2009 Triumph Street Triple: A Transformation

I'm not adventurous and my habit of pre-judging tends to torpedo new experiences. During the past 35 years at Penn State I can probably count on two hands the number of times I have not ordered chocolate ice cream at the world famous Berkey Creamery. I find something I like and I stick to it. And I draw a lot of conclusions from limited information and experience. It explains why my heart sunk last week when Craig Kissell suggested I try the Triumph Street Triple. I don't ride motorcycles like that. I hate that feet back riding position and I'm not interested in a machine that's described as a streetfighter or referenced along with smoking rear tires and sirens. In my head I knew exactly what this bike was and had no interest in riding one. I know what I like and this wasn't it. While my brain scanned Kissell Motorsports for alternative suggestions what came out of my mouth was, "Sure, I'll take it for a ride.".

Despite being narrow minded about choices I am quick to admit when I'm wrong. Not even a mile down the road I was smiling and telling myself that the Triumph Street Triple was fun. The riding position was different and my big clunky Wolverine boots weren't ideal for the shift level but those were merely minor adjustments waiting to be made. Even though it was fun to ride I was uncertain how it would hold up for a longer ride. By the time the motorcycle was parked in the driveway I was making plans for the next morning.

My body isn't as limber as it once was so before departing the next morning I spent 15 minutes stretching my legs and hips to help me adapt to the riding position which is decidedly more restricted than my Vespa. I was skeptical about how far I could ride comfortably. Since the Street Triple placed me in new, transformational territory, I figured I would add another element to the trip --- I would keep photography to a minimum. No frequents stops to look around and explore. This time I would just ride, chew up miles and have fun solely with the motorcycle. And I managed to spend a minimal amount of time on pictures, usually just making a quick shot when I had to stop to stretch or get gas. The ride was a no frills adventure.

Departure time put me on the road just after sunrise on a clear, mild morning. The first stop was just outside of Centre Hall, Pennsylvania to tie my shoe. And make a quick photo. At this point I was intrigued by the engine and transmission performance. The power was smooth, positive and relentless in any of the six gears available. I was able to manage at slow speeds when necessary and a twist of throttle transformed the Triumph into nothing short of a monster on the road. It's clear this motorcycle is made to move fast and hard down the road. The tires seemed to stick to the road and I could see why some riders may succumb to temptation and enter the riding realm of interest to the State Police.

On PA Route 192 east of Livonia I decide to stop and stretch my legs. I've only gone 32 miles but I'm still concerned that I'm suddenly going to cramp up in the still odd to me riding position. While stopped making the picture a young man in a pickup truck slows to inquire if I require assistance. I'm reminded of how often people have stopped to offer help over the years when I am out in the middle of nowhere making pictures. I guess motorcycles and scooters should be moving, especially so far from town. I give him the thumbs up and he returns the gesture and motors on as I continue on my way east towards the Susquehanna River.

My just ride and not take a lot of pictures plan wasn't perfect. I did putt around (if you call moving slow on the Street Triple putting) R.B. Winter State Park a bit and just had to make a photo as we entered the forest with the morning light streaming in. I'm a sucker for these pictures. Besides, it gave me another chance to see the instrument cluster on the Triumph come to life when I turn on the power--- the fuel system pressurizing and a futuristic sweep of blue lights around the tachometer make me smile as the bike says, "lets go.".

I planned to have breakfast at some yet undiscovered diner along the way. I passed several options in Lewisburg, Pennsylvania preferring to keep riding. I finally pulled off the road at a Pennsylvania Fish Commission launch area on the east side of the Susquehanna River. I needed to sit for a few minutes to to sort out some competing noise in my head. Breakfast was loud, fuel was quiet but persistent, and where I was going was just annoying. Undecided I sat on the Triumph looking for a sign of which way to go as two Harley-Davidson Road Kings roared by. While normally oblivious to other motorcycles on the highway save for offering a friendly wave in passing a light flickered in my head and I pulled onto the road in the direction of the Harleys. Working fast through the gears I closed the distance between us quickly and rode behind them until we reached an intersection where I paused to allow them to regain their independence and privacy. It was an unusual action on my part to chase someone down and I can only attribute it to the power available on this machine. As I sat at the intersection I reevaluated my behavior and made a note that I don't have to act on impulses -- especially on the road.

