How to Squeeze More Out of a Ride

I've listened to more than a few riders share, "If I only had more time to ride...".  Perhaps every rider has had those thoughts.  Over the years I've realized that the amount of time on the road isn't the only measure of riding satisfaction.  Changing the tempo and cadence of a ride can lead to some strange places you might not normally experience.  One hot evening I found myself wandering on the baked limestone mud near a quarry and feeling as if I landed in some otherworldly place, if only for a few moments -- an experience lost if I had continued down the road as planned.

I've come to think that riding plans, for the most part, do more to suck the life from a ride than anything else.  Wandering and exploring unfettered by route, time or destination are the really difficult to engage being for most riders the exact opposite of what seems the correct way to engage a trip of anything length.  I wish I could get lost more, lose track of time, and see the world from a perspective other than the one beaten into me.

Riding at night is a nod towards the unknown and mystery.  Everything that's predictable and familiar evaporates into a rush of senses and feelings.  Perhaps with enough night miles under my belt it would be more challenging to not fall into a predictable pattern.  That's a ways off though.  It's dark now -- maybe a good time for a short ride.

Into the Night and Cold

Almost dissolved in the recliner this evening but ended up in the dark and cold on the Vespa. A cloud of salt dust blowing along the road as the traffic passed, what little there was, the rest of the world seeming to choose some other place to live than the road.  Anyone searching for solitude can find it here at night in the cold.

Left the house without my little digital camera and had to rely on the iPhone, not especially good in low light but I lean heavily on images in my posts -- feel mute without them.  Don't often play with the apps to warp images into little fetishes.

Part of the credit for the success of the evening belongs to Heet.  The last couple cold weather rides were a bit frustrating because of fuel line freezing.  Poured a little of this magic elixir into the fuel tank and no more no start events.  At least not this evening at 21F.  I have enough now to get me through the rest of the winter.

My first stop of the evening was for fuel, to mix the Heet with gas and venture off with crossed fingers.  The world is salt covered right now.  The scene actually looked like this.  Yesterday I had lunch at the Happy Valley Brewery in State College, Pennsylvania and the parking lot, a freshly constructed blacktop area, was almost pure white and not from snow.  Just the dregs of road salt.

My poor Vespa...

I had three goals for the evening -- test the fuel fix, go to the grocery store, and stop by the Piston and Pints get together that was taking place at Legends Pub in the Penn State Conference Hotel.

Riding into Innovation Park I was wondering if anyone would show up.

It was a full house at the hotel and a lot of familiar faces at Piston and Pints though no motorcycles.
Didn't attempt any pictures inside, was in a bit of a rush because here was more riding ahead, and I wasn't sure if the fuel line was going to freeze.  In the lobby I talked with a few guys and they had a fine suggestion that I might try -- use a few of the chemical heating bags on the fuel line to thaw it out.  Worth a try and certainly cheaper than a tow.

Dom Chang, author of Redleg's Rides, suggested a couple cans of Sterno under the engine.  That may work for a Ural but I have my doubts about it for the Vespa.  I'll have to think a bit on that.

The trip to the store was for the essentials limited only by what I can fit on the scooter.  Then off into the night and cold.  It's hard to describe how much I enjoy these rides.  I described the experience to Kim as similar to Junior's excitement when the tennis balls are brought out -- an burst of joy packed energy.

Oh to ride...

Chasing the Night

I've had a picture in my head for a few weeks -- a picture of the Christmas lights in State College in the snow.  Bad planning on my part let that opportunity slip away as the temperatures soared and the snow melted.  Even so, I rode into town thinking there was still some sort of possible picture to make.  More bad planning -- I arrived too early.  At 1:20am there is still a lot of activity on the streets and I just couldn't get myself or the Vespa in the position I needed.

The bars close at 2am and by 3am things should be in better shape for the picture I want to make.  I'll just have to get my head around staying up that late or getting up that early.

