Maybe I watched too many episodes of My Name is Earl. I figured if I did something nice for someone Karma would take care of me and that winning lottery ticket would blow up against my riding boot. Sitting on the back of my friend Paul's truck at the end of the day 60 miles from home I was rethinking the Earl model.
I have been on vacation during the holidays but until yesterday didn't really take a long ride and with the weather warming into the 40's I figured now was the time, especially since I just did all the maintenance on the scooter. I departed around 9AM under cloudy skies and a 28° F temperature. The grass and cars were covered in frost but the road was dry. I bundled up in my riding gear and was off. I had my Mamiya 7 camera along to shoot some black and white landscape pictures --- the official start of a new project. The plan was to explore some really open spaces along Nittany and Sinking valleys. The sun was trying to push through the cloud cover creating a glow in the sky and on the frost covered fields.
While shooting this picture a gentleman from a nearby home trotted over to ask about the Vespa and share that he had an ET4. What better omen for a great ride than running into a fellow Vespa owner! We talked for a few minutes and then I was off towards the more remote sections of the valley.
The light continued to glow and warm. Stopping to take pictures, pulling off my mittens and exposing them to the cold air was taking it's toll on hand warmth though and it wasn't long before I would preheat them on the headlight before pulling the mittens back on. There were a lot of neat little spots along the way including this old garage covered in signs and license plates.
I have passed it many times and always wanted to stop to make a picture. And these silos seemed to jump out at me when I went by requiring another stop for the big camera and a quick snapshot with the digital camera too.
I had decided to ride into Tyrone for lunch when a tractor-trailer driver flagged me down. He had a paper in his hand so I figured he was more interested in directions than in the Vespa. Two Vespa encounters in one day were too much to expect. The driver and his 14000 pounds of seed were lost and worse the place he was trying to find was about as hidden away as possible around here. I lent him my cell phone so he could get directions and as I watched his look become more puzzled and frustrated I asked for the phone. After a few minutes I determined exactly where the delivery point was and that this guy from Indiana would never find it. What else could I do but volunteer to lead him there. It was only about 10 miles in the opposite direction that I was now headed but heck I am always up for a change in plans. So he jumps into the cab and I get on the scooter and hit the starter button and it just whirrs. "Dead battery" flashes in my head. I get off and hit the kick-starter (yes, the Vespa LX150 still has a kickstart) a few times and the engine starts and off we go.
It was a nice ride especially with an eighteen-wheel escort behind me that didn't want to run me down. Once we hit the dirt roads though I was kind and he had a hard time keeping up. I had to stop a few times to make sure he was still there. We arrive at the agricultural enterprise and they are glad I led the truck there. It occurred to me then that they would have come and got him if I hadn't volunteered to lead him. Turned out that I was glad I did because I found some roads and places that were fine riding and offered lots of photo possibilities for my new project. The farmers have put up their snow fences but we haven't had any snow yet. They do make for nice pictures.
Lunch was out of the question now until I got to Altoona that lay over the far ridge and 12 miles to the left.
I was smart enough at this point to not shut the engine off when I was taking pictures. I figured I would check things out when I got to Altoona. The really smart rider would have ridden home to troubleshoot in his or her own garage. An hour later I pull into my in-laws driveway and go inside for a fantastic meatball sandwich.
The fun begins now as I try and get the Vespa running for the trip home. I had it in my head that the starter would not engage because the battery was low. Swapped the battery from my father-in-law's ET4 and the same thing. And my battery started his scooter fine. At this point I ask to use the computer and post on the Modern Vespa site for help and receive immediate help from the Technical Moderator Gary that I should run down the ground to make sure it is solid. He helped me troubleshoot but as the afternoon waned I figured it was time to truck the scooter home. I called my friend Paul who graciously offered to drive his truck 60 miles to get the scooter and me. Here you can see Paul on the left with my father-in-law Bob.
They both did a lot to try and get the Vespa running. We loaded up and headed for gas and a bite to eat, the least I could do.
It was dark when we left and suddenly we have no headlights on the truck. I'm beginning to wonder now what I'm being punished for. Karma is not with me. It wasn't until we got home that Kim put things in perspective for me. It was a great ride, I did a good deed, I met another Vespa rider, I had the opportunity to be with family, a good friend showed his friendship, I was home safe, and perhaps there was a reason for not riding home. Kim pointed out what I couldn't see because I was focused on what I wanted---the scooter to start---and wasn't seeing the bigger picture. This wasn't a misadventure but another adventure. It's all in the way you look at things.
The scooter is in the garage and the heater is running. Another adventure awaits.
The day arrived. My oldest daughter was getting married. This story has nothing to do with riding. Well, almost nothing.
I did ride the Triumph Speed Triple to Portfolio in Boalsburg at 8am last Saturday morning to shoot a picture of her having her hair done before the 10:30am ceremony. It would be the only riding I would do that day but I suppose one has to make sacrifices for their children. And I earned the right to not be the photographer save for a few snapshots I made with a little point-and-wait camera. It was a nice day.
Time flies. Seems like yesterday that I held my little girl in a warm bath minutes after she was born. A few months ago she was being fitted for a wedding gown that languished in the store most likely because few women wanted or could wear such a long dress. It reminded me of Cinderella.
Hannah endured a few pictures while she and the stylist worked to figure out what to do. I didn't stay for the entire session and would wait until later that morning to see the results.
The wedding took place in Eisenhower Chapel on the University Park campus of Penn State. Dwight D. Eisenhower laid the cornerstone of the chapel some time after he finished with World War II.