After adding several gallons of premium fuel to the tank I made a decision to follow the river south towards Harrisburg, a route I've not ridden before, and take the ferry across the river at Millersburg. I acted on impulse again, this time to make an unnecessary photograph of the Triumph outside an abandoned factory in Sunbury. It's how I imagine a Triumph, born in the industrial areas of England where red brick is king. A homage to my idea of a streetfighter.

Another picture, another required stop. This time to replace my gloves for a lighter, cooler, mesh pair of Triumph gloves. With absolutely no luggage space on the Street Triple I carry everything in my pockets -- camera, notebook, pen, extra gloves, cell phone, wallet, and extra ear plugs. Looking down the road at the absence of traffic I am again struck by thoughts of increasing speed. I've reached the breakin mileage point where I can add another 1000 rpms. Then I remember all the deer crossing signs I've passed and the knowledge that Pennsylvania holds the North American record for vehicle deer strikes. As pretty as Bambi is I don't want to run into her. Or him. Managing risk I continue on my way at legal speeds. And still smiling. Any objections I had about this motorcycle have evaporated and I am just enjoying the ride.

No excuses. I just wanted to make a picture. At this point I had ridden almost 90 miles and no longer had any concerns about riding position or seat comfort. Check and check. And I was losing a bit of my will to not make pictures. The photographer in me remains stronger than the rider. So I needed to look at the old Conrail car that someone had gone to the trouble of placing on their property. Couldn't figure out why they would go to such lengths to get it there and then let it decay. Photographically though it was a fine subject.

It was only 8 more miles to Millersburg and the Millersburg Ferry, the only remaining paddle wheel ferry crossing the river. The last time I made use of it was in the 1980s while working on a documentary film about water. On this day the ride across would be purely for pleasure.

The ferry sits along the shore at the bottom of a step dirt drive. I was hoping that the boat would be on my side of the river so I wouldn't have to wait too long to cross. All hope was dashed for a quick crossing when I pulled up and saw a hand written note "Not Working Today". I suppose I should be grateful. The deck looked a little more rickety than I remember and certainly was uneven to park a motorcycle. That sign saved me the unpleasant phone call to Craig Kissell, "You'll never guess where your brand new Triumph is. In the Susquehanna River. Yeah, that's right, the Susquehanna. Can I still have the Scrambler???".

Looking down river towards Harrisburg and the closest bridge at Clarks Ferry I had to make a decision of whether to head south or turn back and go the way I came. Without a map handy I chose to continue south to what had to be a closer crossing. The ferry would have to wait for another day.

Traffic increased as I traveled south and my stomach was making more frequent reminders about breakfast. Without the ferry crossing my time table was a wreck and I wanted to be home before 1pm. The next day was my daughter's wedding and I had some things to think about. So I abandoned plans for a sit down hearty breakfast and opted for the continental cuisine of a Sheetz cheese dog and a bottle of water. Enough fuel for me to get home.

If I had more time I would have chosen a leisurely route home to site see and make more pictures. With the press of time and schedule I chose to follow US Route 322 and see how the Street Triple performed on the 70 mile trip home. The route would provide a limited access busy highway for all but about 7 miles of the trip. While the bike had no problems flowing along with traffic it certainly wasn't at its best being buffeted about with neither fairing or windshield to help diffuse the air disruptions of a steady stream of eighteen wheelers on the road. The bike held it's own but the combination of wind and turbulence demanded a lot of attention at times. It was nice to know that a twist of the throttle would leap the bike forward and beyond things if required.

When I got home I had put just under 200 miles on the Triumph Street Triple, a machine that 24 hours earlier I had no interest in at all. It was a minor transformation and another lesson learned on the road, this one about judging books by their covers. The Street Triple obviously has the power and design to live up to its streetfighter reputation. But I found that it is just as accommodating to a non-streetfighting rider. And it is fun, really fun to ride. It may not be the all-around bike for my daily riding requirements but it may be for someone else who has no interest in farm lanes and forest roads. On the street, it's in its element.

2009 Kawasaki KLR 650: A Ride in the Fog

Finally, the first long ride on a Kawasaki KLR 650. Long an occupant of an imaginary world that finds me breaking out across empty deserts or untracked tundra in a never ending life of adventure. The fantasy roots in the same place that gave rise to my dreams of the Triumph Bonneville. After a near perfect experience on the Triumph I remembered the old adage that lighting never strikes twice in the same place. My expectations of the KLR were guarded.

