Letting the Road Lead

Another Saturday morning with no plans. The day arrives with possibilities - work in the garden, clean the house, grocery shopping, ride. The sky was blue and the temperature hovering in the low 40's. I thought about pulling all my camping gear out of the closet to see how well I could pack the scooter. I struggled with the possibilities before deciding on a short ride. Like so many other mornings I sat at the end of the driveway for a few minutes pondering whether to go left or right.

What I really like about riding is the feeling of freedom. It's physical. I'm gliding through the air. And it's mental. When I am riding almost everything slips away other than me, the Vespa, and the world. At its best I am focused on the moment in front of me.

Riding north I think of the old Chevrolet jingle that Dinah Shore used to sing - See the USA in Your Chevrolet. There's a piece of Americana from another time. But that's what I am doing with the Vespa GTS. I'm seeing the world in a way I don't believe possible in a Chevrolet (or any other four-wheeled vehicle). I'm seeing what's around me. Not a trip to grand destinations but appreciating the magic that is right in front of me almost anywhere I am.

In pictures and captions this is how the morning unfolded:

Vanishing experience - local drive-in theater still operating. Shrek 3 was playing along with three other movies for a dusk to dawn experience.


Had to stop at a motorcycle garage with flowerboxes. It was closed but a peak inside the garage revealed a huge collection of old bikes. I'll be back.


Gamble Mill Restaurant in Bellefonte, Pennsylvania. Closed this early in the morning. Had the best venison chili at this place a few years ago.


A farmfield shortcut. You never know what kind of views you might find. The Vespa GTS handled the dirt and plants well. Has me rethinking the off-road capabilities.


Mountain spring water. It's common to find piped spring water flowing along mountain roads. What most of us pay for at the grocery store you can get for free at these places. This water is headed for the Chesapeake Bay.


Like the drive-in theaters fire towers have almost vanished in Pennsylvania. This one in Moshannon State Forest is a reminder of times past.


Some views are small.


Grander view looking southeast across the valley. Bald Eagle ridge is off towards the horizon.


Breakfast/lunch break at the lake at Black Moshannon State Park. Even in this fine spring weather I have the place to myself.


View across the lake from my picnic table. Lily pads and other vegetation starting to grow. In another month or so the lake will be thick with plants.


Heading home from Black Moshannon along Rattlesnake Road. I looked for snakes at every stop sure I would see one but no luck. With the sun out and plenty of water around I'm sure they were there. Especially up on the mountain top.

The entire ride was a visual and arromatic delight. The fragrance of dogwood, honeysuckle, and mountain laurel was everywhere as I rode through winding roads. I continue to be pleased with the performance of the Vespa GTS 250ie as a vehicle. Not only does is provide everything I need to navigate these roads and highways but it is so easy to stop and look around. I can pull over anywhere without fear I am blocking traffic or creating a huge hazard. Piaggio has really pulled together decades of Vespa work to make this arguably the best scooter ever.

So now you know my opinion. *grin*

Arrived home safely with another 64 miles on the odometer and ready to tackle the garden. I am grateful to have the opportunity to make these little trips.

Helmets and Style

Anyone who knows me will tell you style is not the first thing that comes to mind when my name is mentioned. That's not to say there aren't some style choices going on in my life. My choice of a modern Vespa was made in part because I liked the visual style. Beyond that I am beginning to have trouble. I wear jeans but more because of their utility than style. The riding clothes I wear were chosen for utility as well. I picked a bright yellow riding jacket because I wanted other members of the driving community to be able to see me and perhaps not run me down as readily. That bumblebee look has become of personal style now and I wouldn't wear anything but black and yellow now. How would anyone know it's me in pictures?

A helmet for many is a personal style choice, a safety choice, or a personal freedom choice. For me, like with the yellow riding jacket, it was a safety choice. The color of the helmet was a style choice.

So where the hell am I going with this?

Yesterday on the way to work I am riding into town on Atherton Street, a four-lane road with no center divider and many driveways and streets attaching themselves to it. I'm traveling in the right-hand lane at 50 MPH. A colleague from work, Chad, is behind me in his red BMW Z3. A Toyota Land Cruiser is passing on the left and just as it pulls even with me I see in my peripheral vision a large bird sweep out from in front of the Toyota's windshield. This happens in an instant and my brain has time to acknowledge the flight path of the bird and tighten my neck muscles for impact.

The bird hits squarely in the center of my visor with startling force. It felt like someone took a swing at me with a baseball bat. The bird careens off to the right and I give my head a shake to make sure everything is still working. The Vespa GTS and I maintain a straight line on the road and continue on our merry way.

