Sunday Jaunt

Not every ride can be long and filled with adventure. This past Sunday's ride was a quiet, easy 80 miles under clear skies. Paul suggested we meet at Saints, one of the local coffee shops at the crack of dawn. For me that would normally mean 5:30 AM but for Paul that means 8 AM, the first opportunity to buy the Sunday edition of the New York Times. My own mental planning didn't go beyond finding somewhere new to have breakfast.

During one of our stops to look for pictures I share with Paul my interest in riding to Georgetown South Carolina to visit an aunt and uncle and invite him along. He's mildly interested though concerned about the durability of his back for a multiple day ride especially if it means long days with me lollygagging along on back roads taking pictures.

Riding a new route that parallels Interstate 80 through bucolic Amish farmland we head towards Mill Hall. It's pretty easy picking out the Amish farms --- no power lines to the buildings and teams of horses or mules in the pastures. On a Sunday the horses get the day off save for the one powering the buggy going to church.

By accident we come across the Train Station Restaurant. It's in an old train station and still has an old caboose out back. A sign on the door indicates they will be closing their doors in a few weeks to move to a new location. I heard chatter that the entire station would be moved down the road a half mile. That seemed a little over the top for a little mom and pop restaurant but I'll check back.

After breakfast I heard the siren song of the lawnmower so we made our way home without further photography or stops. Some days riding just has to take a backseat to other more pressing personal responsibilities. Seems like an indication of personal failure.

Then Came Bronson

Of everything I have ever watched on television the short opening to Then Came Bronson has resonated with me since first seeing it in 1969. It reflects the riding mythology that lies within me and affects my ideas and choices as I ride today.

The interchange between Bronson and the tired commuter sets up freedom that riding can offer and it just grows from there. Despite the physical gap between the Sportster than Bronson rides and the Vespa GTS that moves me through the world the there is an undeniable parallel for me.

This replica of the Sportster used in the show appears on a Then Came Bronson fan site. Its worth a look.

I suspect the themes in Then Came Bronson are not universal in riding. I've spoken to enough owners of motorcycles now to know that riding is not always first on their agenda. The thought of riding along through a saltwater surf and sand would be a horror only a few steps away from the gates of hell for some and a pointless exercise for others interested in speed and cornering.

And I am not sure whether the idea of riding away from the burden of the mundane is uniquely an American story or not. I certainly see parallels with Hermann Hesse's Knulp though without the Harley.

I posted this because I can't get the image out of my head. I can still see myself on that Sportster. Even when riding my Vespa. Last night on my way to the grocery store I was thinking about it. The machine and the road stretching out in front of me.

I've posted before about this and the youTube videos go away fast. I can only suspect that someone owning the rights to the show are exerting some influence. Someone told me about a place I could purchase the series on DVD but they are no longer available. Someday I will be surprised though and see them available on Netflix.

Scooterless in the City

No riding this weekend because I helped moved my youngest daughter Aleta and her boyfriend Enzo move to New York City. Following the U-Haul along in my Ford Ranger did offer an extended cage experience and the first time driving in an urban area since acquiring the Vespa.

Traveling east along Interstate 80 I became fully aware of how isolated I am behind the wheel. Those extra few feet between me and the road cuts off a lot of sensory experience. In its place comes a refocusing of attention on the radio, the temperature control of the air conditioner, the map, the seat position, and the cruise control. The world passes by and I hardly realize it.

Higher speeds are a given on the Interstate as we travel along at a consistent 70 to 75 MPH. And that just keeps us up with most of the traffic. I am surprised at how many motorcycles pass me at speeds I can barely attain on the Vespa with little or no protection. A great many riders on cruising bikes headed towards the Pocono Raceway seemed right at home at 80 MPH with nothing protecting their bodies other than hair, T-shirt, and sunglasses. We all make decisions about the level of risk we are willing to assume and describe to ourselves the outcome of an unfortunate incident on the road. I suppose these riders just tell themselves they are going to die.