Morning fog delighted the photographer but triggered concern for the rider. With limited experience on the tall KLR I spent some time weighing risk before finally heading down the road at 6:30am. The fog wasn't thick but quickly managed to cover my visor with dew while the inside began to fog. Cracking the visor open to allow air inside only succeeded in rendering my eyeglasses unusable. I've ridden on many foggy mornings but this was the first time I had serious visibility concerns. While making the photograph of the Kawasaki parked in the farm lane I was hatching a plan to get the shiny new motorcycle to the closest diner or coffee shop in one piece and wait for the sun to clear the road. I made plans to ride back to town and abandon any adventuring, at least for the next couple hours.

Another stop to clear my vision and make a photograph. With all the start and stop riding the KLR starts flawlessly with a touch of the starter button when warm and starts just as easily first thing in the morning with a flick of the handlebar mounted choke. If nothing else I was getting plenty of practice in creating muscle memory for the starting procedures.

Being more interested in riding than sitting a thinning of the fog was all I needed to continue on my journey out of town. My mind was plotting courses but I wasn't finding much excitement. The more I try and force a ride the less inspired they usually are. So I just gave myself over to the KLR and let it lead the way. At least until I realized I didn't know how much fuel I had on board.

There are few old mom and pop gas stations anymore and the ones I do see I'm not sure I want to pump their gas into my tank. So I pull into one of the modern Sheetz centers and put two gallons of premium in the tank. I forgot to ask when I picked up the motorcycle about the octane requirement. Premium would cover all bases. There was a bit of sunshine peeking through the fog and I made the decision to jump on the expressway west to get onto the Allegheny Plateau and some winding rural roads fast. And have a chance to see how the Kawasaki would perform at freeway speeds.

Up and out of the fog I found myself in a brief island of sunshine at the top of Bald Eagle Ridge. The KLR has plenty of power to move along at highway speeds though I did find myself wishing for a sixth gear though with the tachometer indicating just over 4000 rpm at 65 mph. A twist of the throttle would move the speedometer up quickly if necessary. The fairing and small windshield did a nice job keeping the ride comfortable. For me at least. I kind of like a blast of wind in the chest. Intermittent fog keep my speed in a safe place and my eyes constantly searching ahead and behind for vehicles oblivious to the decline in visibility.

Riding up onto the Allegheny Plateau west of Port Matilda I was was pleased to have clear skies and excellent visibility. I stopped hoping to find the perfect picture of the motorcycle along the road with a fog bank in the valley below. No such luck -- the fog burned bright from sunlight. I was a couple hours too late for that shot. Moving west on US 322 the fog returned along with an increase in traffic. A respite appeared in the form of a gravel road.

The Kawasaki KLR thrives on roads like these -- hard packed gravel and dirt that crisscross the forested heart of Pennsylvania. And that's why this machine fits my riding desires so well. I like to explore. I want to see what's down all those little roads and paths that veer off the pavement. And I want to explore the paved ones too. I know the KLR can support big rides, cross country rides that make epic, once in a lifetime journeys for some, or even once a year tours for others. Time and circumstance aren't stacked up for me right now to make those kinds of trips. Besides, I like to ride too much to live for infrequent vacations on two-wheels. I want to go now, right here, in my landscape. The more I see the more I realize remains to see. And with the KLR I'll be limited only by my own skill and drive.

The aggressive tread on the Dunlop tires are remarkably sticky even on the wet pavement. A little further experimentation with the brakes to see where wheel lock occurs gives me a lot more confidence on the tall bike. Stopping here to make a picture also revealed the need for me to exercise and stretch. By this point I had already been on and off the bike as many times as some riders might do in a week. Definitely need to revisit my physical conditioning. Why is it every time I think of physical condition I end up with bacon?

Breakfast at The Little Restaurant in Philipsburg will do nothing to enhance my ability to get on the KLR. I'm remembering the process of getting on a horse as a kid. It involved a little work. At 55 I'm working a bit to get on the KLR. It's worth it. It's a modern horse and I can go where I want.

After breakfast I'm uncertain of where to go next. Looking around I think I need to return to Philipsburg again for another meal with Paul. And then explore some of the other towns for additional food sources. The Kawasaki sounds pretty good starting up. I tend to like things quiet and routinely ride with earplugs, even with the Vespa, but do admire the big single cylinder engine. Pulling away the sound of the chain, transmission and engine all come together in a mechanical symphony that is pleasing to my ears. At the next stop I remove the earplugs to listen a little closer.