In the office Chad stops by to remark on the impact and how surprised he was by it. We both agree how nice it was to have a helmet --- me so more damage wasn't done, him because he didn't have to run me over if I got knocked down.

At lunchtime I had to run an errand and as I was taking off my helmet in a parking lot a beautiful custom painted Harley Davidson Fatboy pulls in. The rider is in commonly seen style - T-shirt, jeans, boots, no gloves, no helmet, no goggles or glasses, no windshield. I can't help but wonder what that bird impact would do. I remember my cousin was knocked off his Harley by an apple lofted from a passing car.

On the way home last evening I was aware of how little warning you really get for some things like a bird, a darting cat, dog, groundhog or deer. A rock thrown up by a passing truck. There is no time for evasive action in some of these cases. Just enough time to recognize the impending event.

I will have to seek some advice from those of you with more experience on what one actually does in these situations. All I can come up with is to brace myself for the collision and hope everything stays together and upright. And I suppose it is a reminder to slow down in certain situations and have some protective gear.

And there comes the personal decision. Style, safety, freedom. We each are responsible for ourselves.

UPDATE

Frank Armstrong aka pitchertaker posted a link in the comments section that deals with bird collisions of another sort. If you are a timid flier you may not want to watch this.

Mayday Thomson 757

Packing

Nothing has percolated into my head strongly enough to warrant a new post. Except here I am writing. Again. Certainly there has been nothing unique in any of the commutes I have made this week save for the uncomfortably hot weather on Tuesday that had me thinking about different armored riding pants.

What has been floating in my head at the near subconscious level is a long ride. An overnight ride complete with camping rather than a motel. I have a whole closet full of backpacking equipment that has sat idle for the past few years. A new MSR stove used once. Some nice titanium cookware. Ultra-light tent, down sleeping bag. Even a new ThermaRest mattress. The list goes on.

I can't even say I am planning. Just dreaming. Turning things over in that unreliable place that generally yields nothing. I have to be careful to not think too much or nothing will happen. It's probably time to start writing some things down. That will make it all more concrete.

Packing. That focuses on one area of concern. I already know I can carry a lot of stuff on the Vespa. The picture at the top of the page is from a trip last weekend to Wegman's grocery store. All of that fit under the seat. What has been worrying me is how I will carry all the stuff for an overnight trip since I don't have a big top case or front rack. Instead of worrying about it I should put everything together and load it on the Vespa and see what happens. Makes sense. That's what I'll do.

See how great writing can be.

Serial Tableau --- Saturday Morning Ride

Inspired by a comment on Rush Hour Rambling...














65 miles, fair weather.

Lazy Bastard or Reasonable Rider

I already had my earplugs in, helmet on, and ready to thumb the starter when I realized I still had my low work shoes on. Normally I ride with over-the-ankle leather Wolverine boots but I forgot to change before leaving my office. I sat a moment pondering what to do.

Riding home here in rush hour traffic is not the battle that urban commuters face on a daily basis. There is definitely more traffic but it only adds five minutes to the non-rush hour travel time.

I'll also admit to not wearing the armored pants either. Haven't been wearing them consistently since the weather warmed up. Even so I can't say the heat is the reason since temperatures still hover in the low to mid 40's in the morning. I've convinced myself I'm dressing for the ride. A reasonable thought. I might even believe it if it weren't for the fact that I have been letting the pre-ride tire pressure checks slide to weekly ones. And let's not talk about oil and fluid level checks. I suppose as my skill in manipulating the scooter have improved so much that there is really no need to put my feet down at stop signs. Perhaps the mental energy I am burning to consider these changes is merely a way to avoid thinking about more important topics. Or not.

On this ride home I feel unexpectedly exposed and vulnerable on the Vespa. I notice a tire-eating opening in the pavement that I hadn't seen before. Waiting at a traffic light I see two T-short clad, tennis shoe wearing, sportbike riders scream around a Greyhound bus and I marvel at their faith in what might be in front of that bus.

Farther along I try to convince myself that riders competing in the Tour De France travel at speeds comparable to what I'm doing. A look in my rear-view mirror at a couple arguing in the cab of a Ford F250 truck two car lengths behind me highlighted one difference between Lance Armstrong and myself.

I did go back into my office to change shoes. I have consistently been wearing full-helmet, earplugs, armored jacket, gloves, long pants, and boots. But not wearing the armored pants has bugged me for some reason. Commuting in jeans and running errands without the Tourmaster Overpants feels nice. I've gotten down on my knees often enough in the driveway to do something and felt the electric pain when a sharp pebble drives itself into my knee to realize that armored pants offer more than skin protection.