For this ride it was a pleasure to ride with the temperature near 60F despite a brisk wind.

Riding at Night and Other Photographic Pastimes

Walking the dog at sunset and the sky opens and momentarily illuminates Boalsburg.  An iPhone picture doesn't sate my visual survey and the little photographer voice tells me I should be riding.  The 82 pound dog at the end of the leash says otherwise.

By the time I'm on the road the sun is gone and the light is fading as mist begins to gather along the ground.  Luck figures into photography more than I like to admit — F8 and be there kind of stuff...

Riding into the night still provides a thrill.  Some say a dangerous one which I keep in mind and make plans to manage.  Give me the right night, a camera and keys to a scooter and motorcycle and I'm off to see the stars...

A Gerbing Heated Gloves Night

Gerbing is as good as their word -- a brand new pair of leather, G3 heated gloves.  My old ones failed and they replaced them.  I'm a confirmed Gerbing rider.  And when I got home from work tonight I had to try them out during a trip into town.  While the Vespa was idling in the driveway I plugged the new gloves in and felt warmth almost instantly.  Really warm.  And the new gloves have heated palms.

I knew there would be some ice to experiment with nearby and I wanted to give the snow tires a little more testing in a controlled setting.  I'm always interested in what the limits of equipment are to factor into my own limitations.  As the temperature dropped to 27F I figured I better head into town.

You don't see boots are cars very often around here. Finding one on a Yamaha Vino scooter must be a first.  The fines for this rider have to be rough.

Walking down Beaver Avenue in State College, Pennsylvania I saw a poster of James Dean and Marilyn Monroe (I think) in the window of Uncle Eli's.  Couldn't resist taking a picture but it's the kind of vision I would expect on Twisted Roads rather than here.

I had been thinking about heated grips for the past few weeks while my dead electric gloves were in Tumwater.  But I can say without reservation that these new Gerbing heated gloves work so well that I won't be looking at anything else.

The Simple Night Ride

 

The past two evenings I've found myself on the road at night and with it a renewed appreciation of riding.  Many riders tell me they don't ride at night -- too dangerous, too cold, or no fun.  I read in riding books about the misguided riders who venture forth at night, in the rain, or in cold weather. 

Make no mistake; the risk of riding at night is greater than it is during the day.

This evening I was sitting at the traffic light at the corner of Allen Street and Beaver Avenue in State College, Pennsylvania looking at the Christmas lights when I turned off the engine and pushed the Vespa up onto the sidewalk to make this picture.  And to look a bit longer at the lights.  Just long enough to be on my way before finding out that there is a law against having the scooter posing for pictures on the sidewalk.

Off into the night, a changing pattern of color and light as I made my way home, a visual treat that just doesn't exist during the day.

 

The night before I rode to the grocery store for supplies -- empty streets and a quiet parking lot.  The night air was crisp but not cold at 42F.  What struck me most was the tapestry of fragrances arise from the darkness offering an experience unique to the night.

Riding home through the smell of charred meat at the steakhouse and on past gasoline fumes from a busy island of gas pumps.  Passing through a tony section of State College my helmet filled with the acrid smell of coal -- someone burning coal for some unfathomable reason in a neighborhood.  I remembered the same smell from childhood driving through less tony neighborhoods in Mckees Rocks and Coraopolis.

Passing into the sticks I was greeted by the unmistakable smell of fermenting liquid cow manure from a nearby dairy farm, the farmer no doubt adding or withdrawing from a lagoon and releasing a reminder of food production.

At some point I shuddered for a moment, just a bit of excitement from my senses being roused to life, realizing (again) at how powerful a ride can be.  Walking into the house, skin warm, eyes bright and a spring in my step I was sure a grin was painted on my face.  

All courtesy of a simple night ride.

Into the Night

Junior knows when we’re on the last walk of the night. He has an uncanny sense of time and often knows what I’m going to do before I do. Standing under a moonlit sky at 1:30am we listen to crickets, cicadas, and katydids perform their summer symphony. He’s thinking biscuit and bed. I’m thinking it a good night for a ride.