More dirt and gravel roads as I move through Black Moshannon State Park and Moshannon State Forest. With each passing mile my confidence grows in the motorcycle and my skills with it. The big tires deliver a solid, steady ride on the gravel roads. There is a lot to see if you have time to look.

At each successive stop the KLR feels more maneuverable. The time it takes to stop and park the bike is quicker. More mental energy is going into where to park rather than how to park. And I am loving the giant foot on the kickstand. Other than really soft ground I don't have concerns that the kickstand will sink down and drop the bike. Nice touch. No need to carry around a flattened beer can.

Wild trout live in this stream. Back at the main highway I saw a fisherman wading with fly rod in hand, focused on his passion in much the same way I was. The red flowers of the wild bee balm caught my eye. I'm glad I took a moment to climb down the back to the stream and make a picture. I don't do it enough when I'm riding. I look but seem to reserve the camera for the road and whatever I'm riding.

The morning is slipping away towards afternoon and I head towards home. I wasn't exactly sure where I was on the gravel roads but had a general idea of which direction I needed to go. Back on the pavement I put the KLR through it's last paces of the day by abandoning any further photography and just concentrated on riding. The Kawasaki was surprisingly agile in curves and responded with a kind of throaty rumble when I would twist on some throttle. The motorcycle had plenty left when I got to my riding limits. Just keep in mind that I'm not good but I am slow. I had a few chuckles earlier in the week reading an account of my Triumph riding that thought I did a little too much slow riding.

Slow riding, slow travel. I suppose that's what I am about. It fits my needs with camera and my desire to generally slow down my life. The Kawasaki, while perfectly able to lead a frenetic pace on or off the road, is equally comfortable carrying me along at my pace. It's a fine horse. A horse that I'd be content to ride for a long time.

If I had any concerns it was the fact that in a day or so I would be returning the KLR to Kissell Motorsports.

2009 Kawasaki KLR 650: Night Stop

Took a very short ride this evening on the KLR to get a feel for the headlights and how it feels on the road at night. Very nice ride. Made this photograph at 10pm.

For irondad: 25 seconds at F4, ISO 1250.

Stopped at the Pennsylvania Military Museum to make a photo of the bike. I was prepared -- had a little tripod and a flashlight with me. Even though this looks like some sort of weird daylight it was extremely dark and I needed the flashlight to see what I was doing. Learned a few things about night shots. A clear, cloudless sky will appear darker in the picture and the stars will show up.

And don't shoot when the moon is almost full. That is what causes those backlit shadows.

I'm working a a longer post about this bike. The executive summary-- I want a KLR. I knew I would like it but I didn't know how much. And probably for none of the reasons most KLR riders choose them. I'll put that post up on Monday evening.

2009 Kawasaki KLR 650: First Evening Ride

A gray, wet day seems an appropriate backdrop for a ride on a Kawasaki KLR 650, the next bike in the New Wheels in the Sticks project. The KLR has been on my mental radar for a long time as a sort of utilitarian do anything motorcycle. The Jeep of the two wheeled world. There is something satisfying in thinking there is nothing I could not do or place I could not go. Thanks to Kissell Motorsports I'll have the opportunity over the next few days to take the Kawasaki out on the road and see how it feels.

There wasn't much time to ride today, just a long loop around the valley to get a feel for how the big machine handles. I say big because the first thing I noticed was how tall the KLR is. I mean really tall. At just under 6'3" tall I felt like I was barely able to touch the ground. In reality I had no problem flat-footing the bike but it felt pretty high for the first 20 minutes until I became accustomed to it.

The past two bikes I've ridden had fuel injected engines and I have gotten used to just pressing the starter button and go. The KLR wanted me to give it a little fuel before it would start. And it wants me to open the fuel valve and even give it a choke when cold. The perplexed look on my face passed quickly as memories flooded back.

Like each new machine I ride I find a lonesome road to test out the brakes and stopping characteristics. In addition to clean, positive braking it was nice to know the aggressive tread on the tires worked well on the damp and wet pavement. The 650cc single cylinder thumper engine was a new experience. I intentionally didn't use my normal foam earplugs so I could get used to the sounds the KLR makes. I like to have some idea of what sounds right and what doesn't.

Didn't really have time for much riding this evening but I'm planning to leave early tomorrow to see how I like this big, tall motorcycle out in the sticks.

2009 Triumph Bonneville: Image, Myth and Ride

Why do I like this motorcycle so much?