All trips require nourishment and this was no exception. What better way to complement the elegant travel by Interstate highway than a stop at White Castle. I had not been to one since the 1980's and I think I'm good now for another 25 years.

The rate of progress began to diminish as we approached the George Washington Bridge. Flashing signs a few miles from the bridge indicated a 90-minute delay to the tollbooths. Fortunately they were wrong and we only had to wait about 35 minutes. And traffic wasn't even bad. I turn the radio off so I can fully experience the new driving patterns, habits and techniques that do nothing less than astound me. Even though traffic is moving at less than 10 MPH vehicles jockey for position and advancement across four lanes hoping to pick up a hundred yards of distance by the time we get across the bridge. What's more amazing is how polite everyone seems about the cut ins and cut offs. I rarely hear a car horn and never once saw a hand raised in singular gesture.

Across the bridge and through some sort of tunnel brings us to an exit heading towards the Triboro Bridge and Queens. More traffic and my first views of riders splitting lanes. I don't think it's legal in New York but there is no way a police car will ever catch someone in this traffic. And again the lane splitting is met with quiet acceptance and I even see cars swinging wide to let the riders advance more easily. New Yorkers really are polite.

We finally get to our destination around 6 PM and start to unpack. This view is from the third floor apartment to which all the contents of the U-Haul and my Ford Ranger must go. And there are no elevators or air conditioning. But with the help of roommate Tara we manage to get everything upstairs in record time and I don't drop over in the process. All moved in (but nothing unpacked or put together)

I bid my farewells to try and get out of the city before dark and make my way home to the safety of the sticks. As complicated as the path into Queens was to find the apartment I find my way back without incident or loss and onto Interstate 80 traveling West just as it starts to get dark.

The moving took more of a toll on me than I thought and my night vision doesn't seem as powerful as it once was so when it started to rain it was time to pull into Holiday Inn Express around midnight. That didn't last long though when I was told a room with tax and fees would be almost $160. I pay less than that for a place right on the beach in Maine.

Suddenly I'm not so tired and I can see all right. Another 25 miles and I know I have to stop and a rest area serves as my respite. It took a few minutes for my 53-year-old 6 foot 2 inch body to find a comfortable sleeping position in the cab of a Ford Ranger but when I did I went out for 5 hours.

Up before dawn and on home rested and satisfied with the trip. I thought about how I could visit Queens on the Vespa but I'm not sure I would want to make that trip. I have to admire those of you who deal with city riding on a regular basis. At least on the expressways in cities. For now I think I will remain scooterless in the city. Amtrak has a nice train that goes from here to New York.

Keeping Up with the Big Machine

Last Sunday morning I rode 153 miles with my friend Paul Ruby to see how the latest addition to his two-wheeled fleet performed. Paul just purchased a 2000 Kawasaki Concours which joins his Vespa and Ducati as riding options.

Arriving at his place at 8AM found the Concours still under wraps and the Ducati up on a jack. Paul came out the door, cast aside the cover and we were on our way - almost. Before the ride could commence fully he had to stop to pick up the Sunday New York Times.

Paul lets me lead so I can stop when I want to take pictures. I worry a bit that I am traveling too slow but the Kawasaki seems content in my rear view mirrors. Heading west into the Moshannon State Forest I stop to look at some cimicifugia racemosa.

Kim calls them fairy candles and they are also known as Black Cohosh or Black Snakeroot. Paul takes the stop as an opportunity for more coffee and a breakfast banana.

From there it's on through Black Moshannon State Park and northward over Red Moshannon Creek. The history of coal mining in the region displays itself in the bright orange streams fallen victim to acid mine drainage. This damage will last pretty much forever I'm told.

During a stop to look out over the West Branch of the Susquehanna River you can see some of the contamination seeping in but the greater water volume seems to dilute it.

