My friend Paul doesn’t always live up to my expectations of a Harley rider. There is no black leather or biker look – at least in my own image of what that is. There are times when he does live up to it though. At 7:45am on Saturday while I was getting the Vespa ready to ride into town to meet Paul I watched a rumbling Road King pass by the house, it’s rider in a black T-shirt, shaved head, no helmet, jeans, and black leather engineer boots. I’m standing in the driveway pulling on overpants and a windbreaker underneath my armored jacket being the sissy. The temperature was 67 degrees. Cold for me on a bike. Or scooter. But that was a Harley rider. Paul is like that too. He under-dresses in my opinion at times. Just not in a manner that fits my image of a Harley-Davidson rider. We stopped on the way out of town so he could add another layer. A red windbreaker. I found out yesterday that the jacket belonged to a woman he is dating. Just happened to be in the sidebag.
We planned to ride from State College to Belleville for breakfast via the scenic route over Pine Grove Mountain. Paul was on his new Harley Crossbones that he bought on eBay. That’s not how a person should come to Harley is it? Shouldn’t there be some sort of ritual involving beer and blood or something? I guess I am remembering the brother of my best friend growing up back in the 1960s outside of Pittsburgh. He dropped out of high school, got himself a girlfriend to impregnate, kept a chopper in his dingy apartment, got arrested for trying to buy morphine (again) at a local pharmacy with a fake prescription and generally involved himself in a slow but steady decline. He’s in a nursing home now at age 60 after some acquaintances pitched him down some stairs for some breach in etiquette. Perhaps my vision of the Harley has been perverted. Maybe I have attitude. I still like some of them though. The lingering effects of
Then Came Bronson perhaps.
Saturday morning was lovely with temperatures hovering just under 70 degrees. We stopped a few times to make pictures but I generally am not motivated photographically when the sun is out and the skies are blue. Paul took charge since he was in the lead. Whenever he pulled over to shoot something I pulled out the camera and snapped a shot. Like the one above just outside McAlevey’s Fort.
The lake at Greenwood Furnace State Park reflects the serenity of the day. The road was as peaceful as that picture looks disturbed only by the rumble of my Vespa and Paul’s Harley.
We stopped at the Belleville Livestock Auction facility to see if the little diner there was open for breakfast. It wasn’t but I had the opportunity to photograph Paul in a heroic pose more in keeping with part of my Harley vision. Something better aligned with the Marlboro image too.
But then he goes and wrecks it by saying; “Take my picture with straw on my head.” I oblige but what the hell is that all about? Isn’t he afraid his Crossbones will be repossessed?
On to Dairyland in Reedsville for breakfast. I make the obligatory photo of my Vespa in front of the big cow. I feel like a tourist. Everyone is watching me. I imagine them thinking “how cool is that fellow…”
Breakfast is good. The standard scrambled eggs, home fries and toast for me. I passed on the bacon for some stupid reason I regret now. But it was fine. While dining a fellow who saw our cameras stopped to suggest we might want to photograph an Amish barn raising about 5 miles down the valley. I’m thinking he’s setting us up; it’s a trap where our machines will be appropriated. Another Amish criminal sting operation. That’s where my head is.
Paul doesn’t take his Harley ownership lightly. He keeps the machine sparkling and he displays the requisite number of skulls on his clothing. But something still feels off to me.
Sure enough there actually was a barn raising. From the safe distance of the road I make a few pictures. Paul on the other hand rides his Harley down the farm lane and right up to the barn to talk with the Amish workers. He’s fearless that way. I suppose that’s why he’s on a Harley and I’m on a Vespa.
While he learns about post and beam construction I talk with the milk cans. Actually I thought this sort of operation was illegal now in Pennsylvania. In days gone by the bulk milk trucks would pick these things up and take them to the milk plant. But as I understand things the milk has to remain refrigerated from farm to plant. Maybe these are just for decoration.
It was a fine morning ride. Sixty miles or so for breakfast and a barn raising. A good day and a good ride with a friend. Even if he doesn’t fit my vision of a Harley rider.
It's not always about the Vespa and riding...
This season has been exceptional for plants. The temperatures have remained mild and there has been plenty of moisture for growth. Our garden quickly becomes a jungle of plant growth if neglect it long.
Bluebells have appeared likely seeded from birds that visit. As the light fades the flowers glow.
Last night we visited the People's Choice Festival in Boalsburg, Pennsylvania. After all the artists and crafts people closed up shop for the night we remained to shoot more pictures. Kim has been experimenting with a new Panasonic Lumix camera. Her photographic approach is less constricted than my own. She isn't concerned about all the "rules" that I learned over the years that can choke away creative exploration. She had a show recently of collage and photography and sold more photographs there that I have in my entire career. I can learn a lot from her.
The Vespa did enter the picture late in the evening when we decided some ice cream was required. A ride in cool night air under a full moon. And a return home with Moose Tracks and Peanut Butter Cup.
Posts