On the way home I stopped to look at some trees in bloom at a local cemetery that claims to be the birthplace of Memorial Day.

There is a large bronze statue there of three women laying flowers at the grave of a soldier fallen during the Civil War. I arrived home safe but without resolution of my personal concerns.

This morning I road to work fully geared because it was raining. The ride home was even worse in a torrential downpour. I don't know what the heck is up with my gear but by the time I got home I was drenched from the waist down. Time to look at some changes. Wet at 75 degrees on a short ride isn't bad though. Just made me feel like I accomplished something!

Quick Ride, Quick Breakfast

Ferns are unfurling and spring plants in bloom. I hate to admit it but I would rather be at home with Kim and the dog working in the garden. I haven't put the Vespa away for the season though but I do hear more competing voices in my head this time of year. Getting up early always allows for a quick ride to some breakfast destination.

My friend Paul hadn't come outside to play yet when I arrived at his house. His Harley-Davidson Fatboy was still under wraps. Didn't take long to fire it up and make a decision to head north to the Sunset West Restaurant for breakfast. As any experienced rider knows there are two routes to any destination; the route you take when you are driving and the route you take when you are riding. They are not equal in time or distance.

This morning's route took us along Spring Creek and through Fisherman's Paradise. Nice place to stop and look around but with an empty stomach and waiting garden we rode on to Sunset West.

While waiting for breakfast to arrive Paul was showing off a new cell phone that he got from Europe. I was trying to remember to make an elegant portrait of the food presented much in the same manner that Gary Charpentier does on Rush Hour Rambling.

The results seem to indicate a lack of respect for food on my part. I eat first and ponder what happened later. Or never. I'll keep after the food portraits.

After breakfast Paul was headed to the local Harley dealer while I was making a beeline home. Like a bee I had to buzz around for a few more pictures stopping to admire the open road and yet another lone tree along a ridge.


Now I am ready to get to work.

Riding Safely Doesn't Come Naturally

I saw this video on Bikes in the Fast Lane Motorcycle News. It highlights the thought process that an experienced rider might go through in a similar situation. It also begs the question if an experienced rider would ever get into this situation in the first place. And things happen very, very quickly on the road.

Either way it reminded me that buying a motorcycle and getting a license in no way prepares a rider to manage risk safely on the road. It doesn't even prompt a person to ask the right questions.



As a daily commuter and year round rider I realize my skills are limited and that I not only don't have all the riding answers, I don't even know what all the questions are. So I try and continue to practice and learn every time I get on the Vespa.

I have a lot of fun riding but I have a responsibility to myself, to my family, and to the other drivers and riders on the road to know what I'm doing. I want to be a rider --- not an owner who happens to take the machine out on the road.

Dan Bateman's Musings of an Intrepid Commuter blog is loaded with posts that help a person embrace intelligent action. He is a master - teaching or riding.

Just a few of his riding skills posts:

Aim First, Then Fire --- help with negotiating curves.
Braking in a Curve
Part II, Stopping Quickly in a Curve

If you take some time and pour through Dan's blog you will find a wealth of information that will make you a better and safer rider. And if you post it can be like having your own personal riding coach! I'm hoping Dan doesn't start a PayPal system for solid advice.... *grin*

Vespa GTS on the Long Ride

With plans turning in my head for longer trips I decided to assess the performance limits of the GTS against my own limits as a rider. With clear skies and the temperature at 45° F I rolled down the street at 6:30 AM with only a vague idea of what I would do other than take a long ride.

After reading stories of traffic nightmares on Rush Hour Rambling, Midwest Scooter Enthusiast, and Musings of an Intrepid Commuter I've become aware of how little traffic there is here in the sticks and this Sunday morning the roads seemed even more empty than usual. At one point I remember thinking that something terrible had happened and everyone was at home glued to their television.

I did have one chore to mix in the ride. I had to deliver motor and hub oil to my father-in-law Bob for his Vespa ET4. I rode along the winding country roads I usually take on this 49-mile trek and after an hour I had only gone 20 miles.

The light was striking on the emerging spring landscape and I wasn't able to travel without constantly stopping to take pictures. If I had any hope to see how the scooter would perform at a distance I was going to have to learn to stifle my visual senses a bit. With the picture of these lone trees near Seven Stars I made an oath to ride directly to Altoona. I passed quite a few subjects beckoning to me like sirens but I rode on. I knew I had shifted gears mentally to ride and not photograph when I made the turn onto the approach ramp for Interstate 99.