I had to make a picture of the two of us to figure it out. Image. Part of the fascination with the Triumph Bonneville is the way it looks and the way I think I look with it. Let's say it allows me to pretend a part of me is like some of my boyhood heros on motorcycles. In an alley in downtown State College, Pennsylvania I found a location that reminded me of the urban landscapes that I pictured the Triumph. That's about as rough as it gets here. The back door of the Eddie Bauer store. But that is only part of the fascination with the motorcycle. There is a lot more to it than image and myth.

An early morning ride through familiar terrain gave me a chance to compare solitary riding on the Triumph Bonneville to the experience on my Vespa. My intent on the scooter is an unfolding of tension and disposal of noise gathered in my head through the week, an ongoing meditation on two wheels and I was anxious to determine whether I could achieve the same thing on the Triumph. Despite it's ability to charge down the road it was perfectly able to deliver a relaxed journey, a simple flight along these rural roads. Turning off the road onto a farm lane just to admire the morning light may not be typical Triumph riding fare but in a hectic world it is nothing short of magical. For me. Thundering down the road can wait until another day.

Final thoughts on the Triumph Bonneville. I want one. It's simple, elegant construction embraces my desire for a simpler life. The classic lines and design trigger the same motorcycle wanderlust now that I felt as a teenager wishing I owned something like this. On the road it handled flawlessly and never left me feeling unsure or unsafe. While it's power is seductive and speed deceptive a bit of mental adjustment on my part as a rider made this motorcycle mine to command.

Did I say I want one?

I returned the bike to Kissell Motorsports and I have to admit the childish part of my brain kept imagining Craig Kissell saying, "Aww heck, just keep it a while longer..." But there are more motorcycles to experiment with and so little time...

A Vicarious Ride on a Classic Triumph

Riding in Alabama - 74 Triumph Bonneville..still running strong from Casey Lee on Vimeo.

Stumbled on this video completely by accident. Took me back to the sounds and sights of my youth. Thought it was worth sharing...

Prisoner of Light

I remain photographically constricted because of my belief that dramatic light is an essential ingredient for a good photograph. In practice I photograph in all kinds of light and in the rainbow picture I made last week on a ride into town I see evidence that dramatic light does not make a dramatic picture. My brain tells me that good pictures are everywhere and do not require any formula of essential elements. But whispering deeper is some stilted, stunted core level belief in dramatic light. Perhaps it is a result of early exposure to Ansel Adams and Edward Weston. Wherever it came from it has an effect on my decision making. I am a prisoner of my own beliefs.

On clear days I often leave early to catch the low light which can render objects and landscapes in more dramatic fashion than the middle part of the day. I'm certain this plays a partial role in my habit of riding at dawn. Even if I am not making pictures I want to see the world change. Color and texture change rapidly in the morning. Spaces are more clearly defined. Last Saturday morning I put my Mamiya 7 camera in the Vespa and headed towards the mountains to make photographs. Not far from home I stopped to look at the road and the brightness beginning to consume it. The little point and shoot Canon camera makes recording these moments simply as my own visual sketching.

The transition from motorcycle back to scooter was invisible. The ride of the Vespa is plush; even on gravel. I've become more accustomed to riding on these forest roads and always find a sense of quiet satisfaction being able to move beneath the trees. And it didn't matter if I was not inclined to bring out the film camera.

Those of you familiar with Rothrock State Forest may recognize the switchbacks on the road to Little Flat. It's narrow and can be unnerving when the inattentive driver comes barreling down the hill in a truck or SUV. I would not want to attempt any off-road riding here.

Several stops to search for non-scooter pictures didn't reveal anything I cared to spend film on. The process was underway and by the next day had finished a new roll of Ilford black and white film. After digging through my desk I now have a total of four rolls awaiting the darkroom treatment. On this day though my thoughts turned (as always) to food. The Pump Station Cafe was only a few miles away.

Riding a scooter tends to offer some parking alternatives that a motorcycle does not. My Vespa is small enough to park right in front of the cafe on a little sidewalk. It looks like it belongs there. At least that's what I tell myself. While eating I jot notes on an index card about my troubles getting my head back into shooting pictures. I don't count the things I do for Scooter in the Sticks or at work. I judge myself, perhaps wrongly, by the photographs I make solely for myself. I hit these dry spells now and again and I just need to wade through them. Get past my thinking and get closer to doing.

And quit being a prisoner of light.

