First Ride of a Warming Season

Standing in front of the brightly colored window I felt some elation that the temperature had soared to 60F when my friend Paul Ruby and I had stopped for breakfast at the Bird House Restaurant in Montoursville, Pennsylvania. I needed to believe that winter was falling quickly behind and spring was just around the next bend.

I underdressed for the ride thinking it would be warmer sooner. And I didn’t take into account the sudden changes in temperature that can occur in the mountains. When I stopped about 30 miles from home to send a Twitter in the Sticks update my fingers were beginning to get stiff at 50F in non-electric gloves. Riding over the first ridge the temperature indicator on the Vespa hit 62F only to drop to 42F a mile later as the road descended through a narrow valley. Luckily I had the Gerbing Electric gloves under the seat.

There are lots of curves and tight turns as the road moves north through the Tiadaghton State Forest. Moisture and sporadic remnants of gravel, salt, and sand made traction dicey in places. Paul and I stopped to make a few pictures and stretch our legs (and backs). It’s hell to get old.

I went through the curve another time so Paul could make a picture of me. I’ll never have to worry about dragging anything on the ground unless it’s hanging off the scooter because I didn’t pack something correctly.

Breakfast was simple and delicious. I think I enjoy it as much as I do the riding. This time I remembered to take a picture after only one bite of toast rather than the usual empty plate picture.

Paul waxes poetically about life, art, and poetry. And eBay. He makes his living on eBay and is not pleased with some of the changes made to that system.

Every poet-adventurer needs a brass compass. Across the street from the restaurant was an Army-Navy Store with a selection of them. This was a nice one as compasses go. But who uses them anymore?

A stop along the Wyalusing Path (US 220) on our way north to Eagles Mere. Scooters and motorcycles fascinate me as sculptural objects. I suppose it’s why I can continue to photograph the Vespa. One of these days I’ll exhaust that fascination but for now I’m content doing what I’m doing.

Paul made another picture of me – the well-prepared photographer – a Canon G9 around my neck and a Leica M6 in my right hand. Those electric gloves remind me of what the kids wear in the Family Circus comics.

Eagles Mere is an old Victorian resort community dating back to the late 1800s. We stopped to look at the toboggan run that is now closed for the season. The town closes off a long street that slopes down to the lake.

When we walked down and took a look at the run I could hardly believe the scale. The track ran far out onto the lake and I couldn’t imagine how fast it would be. I would have loved this as a kid. I might even like it now.

The ride home took us through a lot of still melting mountainsides, reminders of how much more severe the weather would be here. Once we emerged into the Susquehanna River Valley the thermometer was pushing 70F as we ran towards home. The Vespa GTS 250ie purred along the 43-mile freeway segment of US 220 at 70mph. Not the most relaxing way to ride but nice to know the scooter is capable of high speed travel for sustained periods of time.  It was nice to get out and put 205 miles of road underneath me.

It’s gotten cold and wet again but I’ve had a taste of warm weather and longer rides. Anything less will be frustrating.

A Simple Elegance

For me riding is both simple and elegant. Each aspect of the machine and the ride constructing a satisfying experience. It’s reflected in the simple construction of the picture I made the last time I stopped at Barnes and Noble. Every element essential but nothing extra. That’s what I pursue on my scooter in the sticks. It’s not a perfect path but one that generally leads me where I want to go.

Pizza is simple. Especially one that costs $5.. Nothing fancy after a hard day at work. Strap the thing to the back of the Vespa and go. But not until the manager runs out and warns me that all the cheese will run off at that angle.

It didn’t.

A last stop for crab cakes and salad hung simply on the purse hook. That’s right, it’s called a purse hook. I’ve not used it for that yet but it has carried a lot of other stuff. If simplicity is going to go out the window it’s often because of mental triggers like purse hook, Barbie scooter, moped rider, things like that. Or it should I guess. So far I’m impervious to that sort of positive critique.