A growling stomach and short discussion points us to a small eating establishment about 30 miles away. Riding up the Quehanna Highway the Vespa cruises comfortably at 55 MPH until we turn off onto Wycoff Road to head towards Sinnemahoning and a hearty breakfast at the Willows, the only place to eat for miles around that I know of.

I was hungry so I didn't get any pictures of breakfast. You all know what bacon and eggs look like. It was good. If you get up this way stop here to eat.

Getting ready to leave we see a pack of BMW bikes cross the bridge and head towards Renovo. They are packed and riding fast somewhere. Following their path I think about how fast I am comfortable riding and it's pretty slow. Traffic on these rural roads still wants to go fast and I tend to let the occasional car or truck go by at 70 MPH. Those 55 MPH signs are a waste of tax dollars.

As always I want to see things and tend to move along at a more relaxed pace and Paul seems content to do the same.

I pull over to look at the river and Paul makes a portrait of me.

While I'm looking around he amuses himself with a short piece of lumber he finds along the road.

I guess the ride just isn't enough.

We stop one more time so I can look out over the river and valley and take a few pictures. My low fuel light comes on before we get to Renovo but I'm not worried---gas is just a few miles away. The gas station is closed. The only gas station around is closed, probably because of the fire that must have just occurred in the past few days.

With the low fuel light on and two bars showing on the fuel indicator we cross the river and head south to the next gas station in Snow Shoe about 36 miles away. I'm comfortable that I have enough fuel and the fact that there is little traffic and no cell coverage doesn't bother me. When the fuel indicator drops to one bar before we even get to the top of the plateau I start to wonder how I might move fuel from the Kawasaki to the Vespa. Then it starts to rain.

A quick stop to pull on raingear and take a picture of one of the out of place rocks that sort of appear here and there we are on our way. I keep the scooter at around 40 MPH thinking I am going to stretch the fuel supply and maintain a light touch on the throttle as the last bar on the fuel indicator disappears. I'm actually surprised to make it to the gas station in Snow Shoe without running out of gas. Even more surprised that I had 3/10 of a gallon left when I got there. Sometime I am going to have to run the tank dry to see how far I can really go.

Getting closer to home Paul and I part ways. I didn't register any reasons why the relatively small Vespa and the large touring Kawasaki couldn't ride all day together if there was no need to chew up miles or ride at high speeds on the Interstate. For touring around like we did it was fine. I know I could ride a lot faster but that interferes with most of the goals I have while riding

Morning Postcard

Kim looks out for me. Yesterday morning around 5:30 AM she wakes me with the words "there's fog outside". No matter how sleepy I am those words don't fail to awake the rider and photographer. So I left for work early just so I could ride (I wanted to say ramble but I feel that word is spoken for) a bit in the magic.

The fog was not of the ground level variety and instead hovered higher in the air where it filtered the light a bit. This photo was made along Bear Meadows Road in Rothrock State Forest.

Went on a long ride with my friend Paul Ruby. He has acquired a new to him Kawasaki Concours motorcycle as a replacement for his Suzuki DRZ400 SuperMoto. Pretty drastic change. I have not had time to write that up yet or go through all the pictures I made. Hopefully by the end of the week.

No fog this morning so I think it will be a straight ride to work. Even that is a fine time...

Short Flights

Saturday morning and I depart on the Vespa. The ride prepares me for the day. During the week the ride to work does it. Kim and I planned to take a trip later in the morning so my ride was necessarily short but I've found that I don't need a lot of time on the scooter to settle down.

The sun was just coming over the trees, burning through the fog when I stopped at the crossing of Rock and Trout roads. Both signs indicate something about central Pennsylvania.

I'm always lured by unfamiliar or seldom traveled roads. Early morning finds many of the roads here empty and easy to just stop on the scooter and take a picture.