The Vespa GTS has an advertised top speed of 76 MPH and I was pleased to be able to cruise along easily at an indicated 70 MPH. The highway is relatively new and the road surface smooth and free of potholes and tar snakes. The absence of traffic continued save for the occasional passing SUV. With no wind and cool air I had a smooth ride into Altoona for that 25-mile stretch.

Bob didn't know when I was coming and was surprised to see me in the driveway as he was coming out the front door on his way to breakfast. We did a quick check of the fluid levels in his scooter and then I followed him to Kings for a quick bite before riding on. At age 70 he's still riding the Vespa as much as he can and having a blast.

The odometer showed 51 miles as I rode away from the restaurant. Air temperature was now at 54° F. Riding along 6th Avenue I made a decision to go south towards warmer weather by way of the Appalachian Thruway (I-99) to see how the scooter (and me) would do at sustained highway speeds on the 40-mile run to Bedford.

The thruway is a lovely (if a 4 lane highway can be) stretch of highway that follows the first ridge of the Appalachian Mountains south. The Vespa ran great on the highway that was almost empty. During this leg of riding I saw less than ten other vehicles. I was riding with the throttle wide open the whole way. Speeds on the long uphill sections would get to 65MPH and on the long downhill runs 85MPH. A passing car would cause a bit of air buffeting and a feeling of instability. It didn't take me long to figure out that much of the buffeting was my body being banged around by the air hitting me square in the chest and not necessarily the scooter. Tucking down low the scooter ran smooth and tracked along nicely. If I were going to do a lot of this kind of riding a windscreen would help. And tucking down shows a ride in speed as well with my body not acting like a sail.

Leaving the thruway at Bedford I have to make a decision --- turn around and go home or keep riding towards warmer weather. I'm not done riding yet so I head east on US 30 towards Everett, Pennsylvania.

I stopped for fuel there and saw one of the old movie theaters that every small town used to have. It's still standing as a reminder of what small towns used to mean though no movies playing anymore.

Leaving Everett on PA 26 I decide to head towards the Mason-Dixon Line and enter Maryland and the South officially.

Sure enough at the border was a marker commerating that famous demarcation line. The roads are the small winding country routes I find so attractive.

There are picture possibilities everywhere and my commitment to ride fades a bit and the camera comes out for a while and my progress dwindles again.

Eventually I find I-68 and the US 40 Scenic Route. Heading east towards Hancock, Maryland I see two other vehicles and my first motorcycle.


No one seems interested in the scenic route. The season is a couple weeks ahead of us and the Dogwood and Redbud blossoms are in full bloom.

Riding down this stretch of road I have an opportunity for a good deed. I pass a box turtle trying to make his was across the road. Even with almost no traffic I figured it would be a good idea to stop and help him across. He is now safely in the woods after posing for a quick picture.

The scenic route ended as it merged with I-68 heading towards Hancock. Maryland traffic here was heavier and fast. I stayed in the truck lane for most of the way until I had to pass a tractor-trailer. I began running into the rev limiter on this stretch. I thought the engine was starting to misfire until I realized what it was. Not sure why I didn't notice it earlier on the Appalachian Thruway because I thought I was going just as fast.

I exit the interstate and ride south on US 522 towards the Potomac River and West Virginia. I begin seeing my first groups of motorcycles out for their Sunday rides and I am happy to report that almost every rider gave the low wave. Many initiated it first and passing long groups I just left out my hand as we swept by. No evidence of scooter rejection, not even by the leather clad V Twin groups. I was a fine day all around.

Riding into Berkeley Springs, West Virginia I had ridden as far as I was going to today - 133 miles - at least in one direction. After a stop to stretch my legs I headed north towards home. Not wanting to retrace my steps I rode on I-70 north into Pennsylvania. This is a heavily traveled route with lots of trucks. The wind had picked up and I found myself being knocked around more than earlier in the day but was still able to find a comfortable speed to manage the wind, road, and traffic. I even was passing people on this 25-mile leg of the trip.

Exiting in Breezewood, Pennsylvania I headed west on US 30 where I found PA 26 again which would take me all the way home. I stopped at the Eats and Treats for a cheeseburger and fries and a longer stretch. From there a straight run home on winding roads for nearly 70 miles. Total mileage - 258 miles.

Home safe and writing now I know a few more things about the Vespa and myself.

• The scooter is capable of sustained highway riding if necessary.
• My ass is capable of 9 hours in the saddle with some occasional breaks if necessary.
• Taking pictures really slows things down.
• I'm ready for some tours.

Lois on the Loose

While perusing the newly released books at our local library I came upon Lois on the Loose by Lois Pryce. Any book with a picture of a motorcycle on the cover gets my attention. This one recounts Lois's story of riding from Anchorage, Alaska to Ushuaia, in the Argentine province of Tierra del Fuego at the southern tip of South America.