I’m writing this just after dawn. It’s 54F and crying out for a ride. The weather is changing and spring is approaching. Last night on the way home I stopped to look at the light filtering through the trees. Something is different. The sun is moving. Or my attitude is changing through solar tempering. I’m waiting for my friend Paul to arrive to we can head north. Or east. Somewhere. Anywhere. It’s just good to get out for once when I don’t have to worry about frostbite.

3 Prints Project; March 1, 2009

On Sunday morning Gordon Harkins and I shared our 3 Prints Project work at Saint’s Café. I arrived with contact sheets from two new rolls of film and three gelatin silver prints. Gordon surprised me with 24 small prints of the work he plans to include in the Blurb book we’re working on that portraits the first year of work. His photographs are quiet, complex reflections of how he sees the world. In my opinion.

My first print this week was made during a walk with my dog. As she approaches her 16th birthday the image has an uneasy feeling for me.

The photograph of the house was made in Lewistown, Pennsylvania as I waited for my youngest daughter at the train station. A woman emerged from the house with baleful looks for the camera and me. In character I sheepishly put the camera down and missed the best shot.

Kim was paging through books at Barnes and Noble. I still enjoy photographing her but I have lost speed in responding to subjects. I have trouble tripping the shutter fast enough.  Often by the time I am ready the moments have passed.

Practice makes perfect.

Taking Steps to Be Safe

Common sense, exposure to others with greater skill and experience, training, practice and enough humility to be honest about our own ability and limitations. That’s all you need to be a safe rider. Simple. Easy. All but that last part.

I don’t have any simple formula for humility or honesty when it comes to riding and safety. I suppose we each come to it in our own way, some quickly, some not so quickly. I feel fortunate to have crossed paths with several people who have steered me in the right direction – for me. Learning to ask questions related to personal skills, habits and beliefs is a good first step. A healthy measure of suspicion of riding truths and beliefs might be a good second one if you can manage it. There are a lot of sacred cows out there. Some are worth keeping but others need slaughtered. (I heard my boss utter those words in a recent meeting.)

So what am I doing kneeling on the road. That has to be safe right? Consider it an editorial illustration stressing the importance of paying close attention, which in this case is a check of the road surface. Whenever the temperature is near the freezing mark or lower I have a personal ritual of walking out in front of the house and checking for ice. Not on my hands and knees but a quick stroll and some twisting of my boots on the pavement to gauge traction. Not a perfect test or necessarily relevant to what’s over the hill but it does get my brain consciously thinking about why may lie ahead. With so many hills and dales and trees overhead conditions can change suddenly and dramatically. After a day of rain and temperatures dipping into the 20s during the night I knew ice might be a possibility. I was pleased to discover that everything must have evaporated during the night and the road surface was dry and illuminated by bright sun under a clear sky.

It’s just one thing I do to try and make my ride safe.

Sometimes I stop by the local training course used by the Pennsylvania Motorcycle Safety Program for their Basic and Advanced Rider courses. All the paint and numbers would be a hopeless jumble had I not already been through the courses.

I’m not sure if the piles of Styrofoam panels are a new obstacle on the course or just being stored there temporarily until classes start in the spring. I was able to avoid hitting the pile and spent some time navigating through the course.

I think I may register again for the Advanced Rider Training to polish my skills. I’m never sure what I may have forgotten.

Why I Hate Riding

I hate riding into the driveway and putting the scooter away. I hate riding past a good place for breakfast. And I hate riding without enough time to stop for every picture I want to make. I have a lot of hate wrapped up in riding.

The ride to work this morning unfolded in a gentle rain with temperatures in the mid 40s. After so much cold winter riding this was heaven. Nothing to hate about a little rain.

I stopped once during a leisurely ride home from work to take this picture. I was thrilled to not find my hands numb from the cold while handling the camera. Spring can be measured by the amount of ungloved time that can be reasonably contributed to photography.