The nice thing about being married to an artist is that a middle of the night ride falls within the limits of normal behavior. Kim’s only misgiving is that she can’t come along. If my employer is reading this please note I am on vacation this week.

Night stimulates varied responses among riders. For some (like me) it evokes a time of stillness and reflection. For others, it's a time for terror of deer, drunks, and unfortunate interactions. I remember a book on motorcycle technique that admonished the reader to venture into the night only in an emergency and in dire, personal peril. I believe that. The heightened risk is real and I manage accordingly.

I arrive in town as the bars are closing and people are on the sidewalk making final social decisions. With camera in hand I walk across the street to make a few pictures. Too lazy to retrieve the tripod I sit down against a parking meter and steady the camera against my knees for a half second exposure at a grain generating ISO.

Forgive my photographic indolence.

On campus the pervasive illumination keeps the night at bay and lends a theatrical feeling to the surroundings. Night is somewhere other than here.

Kneeling in the middle of the street behind a little tripod I struggle to make a picture of the Vespa and the moon. I police cruiser glides by watching me work. Law enforcement everywhere knows that photographers using tripods constitute the good guys. I thought he might question my Vespa parked on the sidewalk but he departed in search of more interesting miscreants.

It’s 2:30am as I ride out of town in search of a more suitable landscape to breath in the night. I’m transported into childhood as the scent of Queen Anne’s Lace growing along the road reminds me of playing army in the fields and woods of years ago.

Standing in a field of corn and soybeans the moon illuminates the controls of the camera. Everything is painted in a cool blue gray with deep shadows hiding any real detail. Fireflies and the taillights of an occasional passing car provide the only rich colors.

My interest in making pictures wanes quickly. A few lame attempts to use the flash and I’m done. Dew has formed on my helmet as the temperature drops. I sense a nearby skunk. In the distance a car engine moves over the road coming closer and bringing it’s bright light with it. When the car stops I wonder who’s behind the wheel – someone concerned for the safety of a man in a black and yellow riding jacket standing next to a Vespa? Or is it just someone looking for trouble and sees a scooter as an easy target?

The car slowly moves away and disappears over a hill. I’m left alone looking at the stars and thinking it gets no better than this.

The (non) Epic Journey

On the way to work a few mornings ago. I find my adventure in small doses. As much imagined as real. A turn off the pavement to enjoy a mile of gravel, a view, the fragrance of honeysuckle floating on a moist morning fog. The Vespa is my license for (non) epic journeys.

Twilight has been calling strongly to the rider. There is so much to see. Everything is different. On a ride to pick up takeout food from Kelly's Steak and Seafood I stopped to admire the changing light on this small white building. I have a collection of photographs of this structure but still I have not seen all its faces. Riding, the camera, and my Moleskine journal continue to work their magic on my brain.

It's essential magic.

Out near midnight doing nothing in particular I stop to admire the moonlight paint the trees along the highway. The magic comes when I am processing the image and see rust behind the front wheel. I've observed many riders fastidiously (obsessively) cleaning and polishing their machines. I don't remember washing any salt away this past year. My Google Tasks now includes some remedial and cosmetic service, hopefully in time before the International Association of Sparkling Chrome, Paint and Detailing Science arrives to revoke my Vespa ownership.

I recognize the heightened risk of riding at night. Common sense, extensive adjustments to managing the machine and the road, and a nod to the riding fairies are all part of the ritual. Thoughts of Bambi, the drunk, and the stray cinder block on the road sharpen attention to detail.

Solitude is rarefied at night. Even the most hectic places succumb to a sleepy state of quiet. Scrambling up the side of the hill to make the picture, looking out over the Vespa and the night sky, I could hear the Eagle's Peaceful Easy Feeling play in my head.

Not too bad for a few (non) epic journeys.

