdogs sitting outdoors in a light snowfall.
Lily and Aiden in the first snow of the season.

Facing the Cold

The first snow has arrived.  Light, decorative, a dusting that beckons of winter to come. The past month has offered unseasonably warm weather.  Riding weather for even the cold-adverse riders.  Yet the roads are largely empty of scooters and motorcycles save for those souls committed to continued riding.  Some I suspect have something to prove (except Dan).  Others may be victims of economics that offer no alternative choice of vehicles.

I tell myself I’m done with cold weather riding.  The lure of a warm home and soft chair become a subtle yet powerful addiction.  I surely would find myself powerless if not for two dogs who demand adventure regardless of how I feel or the weather outside.  So slowly I’m becoming more acclimated to the cold.  Day by day, walk by walk I notice a growing strength of resistance to the lowering temperatures.  And from that comes a willingness to leave the warmth of home and venture out on a scooter or motorcycle.

Even in the snow.

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Is It Time to Stop Scooter Riding in Winter?

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Is riding a Vespa in winter only for the young? I wonder…

An April Snow Squall

It’s hard to figure that one day the temperature is 70F and a couple days later it’s snowing again. That’s the kind of April we’ve had.

I went for a ride during the last squall to run a few errands and I was left with the feeling that I’ve had enough winter riding. Perhaps it is age, or a particularly bad day mentally, but whatever was in play had me bemoaning the difficulties of riding in winter.

On this ride it was particularly cold — right around the freezing mark. And the snow wasn’t piling up on the road. But the temperature, moisture, and slush had an effect. The visor was difficult to keep clear and the slush was bad enough that I could feel a wheel slip now and then. I just was tired of the fight.

I made a video of my reactions and thoughts about winter riding. It may be my last. Or at least the last ride in snow I make. I say that now. Who knows what next winter will bring.

15 Years of Winter Riding

Stubborn Winter and Riding

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Snow and ice on car windshield.
Fresh ice and snow dashed any hopes of riding.

Riding Hopes Dashed

Before I opened my eyes I could hear the snowplow clawing along the pavement, telling me there would be no time on the scooter or motorcycle today. I’m weary of the cold air biting at my flesh, the gray skies drowning the color from my sight, the realization I’ve become a prisoner of the harsh whims of nature.

The dreaded wintry mix had arrived and there was nothing I could do. Winter and riding regress into memory and on into myth. I’m so tired of it all.

Yet I realize I am powerless over the weather. Winter and riding are merely a pipe dream of an adventurer growing smaller in my rearview mirror. I’m sliding toward fair-weather riding and I don’t like it.

I need to ride.

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