2009 Triumph Bonneville: Heading West Just After Sunrise

My friend Paul Ruby and I were on the road early with plans to ride west towards Clearfield to find a new place to for breakfast. I have begun to wonder how many riders make a ritual of riding to breakfast. Something like private pilots and the 200 dollar cheeseburger. A short stop at the Sunoco station on North Atherton Street where Paul could get gas for his motorcycle gave me a chance to admire the Triumph Bonneville. Again. In the light from the rising sun it just seemed to glimmer. Really. Well, I did do some interpretation in Photoshop but the bike does look good. I've dreamt about motorcycles that look like this. And so far it has lived up to my expectations.

The Bonneville is at home on the highway. Every bike or scooter I've ever ridden seems to have a riding sweet spot. A speed where the bike is completely relaxed, a mid-ground where you don't notice you're going slow and you don't notice you're going fast. For the Triumph it's between 50 and 60mph. (In my decidedly non-scientific estimation). Riding my Vespa GTS250ie I find it right around 45mph. Your results may vary.

I pulled over just as we approached the top of Bald Eagle Ridge on Interstate 99. I made Paul back his motorcycle up so I could admire the unobstructed view of the road and sky. This motorcycle loves this kind of road.

Another stop for a picture along US322 as it begins to rise into the Allegheny Plateau. With the clouds passing over the hills and valleys this area looks as much like parts of Virginia and North Carolina as it does Pennsylvania. My thoughts travel momentarily to imagined rides on the Blue Ridge Parkway.

The weather has been unusually cool this summer and the feeling of fall hits me even though it's July. When I left the house it was 59 degrees Fahrenheit and I was wearing my winter riding jacket with a liner. I love this kind of weather but it isn't fondly embraced by riders who like to travel unencumbered by too much clothing.

My riding style generally consists of slow, slower and stop. Stop for pictures. Stop to look around and just breathe in the world. It took me awhile to tame the Triumph's desire to go fast. While it does not have a huge engine it is entirely within it's power to go fast. It's deceptive and I had to keep a close eye on the speedometer to make sure the State Police would not want to take a closer look at the bike too.

If you want to see pictures on a ride you just have to go slow otherwise you will rush by all but the biggest landscape views. And by slow I mean 35mph. It's easier at 25mph and easier yet at 15mph. With a little practice and experimentation with the gearbox I was able to find a photo speed sweet spot. I don't ride that way all the time but some places call out for attention. So it's nice to know how to make myself and the bike comfortable.

Paul pulled into a gas station in Coalport for fuel and a chance to show off his back stretching regimen. No matter how many times I witness the ritual something just seems wrong. If you ever run into Mr. Ruby as him to tell you about the time he was stretching his back in McDonalds with a pack of Boy Scouts present. Then you'll understand.

Adding fuel to the Triumph is easy except for the trepidation of splashing gas on the mirror finish paint job. I was extremely careful but without knowing how much gas was in the tank or how much it would hold I went slow. At two gallons I stopped and replaced the shiny chrome gas cap without so much as a drop of gas to mar the finish. Have I said how pretty this black motorcycle is?

The search for food was not going well. Phillipsburg was a bust as was Oseeola Mills, Houtzdale, Madera and Irvona. By the time we stopped in Coalport my stomach was done riding. I was on autopilot to a known breakfast way station near Prince Gallitzin State Park in Flinton, Pennsylvania. Sir Barney's.

Sir Barney's has standard, reliable breakfast fare which is exactly what I needed. Eggs, bacon, potatoes, juice and toast. It's like my riding security blanket. The only meal of the day I can count on to make me whole and not put me to sleep. Maybe that's why I tend to ride in the morning.

Riding with a trusted riding partner like Paul has it's advantages over riding alone. You get to experience things twice. Once through your eyes and once through someone else's. While I was happy as a clam to have food he was concerned with the lack of interest the wait staff seemed to pay us. We got everything we needed but we didn't get characters. There was nothing memorable about the people working there, no fodder for stories or humorous anecdotes. As Paul commented, "They're 9 to 5ers.".

Ours were the only motorcycles in the parking lot. The Triumph and Harley looked good out there. And I was glad to be able to keep my eye on things. I'm still a bit apprehensive with Craig Kissell's generosity in loaning me motorcycles. I imagine a phone call..."I parked it right outside the diner. I was only there for 20 minutes. It's a family place. I can't imagine who took it...."

So I keep my eye on things. While I'm riding and when it's parked. Maybe that's why Kissell Motorsports trusts me with their motorcyle.