Midnight Ride

Leaving town this evening I felt the night calling. I love riding at night though seldom do it other than a quick errand. Books on riding technique and safety say no to the night. Still it calls. A half moon was already high in the sky and the air was just beginning to cool. But dinner and good sense sent me home.

Just before midnight Kim and I were in the garden watering plants. The moon was glowing through the bows of the fir trees and she commented on how nice it was outside. I couldn't stand it any longer. I hadn't put the Vespa away when I got home so it only took a moment to be on the road, the GTS's bright, red instrument cluster warm like a fire as I began a short ride. I only needed a mile, maybe two, and I would be satisfied.

One last stop for a picture and then home, relaxed, content, awash in the magic of the night. How is it something so simple can be so luxurious?

The Big Empty

Living in a college town means that several times a year one gets to experience the Big Empty. The ghost time feeling left in the wake of the departure of 40,000 souls. Sunday evening I had to run a few errands and took advantage of almost dry roads and mid 30s temperatures. Seeing steam escaping from a building vent was enough to have me pose the Vespa for a portrait with the lone person walking down Calder Alley. I've made many pictures in this alley over the years and I continue to be drawn to it.

Darkness descended when it was time to ride home and the temperature had dropped below freezing. Night always presents additional challenges for a rider and in freezing weather allowances always have to be made for stray water turned to ice. Old Main, the main administration building at Penn State, glowed in the distance as I got ready to go. One last loop through town before heading home.

The center of business life in State College is the stretch of Allen Street between College and Beaver Avenues. There are always cars here in the evening because of the bars and restaurants in this part of town.

Junior, now dubbed the Hammer of Sweetness by our youngest daughter Aleta, joined me in town the next morning for a walk and a bit of dog socialization. Belgian Sheepdogs are wary, alert and do not warm to strangers quickly. Junior and I have been working diligently to familiarize him with strangers and situations in town. He has made a dramatic shift from warning me of every individual on the planet to now he walks casually among people on the street without concern. He takes his cue from me and senses when things are ok. His breed does not warm to people quickly but with my ok he now allows people to greet him without shying away. And once he accepts the gesture he then wants to sit in their lap. He's a good dog.

After returning Junior home for breakfast I had to get back to town and meet my friend Paul at Saints Cafe. Another local place to which I am drawn over and over again. Paul wanted to go for a ride but snow was falling outside and I felt it better to wait for better weather. As I looked out the window at the street I realized I had ridden in far worse and I could have ridden into town if I desired. I didn't. Call me mature.

In an attempt to bring some riding energy to the table Paul showed me the brake drum he ordered for his 1964 Vespa GL. It had arrived from Italy and he was excited about the box. I was reminded (again) how little I care for all things mechanical. It's approaching a pathology.

Paul is a photographer and brought along a box of prints for me to look at. I am always impressed with the work he does. His attention has wandered in different directions in the past few years and he is not (pardon the pun) focused on photography like he once was. Still, his work is strong. He has a series of portraits made over many years of his daughter Allison. He used to shoot them with an 8x10 view camera but now more and more is done with a 35mm or digital camera. I would invoke the term progress but he still has that damn 1964 Vespa...

Evening Rapture

It's not always about the Vespa and riding...

An evening in the garden with Kim. Both of us with small digital cameras sketching the surroundings. We can both get lost in the image making process. It's interesting how differently we see the same place.

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.

Evening rapture...

Night Landscapes

I want to shoot more at night. And ride at night, especially in open rural landscapes under a full moon. I've thought about it for months and now it's cold and windy. Making photographs that take a long time to expose when it's cold just doesn't sound inviting at the moment. Maybe because the wind is howling.

I made the above image to see how Photoshop would stitch together multiple exposures to build a panorama. Click the image to see it better. Depending on the size of your monitor you might have to scroll across it.

The cold weather is definitely here. A small section of Interstate 80 east of here was closed temporarily because of snow. Oh well, maybe I'll make pictures in the daylight.