I found one more thing to hate after I got home. Not sure how many of you suffer from the 10 pounds of change syndrome, you know, all the change received from a hundred stops all piled together in one pocket of your riding pants, and when you take them off 5 out of 10 times that change exits a magically un-Velcroed pocket and falls to the floor in a frustratingly wide pattern. It happens at home. It happens at work.

I hate that.

3 Prints Project Update

Despite not writing a word about this since April 2008 the project has continued. This evening I was processing film in the darkroom. Back in November photography ground to a halt as my friend Gordon and I began to edit our images and put together a Blurb book. For me that's a difficult process and one I go to great lengths to avoid. I'm finally wrapping up work on the 24 or so images that will appear in the book reflecting my experience with the project.

It's good to be back in the darkroom processing film. This evening it was two rolls of 35mm Ilford HP5 processed in ZonalPro film developer. A heady affair with a new Nikon D700 digital SLR camera keep my Leica M6 in the camera bag for a long time but now we're back together, the Leica my primary creative sketching tool. The D700 is an amazing tool and can do things I did not think possible. But after the glow of newness faded I found it cold, empty, and without the magic I feel shooting, processing film and making prints in a darkroom.

Darkrooms are cozy places and maybe sometime I'll try and make a picture that depicts that feeling. But even with the lights on a see a lot of comforting things around. And once the lights go down, the sound of water running, and some soft music, well, it is a great place to work.

Weather and the Calculated Risk

At 5:15 PM when I left my office the Vespa was coated in a glistening sheen of ice. How I got there and what I would do next was a result of calculating risk. Standing by the scooter I could see traffic moving on wet, slushy roads. Heavy skies reduced light levels. With temperatures hovering near freezing and moisture in the air I knew visor fogging would be an issue. My brain was working, trying to calculate my next action.

Weather is predictable to a point. In warm weather unexpected changes in temperature or precipitation are challenges most often met with gear adjustments and minor changes in riding. Unexpected changes in cold weather involve more risk and can't be overlooked.

I stood outside with the dog in the morning weighing the pros and cons of riding to work. The forecast called for two brief periods of snow or sleet followed by rain later in the evening. The road was dry and the skies looked heavy but no hint of moisture yet. I made the decision to ride to work knowing that it could get worse when it was time to go home. I had my usual backup plan ready --- park the scooter in the parking garage and take the bus home.

By mid-afternoon what I thought would be a passing flurry or shower of sleet had developed into something more persistent. I kept an eye on the street outside my window and the progress of traffic. I was already calculating risk. When I walked outside at the end of the day it was decision time.

The accumulation of sleet and snow in the parking lot would be heavier than anyplace on the ride home. It was the safest place to test for traction and just a tiny bit of throttle pushed the rear wheel sideways. Head up, eyes forward, and gentle throttle would be the rule of the ride.

Two stops would slow me down, one for fuel, and a second for cash at the ATM. Walking back to the scooter with a pocket full of money I met a good Samaritan. A neighbor saw the scooter and me and thought I might need a ride home. My experience on the road for the past four years have brought many would be good Samaritans. It's nice to know that help is available if needed. In this case I politely declined and thanked him for the offer.

By the time I pulled into the driveway it was almost dark, I was tired, and the sleet was still coming down. The ride home was not as bad as other unexpected winter rides but it did require constant attention and adjustment. And more than a few four-wheeled vehicles had to practice patience as I made my way down the road slower than they would like to go. Definitely below the posted maximum speed limit for ideal conditions. Not many people look at those signs that way.

For those of you who have not been caught on the road when snow or sleet appears the pictures look more daunting than the actual ride. I made a careful assessment of the road surface and knew there would be adequate traction, options for ways out of situations with other vehicles, and enough experience to negotiate other hazards on the way.

I suppose the lesson here is to look beyond the image of sleet and snow and really see what is there.