By the time I arrived at the home of my inlaws we had ridden 100 miles. The Triumph looked as good in their driveway as it did in mine. I think it would look good in anyone's driveway. It's just a cool, classic machine if your interests lean in that direction. As much as I would have liked to ride all day adult responsibilities beckon me home. Besides, there still was another 70 miles of riding ahead to help ease the pain...

I am completely comfortable with the Triumph Bonneville. The transition from scooter to motorcycle was effortless for me. Muscle memories of shifting motorcycles in the 1970s returned and I was at home astride this machine. I can't say enough good things about the Triumph so I'll just stop for now.

I have one more post on the Triumph reflecting on a short ride alone through the countryside. Look for that soon.

The Evening Meal

A slow, relaxed evening at home. A big, heavy box on the front porch containing a hammock stand for a Hatteras Hammock went together quickly and I was finally able to test the hammock Hannah got us for Christmas. Last year. Maybe the year before. I'm not one to rush things. After sufficient testing Kim and I decided to get dinner from Duffy's Tavern in Boalsburg. Nothing fancy -- a couple take out cheeseburgers and fries.

A short ride to the tavern and I see these three Ducati's parked out front in the motorcycle only parking area. With the Vespa watching over the motorcycles I talked briefly with three young riders waiting for a table at Duffy's. Seems they will soon be trailering their bikes to the Jersey shore to ride along the ocean at sunrise. Sounds like a fine way to spend time with friends. A fine way to spend time on two wheels.

One more thing to add to my riding list...

I'm working on the next installment about my time on the road with the Triumph Bonneville. Look for it sometime on Thursday.

New Wheels in the Sticks: 2009 Triumph Bonneville

On Friday afternoon I rode out of the parking lot at Kissell Motorsports with the first motorcycle in the New Wheels in the Sticks project -- a black 2009 Triumph Bonneville. This is a classic motorcycle, the one I picture in my head when I hear the word motorcycle. It's what kids draw when they're drawing a motorcycle. It's connected to memories of movies and Steve McQueen. Triumph has long occupied a special place in my imagination. The motorcycle is solid with a strong, deep exhaust sound without being obnoxious. Mentally I knew I wasn't on my Vespa but it took a few miles for my body to realize this new machine did not respond in the same fashion as the scooter.

The pavement was wet from a passing shower and the road surface was slick under my boots. I traveled a quiet route home to experiment with the brakes, weight and handling. Back and forth on an empty stretch of road to check the braking response on the wet road. Another few stops to fully reset my brain to use my right foot for the rear brake instead of my left hand which was now on clutch duty. I spent about 20 minutes evaluating my skills and comfort on the Triumph before heading towards home. It is important for me to take the time to embrace a new machine before any serious or extended riding. I've met riders who have chosen huge motorcycles as their first ride. Or have gone through the Motorcycle Safety Foundation Beginner Riding Course on a 250cc motorcycle and turn around after the course and buy a Goldwing. I like to build up to things. Maybe I'm just nervous about the leap in size and weight from the Vespa. So I was careful and deliberate with the Triumph. Even though Craig Kissell said not to worry about the bike and that he would assume any liability for damage I didn't want to see him cry.

As I write this piece I keep thinking I should remain cool, aloof, objective in my reactions to the Bonneville on that first evening. I tell myself not to gush or say anything stupid. Nothing poetic. Just the facts. One of the first things I noticed was the spartan simplicity of the Triumph. I found myself looking for the clock, ambient temperature and fuel gauges present on my Vespa. I didn't realize how often I my eyes go to them until they weren't there. The Triumph has a speedometer, a blue light for high beams, a small amber light when the fuel is low, and maybe a red light for low oil. That's it. With fuel injection there is no choke or fuel valve. Press the starter button and it starts. Right now. Simple. And without saddle bags you don't have to worry about carrying anything that won't fit in your pockets. At first I was a little bothered by that but by the end of the weekend I really enjoyed not having to think about what I need to take along. My luggage consisted of wallet in my pants pocket, some change in another, a point and shoot camera in my riding jacket pocket and some index cards and a pen in the other. That's it. For recreational day rides where weather will not be an issue it was fine. If this bike were mine I would add saddle bags at least and perhaps a rear topcase. Otherwise how would I haul all the groceries around that I do with the Vespa? Groceries don't really fit though with my image of the Triumph. Yet.