Pryce has a lot of good stories to tell. I connected right from the start with her painfully familiar description of how the day-to-day workplace can feel if you would rather be riding.

I smiled at her experiences with other riders giving sage advice concerning the suitability of making the trip on a small, underpowered Yamaha XT225 Serow. I suppose holding the book in my hands refutes those judgments. Pryce does point out one leg of the trip that her little motorcycle wasn't up to but I seem to remember that involved riding at 14000 feet or something. She took the low road instead.

Making this trip largely by herself and without a formal support or backup systems seems remarkably courageous to me. I can't see myself doing it. I'm really glad she has the writing and storytelling talent to allow me to share the trip vicariously.

If you are interested in more information about the trip, book, bike, whatever, check out her Web site --- Lois on the Loose.


Sojourn Chronicles

D. Brent Miller, author of the Sojourn Chronicles blog recently interviewed me for a podcast, which is now available HERE.

Brent is planning to produce a regular podcast and you will find one with Carla King who like Lois Pryce had her own riding adventure. She made a solo-circumnavigation of the United States on a Russian sidecar motorcycle.

If you have a minute check out Brent's site and the podcasts.

Solitary Riding

Paul Ruby inside the Scarlet D in Mifflinburg, Pennsylvania

Nothing on two wheels surpasses the experience of riding alone. For me at least. Following or leading one or more other riders necessitates attention to the other riders, narrows choices during the ride, and makes the ride seem more mechanical to me. At its best riding is a respite from the demands and labor of the day. It is a temporary suspension of any need to respond to other people. Riding with another rider isn't terrible; it just isn't my first choice.

I seldom ride with anyone else. Not counting one scooter rally I can count on two fingers exactly how many other riders I have ridden with. When the ignition is turned off and we are talking, eating, or just looking around it's great. But on the road I guess I'm just selfish. I want to stop when I feel like it just to take a longer look at something. I've stopped to enjoy a fragrance of wet conifer trees or trees in blossom. I stop to look at the water shimmering in the sunlight of a creek running along the road. And I feel the desire to stop to photograph every solitary tree standing alone in a field. Riding with others I feel the pressure to keep moving whether that is actually true or not. Regardless solitary riding is a time when I do what I want.

Paul Ruby and I rode yesterday and I had a great time. But I watched many photo subjects move by. We planned to ride to a farm equipment auction about 50 miles away. The temperature was 38° F when I left the house and remained in the mid forties until crossing two ridges into Big Valley. The temperature rose steadily until we got to the auction site.

Auctioning in general and farm auctions in particular are one of those timeless activities in the rural areas of Pennsylvania. This one was no different. I saw the gentleman on the right had an ABATE insignia on his shirt and could not help but wonder how confident he was. Not much at all between his head and the road.

Leaving the sale and heading north along US 522 brought us past this growth of forsythia.

It was odd for so much of it to be growing along the road with no houses in sight. It surely is a sign that the cold weather is now behind us.

After a relaxed lunch at the Scarlet D in Mifflinburg, a piece of Fudgy Wudgy cake included, we headed home. The farmers have been busy preparing fields for planting and at times the landscape looks like a desert. When I look at this picture I can almost imagine riding in the southwest.

The rest of the way home was sunny with the temperature a comfortable 74. I pulled in the driveway with another 120 miles on the odometer but no new pictures save for the snapshots I post here. Those will have to wait for a day of solitary riding.

Photo Hunters --- Steps

I'd hoped to produce something original this week for the theme STEPS. Bad ideas and little time conspired together to force me towards my photography archive for an appropriate photograph. I made the picture of the ancient fire escape on the local Odd Fellows Hall almost 10 years ago. Those steps are intended to save a life.

My second choice was this wooden walkway that crosses a local wetland. Each time I look at it appears to ask to step across. I had some other ideas but they all seemed to involve parking my Vespa in front of a set of steps. If I could have thought of something even more stupid I might have actually made the picture.

The weather has warmed considerably the past couple of days. Today saw the thermometer pass the 70° F mark making riding relaxed and comfortable. I stopped on the way to pick up dinner at a local restaurant to photograph this old wooden clapboard building. I have seen it for years and have no idea what its for. Just looks neat.

On the way this evening to get some DVDs I stopped in the warm glowing of the setting sun. It's nice not to have to worry about my hands freezing every time I make an image. Tomorrow morning I plan to leave early to ride 60 miles to an auction with my friend Paul. From there I don't know where I'll go. Wherever it is I'm certain I'll have a good time.