Rider as Romantic

Yesterday I sat in the Terminal Cafe after a morning of riding and searching for the right Valentine's Day gift for Kim. In my head I was writing a message for a card I picked out, how I would reveal the gift, and imagining the day. Looking at the couple across the street I imagined the two of us. Romantic.

The dictionary lists several definitions for romantic. There's the obvious we associate with Valentine's Day. But another describes, in part, the draw I find in riding.

ROMANTIC: Marked by the imaginative or emotional appeal of the heroic, adventurous, remote, mysterious, or idealized.

That's riding for me and many others. Yesterday morning the romantic was at work as I rode off to search for a rock to give to Kim. What I was after would not be in a store.

By the time I got to the cafe a coating of new snow covered the ground. Secondary roads, streets, and alleys in town were snow covered. The main roadways were mostly wet but a thin film of slush was building up in places. Had I started any later I probably wouldn't have been able to find what I was looking for.

I should probably explain the rock. I've been looking for several weeks for the right one. I'm not sure how many other men and women would be content giving or receiving a rock. It won't make many retailers smile or assist in an economic recovery. But Kim and I find satisfaction in the graceful elegance and beauty in rocks and stones. I've brought home 800 pound ones to ones the size of something that will fit under the seat of the Vespa.

Kim has designed a transformation of our property from perfect turf to woodland garden and rocks are an integral part of the landscape. I made this photograph of Kim during a walk last weekend. Exploring fields and forests fuels ideas that she introduces into our woodland garden.

Riding can reflect the same grace and elegance found in a stone. And it can trigger thoughts and feelings consistent with the second definition of romantic. This morning was an adventure. Gray skies and the thermometer hovered near the freezing mark when I left in the house and rode into the mountains.

I knew what I was looking for but uncertain where to find it. A small rock or stone transportable on the scooter with the right character and personality. Perhaps something with moss growing on it, a small fern, or a lichen. Sometimes you can find them along a creek.

Snow began to fall as I rode off onto an old fire road. My concentration in finding a stone was broken by concerns that the roads might become more hazardous if I remained too long. Part of my attention focused on rocks and part on the weather. Ten minutes of examining the floor of the woods and still nothing. Snow started to build up and it was apparent that I needed to go.

Snow is an indicator of risk and when it falls I monitor things constantly. My Motofizz bag was accumulating snow. The temperature indicator on the Vespa read 30 degrees. It was only a matter of time before the roads would be covered.

I planned to head straight home but could not pass a large rockfield for one last look. Climbing up the steep hill with patches of ice hidden under leaves and in crevasses I wondered what would happen if I took a bad fall with no one around. It was a few miles from here, up higher on the mountain that Kim fell and broke her leg and I had to carry her down to the car. A touch of the front pocket of my riding pants confirmed I had the cellphone. My emergency backup plan.

I found a rock.

Back at the scooter I knew two things. I had the rock I was searching for, and the road was completely snow covered will more falling faster now. It definitely was time to ride. Out of the mountains and into the valley the snow continued to fall but wasn't accumulating much on the main road so I decided to ride into town for breakfast at the Terminal Cafe.

The road home was quiet, comfortable, and open for thought. The temperature was above freezing now and the snow was fading. All that was left was to write in a card what I had developed in my head during the morning. Red sealing wax on the envelop and an impression from a special, romantic wax seal would complete my ideas for the card. I had to stop for one last picture, to stand and look out over the landscape and let the morning replay in my head. The riding, the romantic.

I hope you find the romantic in life, in your relationships, and in riding.

In Case of Rain

Some mornings there is no thought process involved in the decision to ride.  I knew I would ride when I got out of bed.  No weather checks, no thoughts of parking or things I would need to haul, I just went through the motions of putting on my gear, pushing the scooter out of the garage and starting it up.  The only break in the flow was when I sat down in the driveway to make a picture.

