Alone on the Road

Thinking about the things that make winter riding so attractive -- so few vehicles on the road.  Stir in Thanksgiving Day and I'm all alone.

Didn't think I would find much traffic on Thanksgiving morning.  With most people already at their destinations and the rest staying warm inside I had the neighborhood to myself.  Mostly.

Cold can be deceptive.  With the sun out it "seemed" to not be so bad but just a few moments with the gloves off left my hands hurting.  A little wind combined with 23F did its work.

State College, Pennsylvania is dead on Thanksgiving morning.  Penn State is closed and everyone is somewhere else.  Would have parked the Vespa in the middle of the crosswalk for a picture except my luck would have the only police car on patrol roll up as I was lining up the shot.

Reminded me of Abbey Road.

Allen Street, the hub of downtown State College was empty.  Reminded me of holidays of my youth when everything, everywhere closed.  God help the person in need of food or fuel.

The road this morning led out of town to Cracker Barrel where I would meet a friend for Thanksgiving breakfast.  His idea.  Last night I suggested Denny's.  Nothing with a more local flavor was open.

The parking lot at Cracker Barrel appeared to border on the tundra.  Perhaps because I parked beyond the cars to gain this view.  Everything isn't always as it appears.




Breakfast was ok.  The company much better.  Always nice to get together with friends.  Cracker Barrel had a big fire burning in a huge fireplace.  I could easily have lay down in front of it and gone to sleep.  I'm that kind of guy.

At home, with no fireplace in sight, a hug with Junior would have to suffice.  Kim caught the action.

As much as I like to ride, it's good, no, it's great to be home.

Togetherness

Kim last night after we returned from our first long ride together on the Vespa.  I never understood the attraction of riding two up until we were on the road, moving through the late evening light, feeling her body against me, my hand reaching down to touch her leg, her voice drifting forward from the ether, her hands on my waist.

I hate riding with a passenger.  Another preconceived notion destroyed.

She wore my bumblebee jacket, her new Nolan helmet and fancy Held gloves.  A heavy storm passed earlier sweeping away the heat and leaving us a dimming landscape dressed in low hanging fog, muted color, and a sense of riding through Brigadoon.

In the dark, under the glow of the garage door light, I could see the smile on her face, the wind blown transformation that makes riding magic.  Later she suggested we ride tomorrow.

For a long time I hoped Kim would crave a scooter of her own.  Now, after riding together, I'm not so sure...