I only rode about 15 miles that first evening but enough to know that I really liked this motorcycle and was looking forward to an early departure the next day. I liked the upright riding position. I like the smooth even power that the fuel injected engined delivered. And I liked the way it handled on the road. And as if the universe was testing the Triumph and my riding skills I had to make a sudden evasive maneuver to avoid plowing into four chickens crossing Main Street in Boalsburg. Anyone can dodge deer and elk. But chickens, that's real adventure.

I'll be posting more pictures and reflections of a longer ride on the Triumph in a few days. Stay tuned.

New Wheels in the Sticks

Kissell Motorsports owner Craig Kissell has given me the keys to the candy store. Or so it seems to me.

Craig has offered me whatever I want to ride from his fine establishment and treat them like my own. At least temporarily. A chance to try some other machines in the sticks. Or maybe he was getting tired of seeing the Vespa all the time in pictures. I've been turning things over in my head since we first discussed this back in February and just recently decided to give it a go. Over the coming weeks and months you'll be seeing periodic posts bearing the title New Wheels in the Sticks with stories and photos reflecting my experiences with motorcycles and scooters that are not my Vespa GTS250ie. I'm not sure what to expect but am open to the adventure.

A few words about Kissell Motorsports.

You can find the dealership in State College, Pennsylvania on West College Avenue. It's the kind of place that has a lot of things I like.

Unless I have a specific reason to be there I tend to follow the same pattern in the store. Walk in and absorb the energy, scan the place for familiar faces, and then walk over to the Vespa section. After almost 5 years on a Vespa scooter they have not lost their luster. And Piaggio continues to deliver interesting machines. And colors. Like the Vespa GTS300ie in this picture.

On to the Triumph section, a quick look at helmets and then either a visit to a Kawaski KLR or off to the back where the pre-owned machines live. I'm predictable.

Things get dicey from this point. I glance furtively at the Ducati's for fear that I will be identified as unworthy of entering that section of the store. The Ducati's sit there oozing power. They are seriously imposing. I believe this to be true. I also believe that doughnuts or ice cream are fine for breakfast. I need to make some adjustments and modifications in things.

So Craig and I have worked out an agreement and we are embarking on a new project. Not only is he supportive of me riding his wares he's leaving it up to me to write what I think. I almost feel like a junior moto-journalist. More likely a moto-essayist. As I embark on this journey I'm curious as to what I will find out about myself and motorcycles. And how my obsession with the Vespa will fare in comparison. I'm also going to use this project to reach beyond what I usually do on the scooter and talk to people who ride other things. Find out what makes them tick.

The journey has begun. This past Friday after work I picked up a 2009 Triumph Bonneville. A not so secret love. I'll be posting reflections from four days of temporary ownership soon. And I'm already thinking about what I want to ride next.

Swear an Oath

I swear I will turn off my cellphone when I get in the car.

As much as I grumble about others using their cellphones while driving I use mine too -- kidding myself that it's safe because I have it tucked into the visor on speaker phone.

I read an article in the New York Times this evening that was a bit sobering. The article is called Drivers and Legislators Dismiss Cellphone Risk.

Read it. And better yet turn off your cellphone I guess. I know how easy it is to rationalize it being safe or necessary. A real time saving multitasking life extending invention. I've said those things. I don't believe them anymore. So I'll make a change.

I swear.

Revisited: Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

How many riders have a copy of Robert Pirsig's Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance on their bookshelf? How many more, like me, have struggled with the text, the philosophy, and failed to make it to the end of the book? The pages turn easily for me when Pirsig describes the ride, the road and the people he encounters. But I bog down in his discussions of the metaphysics of quality. And I wouldn't finish despite thinking it was a great book. Until now. Until I happened upon Mark Richardson's book Zen and Now.

It felt good to read that Richardson struggled with Pirsig's book just like I did. Many attempts at it, a bit farther through and then bogging down. Zen and Now is Richardson's excellent riding story and interpretation of Pirsig's book. After I finished reading it I picked up Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, read it from cover to cover, and got it. Knew what it meant and decided again what a great book it is.

Richardson decides to ride the same route, visit the same places as much as possible as Pirsig and his son did that summer in the summer of 1974. His book not only provides the kind of vicarious experience that a good writer and rider can produce it does an amazing job putting the Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance in a context that means something to my life and riding. Many riding books and stories push me as a reader to the sidelines as the author plays out the story on a stage. Richardson does something different. He brings me onto the stage and I feel as if I am part of the trip.

I don't often recommend books but this one is special. Check out Richardson's Web site for more information or click the Amazon link below to buy it. (If you do I may make my first 25 cents from Scooter in the Sticks!)