The orange low fuel light came on so I had to divert for some Nascar approved fuel at the local Sunoco station.  Fuel prices are beginning to creep back up.  I'm hoping they stop before crossing the $4 mark again.  I suppose I am in the internal combustion game for a while yet.  Just spent nearly $3000 for two cylinder heads on my truck and all the associated stuff that goes along with that.  Still cheaper to repair than buying a new one.  Or even a good used one.  But I would have rather put that money towards a Piaggio MP3.  Or a trip across the country on the Vespa.  Or anything else.  Geez.  But I digress.  

I wondered whether the snow would be gone from the motorcycle spaces when I turned into the parking lot.  A few warm days took care of most of it.  The Vespa sat all alone today, none of the other riders are ready to come out and play.  I didn't care though.  I was just glad to be back on the road.  The only unexpected event was it started to rain in the middle of the day.  I looked out the window and thought "how did I miss that?".  But then it's just rain.  Rain isn't an issue for riding, just a variation in the day.  I'm always up for rain.  

Just in case.

Battery Tenders Enable Lazy Riders

The past month many days the roads were a mess. Even for four-wheeled vehicles. No fear here though for the Vespa is fine in the garage connected to a Battery Tender, slowly slurping juice from the Allegheny Power grid. I’m relaxed.

Content.

There were days when the roads were mostly free of slippery stuff. Certainly in the range of routine riding in previous winters. The scooter is on the Battery Tender though. The battery will be fine if I wait for a better day to ride. It’s still cold outside, well below freezing, and I do have a Battery Tender…

I realize now how much of my winter riding was, in part, motivated by a desire to keep the battery charged. By not wanting to winterize the Vespa. I never liked the idea of taking it out of commission for months at a time. Now a Battery Tender has come into my riding life. Like indoor plumbing and hot showers. Once you have them you can’t easily go back. You get soft. Complacent. You start having wussy thoughts --- GPS, chrome accessories, and worse.

I left this morning at 45 degrees Fahrenheit. Brrr, cold. Water on the road, My Vespa might get dirty. It’s windy. Now it’s 50 degrees and I think I should go home. The sun is out but I believe 50 degrees is chilly. I need to stop somewhere and get warm. Get my head on straight. Damn Battery Tender. I’ve turned into a riding wimp.

It turned me into a riding wimp.

I just sat with a cup of tea and jotted down some notes so I would not forget my wimpdomization. Make sure I recorded what was happening to me in case I needed to call a cab home. Crazy.

And then, on the way home, it happened. I sensed a shift. Any concerns about cold, weather, water, it all evaporated. I was a rider again. Maybe it wasn’t the Battery Tender. Maybe it was the weather, the desert of riding experiences of late all piling up in my head like it was my fault. Good old brain is always plotting.

I rode into town tonight. Temperature dropping near freezing but I had a few errands to conduct. And I was set on riding. That’s the way it should be. It's good to be on the road again.

And the Battery Tender isn't plugged in, just in case.

Revisiting Risk: Thaw Then Freeze

That's what I look like after a mistake in judgment. I look pretty much the same when I make the right choices. I'm careful choosing the days I'll ride. But I do make mistakes.

Impatience to ride and choosing to believe the sunnier of two weather prospects contributed to an error in evaluating the risk of riding this morning. And there was also the fact that I ignored the direct evidence that the driveway that was wet last night was ice this morning. Ignoring that I walked to the road to find dry, salty pavement. In my head I'm repeating the weather forecast, "…near 50 degrees this afternoon…" I'm standing in the road, it's 8 AM and the temperature is 27 degrees Fahrenheit.

On the road I am thinking about breakfast and not the ice. Out of town and into the countryside I begin seeing intermittent ice strips along the road from streams of water that ran during yesterday's thaw. I'm still not processing the data. Instead I point the scooter straight ahead across the ice, these patches that are still narrow. Breakfast in Centre Hall or Bellefonte? Ten miles or fifteen? My stomach is managing the ride.