Hannah and Jason invited guests to have dinner at the Gamble Mill in Bellefonte, Pennsylvania. It was perhaps the most pleasant and relaxed wedding I have ever attended which for me is saying a lot. I have to admit that I shy from social events. Aversion or phobia. Chose one. But this was fun. I caught my 3 Prints Project friend Gordon Harkins photographing them. Gordon was the official photographer.
The picture above is an impressionistic interpretation of the bridal couple.
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.
Essa went for her first ride on the Vespa yesterday afternoon. Kim called to tell me the ashes were ready to be picked up at the vet’s office and wondered if I might be able to swing by on my way home. Before going on with this story I need to say something about Centre Animal Hospital. They have been a blessing during the past week and have provided outstanding care for Essa for as long as we have been going there. When Dr. Deb Smart performed emergency surgery at 3am on a Sunday morning about 6 years ago to deal with a gastric tortion volvolus she gave us six additional years with our dog. And she was with Essa at the end. We could not have asked for anything more from a veterinarian or a clinic.
We stopped along Spring Creek at a place Essa liked to swim. It’s been a long time since she was in the water due to weakening legs. But I could see her leaping into the stream and paddling around forever if I didn’t make her leave.
I realized as I made my way home that the dog traveled these routes with me before. In the truck searching for rocks for the garden, in the car on an outing to make photographs. This was her world as well as mine. And now it was hers for good.
Already I feel the absence of our nightly walks. Standing at the end of the driveway looking up at the stars I can feel her in me. She taught me how to be thoughtful and as author James Thurber noted "Dogs are obsessed with being happy". I witnessed that in her. And that happiness rubbed off on Kim and I.
I made this picture yesterday afternoon. Essa was bright and happy despite severe spinal arthritis, kidney and liver disease, and the march of time on her body. Her fire burned bright despite these setbacks.
Not long afterwards she collapsed in the yard and we took her to the emergency veterinary clinic. A night in the clinic followed and then to our vet where for a time there was a glimmer of hope that she would rally and improve. By morning though she was fading. Lying on the floor of a kennel with closed eyes I did not see her get up again. Her body had enough living.
There was a skylight over the place where she died and as I looked up at the blue sky I imagined her flying free now unencumbered by her failed body. It's selfish of me but I wish she had stayed a bit longer.
No riding this weekend because I helped moved my youngest daughter Aleta and her boyfriend Enzo move to New York City. Following the U-Haul along in my Ford Ranger did offer an extended cage experience and the first time driving in an urban area since acquiring the Vespa. 
Traveling east along Interstate 80 I became fully aware of how isolated I am behind the wheel. Those extra few feet between me and the road cuts off a lot of sensory experience. In its place comes a refocusing of attention on the radio, the temperature control of the air conditioner, the map, the seat position, and the cruise control. The world passes by and I hardly realize it.
Higher speeds are a given on the Interstate as we travel along at a consistent 70 to 75 MPH. And that just keeps us up with most of the traffic. I am surprised at how many motorcycles pass me at speeds I can barely attain on the Vespa with little or no protection. A great many riders on cruising bikes headed towards the Pocono Raceway seemed right at home at 80 MPH with nothing protecting their bodies other than hair, T-shirt, and sunglasses. We all make decisions about the level of risk we are willing to assume and describe to ourselves the outcome of an unfortunate incident on the road. I suppose these riders just tell themselves they are going to die.
All trips require nourishment and this was no exception. What better way to complement the elegant travel by Interstate highway than a stop at White Castle. I had not been to one since the 1980's and I think I'm good now for another 25 years.
The rate of progress began to diminish as we approached the George Washington Bridge. Flashing signs a few miles from the bridge indicated a 90-minute delay to the tollbooths. Fortunately they were wrong and we only had to wait about 35 minutes. And traffic wasn't even bad. I turn the radio off so I can fully experience the new driving patterns, habits and techniques that do nothing less than astound me. Even though traffic is moving at less than 10 MPH vehicles jockey for position and advancement across four lanes hoping to pick up a hundred yards of distance by the time we get across the bridge. What's more amazing is how polite everyone seems about the cut ins and cut offs. I rarely hear a car horn and never once saw a hand raised in singular gesture. 
Across the bridge and through some sort of tunnel brings us to an exit heading towards the Triboro Bridge and Queens. More traffic and my first views of riders splitting lanes. I don't think it's legal in New York but there is no way a police car will ever catch someone in this traffic. And again the lane splitting is met with quiet acceptance and I even see cars swinging wide to let the riders advance more easily. New Yorkers really are polite.
We finally get to our destination around 6 PM and start to unpack. This view is from the third floor apartment to which all the contents of the U-Haul and my Ford Ranger must go. And there are no elevators or air conditioning. But with the help of roommate Tara we manage to get everything upstairs in record time and I don't drop over in the process. All moved in (but nothing unpacked or put together)
I bid my farewells to try and get out of the city before dark and make my way home to the safety of the sticks. As complicated as the path into Queens was to find the apartment I find my way back without incident or loss and onto Interstate 80 traveling West just as it starts to get dark.
Suddenly I'm not so tired and I can see all right. Another 25 miles and I know I have to stop and a rest area serves as my respite. It took a few minutes for my 53-year-old 6 foot 2 inch body to find a comfortable sleeping position in the cab of a Ford Ranger but when I did I went out for 5 hours.
Up before dawn and on home rested and satisfied with the trip. I thought about how I could visit Queens on the Vespa but I'm not sure I would want to make that trip. I have to admire those of you who deal with city riding on a regular basis. At least on the expressways in cities. For now I think I will remain scooterless in the city. Amtrak has a nice train that goes from here to New York.