A 50-foot wide swath of ice. Yesterday is was liquid water but now it is a big stop sign. It's not a little patch of ice. It's not black ice which has more traction to it than this stuff. It's shiny deep ice.

This is how a rider manages shiny ice:

• Pull over and stop
• Look in the mirrors for traffic
• Push up the visor and admire the ice
• Say to yourself "What the f…??"
• Decide not to ride to Centre Hall or Bellefonte for breakfast
• Admire the ice some more
• Sigh
• Begin picking out the least slippery path across the ice
• Cross the ice

Right, cross the ice.

There's an element of machismo in riding. Perhaps less on a Vespa but it's still there. It evaporates crossing ice. Anyone watching knows you're an idiot. Or worse. Feet down pattering around as the scooter moves forward slowly searching for just a tiny bit of traction from a stray piece of gravel. The scooter moves in directions is shouldn't, boots find no purchase. Constant attention to the mirrors for traffic. I am fortunate in my little world that traffic is minimal to non-existent. No one is watching. I don't just look stupid doing this, I am stupid. Poor decision-making back in the driveway.

Over the next two miles I repeat the process a dozen times as each ice hazard seems to become more complex, like a puzzle book or increasing difficulty. My brain is working now to determine an ice-free route. That means a main traffic artery where use and excessive salt will mean less likelihood of ice. A half hour later I am at Barnes and Noble. Not the breakfast I planned but one requiring a reasonable amount of risk.

I sat and wrote this down before I forgot what happened. I like to forget things that don't go my way or illuminate me in a bright, positive light. It's one of the unexpected benefits of blogging -- learning something about how I operate. While I successfully managed the risk on the road I did not do a good job managing the consideration of risk to determine if I would ride. The mistaken application of a weather forecast for later in the day, ignoring the significance of ice in the driveway, and allowing my desire to ride cloud my judgment, all worked together to produce a failure in managing the risks I am willing to take.

I learned some things today. And I did bring home a giant chocolate chip cookie.

Revisiting Risk

Morning Fall
by Edward McGinty

I've been working on a piece related to risk and the potential price of riding. It's the sort of thing that makes family and spouses uncomfortable but bears consideration by anyone who ventures out on two wheels. Denial is not a useful tool in managing risk.

I've reposted the Morning Fall video that I shared over two years ago. It helped me think about risk and consequences and has focused my attention (again) on managing my skills and expectations wisely. If you have not seen it before it is worth watching. And if you have, maybe it will rekindle your own desires to be a better rider.

I should be posting my new risk piece over the weekend.

Frigid Riding and the Battery Tender

It was cold yesterday morning. The kind of cold that makes my dog hesitate at the door. Accuweather said it was -4 Fahrenheit. Too cold to ride. The road was dry and white from salt and the sun was coming up in a clear blue sky. Its been almost two weeks since the last time the Vespa was on the road and more snow was forecast for later in the day. Even if I had wanted to ride the Vespa wouldn't start after sitting in an unheated garage for so long. As I made my way through shredded wheat mixed with almonds, blueberries, and raisins I wondered if my riding clothes could deal with subzero temperatures. They're all hanging in the garage. Probably frozen solid. Besides, it was four degrees below zero, no fun riding in that. And the scooter probably wouldn't start.

Probably.

The headlight came on when I turned the key. Looks bright. That's a good sign. A touch of the starter button and a few extra cranks of the engine and it came to life. I could ride if I wanted. Shortly I was geared up and pushing the scooter through the snow to a relatively clear spot in the driveway. The Vespa's ambient temperature indicator is flashing 11 degrees. A quarter mile later it was flashing 2 degrees. After some slow travel on secondary roads to make sure everything was working properly in the cold I pulled onto PA Route 45 with the indicator blinking 0 degrees. This was the coldest I had ever ridden.

My gear was doing a good job keeping the cold out. The only real problem was the ice building up inside the visor. Cracking it open does not clear ice as it does fog. Riding at 50 mph was out of the question so I had to breathe carefully to keep it at a minimum. The indicator blinked -2 degrees, the lowest it would go during this ride. Ten miles from home the tips of my fingers were beginning to get cold despite my Gerbing electric gloves on full power. Fourteen miles from home I decided it was time to turn around and find some warmth.

Sitting at a booth in a local convenience store I was content to hold a cup of hot chocolate, fingers wrapped around the paper cup absorbing heat from the hot liquid. Even the hot BBQ sign warmed my spirits.

After a quick stop at the veterinarian's office to get some special dog food I pulled into the parking lot of Kissell Motorsports to look at a Battery Tender. In the past I relied on frequent riding to keep the battery charged but the harsher winter will eventually kill the battery. Keeping the GTS on a trickle charger makes sense today. The addition of a Gerbing adaptor will allow me to plug into the outlet for my gloves.

It's hard to explain riding in cold weather. I don't think you can. You have to experience it. And with the proper gear. Otherwise it will be miserable. I was reading an article this morning in the January 16 edition of the New York Times about climbing Mount Washington in the winter. One of the climbers describes the experience, "There's a simple purity in all that quiet". I find that riding in general but especially in winter.

The snow has been coming down all night and the roads are bad. Until they clear the Vespa can sip on milliamps.

Nourishing the Riding Fantasy

NOTE: The Bronson videos keep vanishing from youTube so this one is not the original that motivated this post. Since so many are removed I can only imagine someone who still owns the rights is prowling the Web looking for infringing uses.

In the dead, icy, cold of winter it's hard to stay in touch with riding, even for someone who does ride through much of the cold weather. I found a dead link to a youTube video on one of my old posts and while searching for a replacement I found this exquisite piece made up of footage from Then Came Bronson. After watching it I remembered some things...

Back on the Road Again

After lunch today my daughter dropped me off at Kissell Motorsports so I could be reunited with my Vespa. The rear master cylinder arrived during the holidays and they installed, checked, and tested it so I was ready to go. When you are used to riding constantly it feels like forever to be without something to ride, even if it is for only a couple weeks. A couple weeks at Christmas when the whole world is busy with other things anyway. The weather was cooperating too with partly sunny skies and temperatures hovering around 35 degrees for my ride home.

Walking into a motorcycle dealership is a bit disorienting. For me at least. You never go right to the service counter but instead do one of those Family Circus kid coming home from school routes through the place. I do a slow stroll through the Vespa’s until the Triumph’s catch my eye. I imagine what it would be like to take the Bonneville T100 up Rattlesnake Pike, or the 2009 Kawasaki KLR up along Pine Creek. I pretty much find I can create a fantasy to accompany any vehicle in the place. Sure, I have my favorites, but a person needs to be flexible.

Craig Kissell, owner of Kissell Motorsports, must see a lot of these Family Circus walks. We try to stay cool and act like adults but I’m sure he sees eyes drift off into imaginary rides when someone stands too long near a Triumph or Ducati. I pause too long near and ask too many questions of a brand new, flat black MP3500. I know that he knows that I like this scooter. He tells me to take it out for a ride. Part of me wants to but another part of me knows I don’t need to be obsessing right now about anything else. I am already coveting an Epson 3800 printer. And a new computer. But that’s a story for another day. I resist the temptation but I do allow Craig to take a picture of me on the MP3. I’ll have to delete that image. If you are out for a ride in Central Pennsylvania is is worth making a stop to look around at all the good things at Kissell Motorsports. Unless you don’t like having that old, kid-like, toy store experience.

The Vespa is ready to go and the extended warranty I purchased covers all the repair costs save for a small deductible. That was a nice surprise. When I pulled out onto the road I was surprised at how powerful the GTS is. It really jumps when you twist the throttle. I had plans to ride straight home but I always get distracted by some view or little winding path. After one short detour down a dirt and cinder road to test out that rear brake I did make a beeline home.

It’s nice to be back on the road.