Moments later I pass a flock of wild turkeys but the camera is safely packed away. Traveling slowly I can hardly maintain my forward progress because I keep wanting to stop and take pictures. And there are always more roads and lanes and tracks to follow.

Surprises like the turkeys and new paths seem to always appear. Not always welcome though like suddenly coming upon a stinking section of road that was freshly oiled and chipped.

Something about spraying oil all over the road and dropping gravel and then more oil seems wrong. The rain last night had streaks of this stuff going everywhere. I haven't wanted to look under the Vespa.

Spring Creek, a cold water stream and excellent trout stream is the recipient of whatever runs off these roads. Just can't be good. The water looks clear.

My stomach gets the best of me and I stop in Bellefonte for breakfast.

One of the advantages of being an early morning person is that you often have the world to yourself. Many of my short rides have me home before a lot of people are moving around.

After breakfast I wandered home, ready for the day, thanks to another short flight on the Vespa.

In All Weathers

There is no bad riding weather. Well, I suppose I wouldn't be quick to ride in a hurricane, tornado, ice, or snowstorm. Not sure about the snowstorm. I didn't always believe this though but now when I get up in the morning to look at the weather it isn't to decide if I will ride or not but simply how I will dress. Like the other day going to work after a night of hard rain. Still a bit of mist in the air and scattered rain called for the First Gear jacket. Winding along a farm lane towards campus was just another small gift of beauty that I would miss if I weren't riding. Beaver Stadium appears like Brigadoon as I came over a rise.

When I started riding there was one weather to ride in---warm and dry. There was no thought or contemplation; it was just an obvious truth. Almost every motorcycle riding technique book that I read supported this notion and suggested that any riding in "bad" weather was to be undertaken in emergencies only and then at extreme risk. So it was pretty easy to keep riding when I did. On nice days like it was last Sunday when I chanced upon a field of sunflowers. A nice warm happy riding day.

Over time my desire to ride forced me to question the days I was leaving the Vespa at home. I started to explore the road surfaces, gear to protect me from the elements, my riding skills, and ultimately test for myself the premise I had been operating under that two-wheels were for warm and dry days. From that mental opening I have found great joy riding almost all the time. My own mental barriers gave way to experience. Fortunately I had no fashion or stylistic requirements that would have made riding in wet or cold weather impossible. I've heard more than one rider tell me they hate cold wet riding. Usually under cross-examination I find that those conclusions were derived from intuition or from having been caught in a sudden change of weather without the proper gear.

Almost every time I ride I think about the weather and how I might improve the way I deal with it. For me the biggest challenge is hot weather and I have yet to find what I consider the ideal protective pants. But I'm still thinking. I tell new photographers who are seeking ways to improve their photography to not limit the times they pick up their cameras to bright sunny days. There is magic in all those other kinds of weather. Same goes for riding.

POSTSCRIPT: This is my 200th blog post. Time sure flies when you're having fun! Here is a link to the post number 1. Didn't even warrant a comment. The experience with the Ford Ranger has changed a bit though, I can go a lot longer on a tank of gas

A Different Experience

This has nothing to do with scooters or riding. It's just something that struck me hard when I saw it. I remember friends coming home in the early 1970's and it was sad...



I saw this posted on Scooter Dave Dot Com along with other thoughts on this. Watching the video took me back to somewhere 35 years ago that I guess I never really sorted out.

Exploring the Road (Slowly)

Roads and highways are designed for machines not people. Maybe that's why often feel out of place stopped alongside one taking pictures or exploring the areas most people rush by. Count up all the miles of roads and that's a lot of ground that has been delegated to invisibility beyond the general view.

I've passed the road cut in the picture above countless times in a car but never stopped to really look at it. It's easy to stop on the Vespa and it never feels inconvenient no matter how many times I stop to look at a plant, rock, or view. It's one of the strengths of a small scooter. In the car all the details are filtered away by speed and separation from the road. I've wondered if the same might be true if I were riding a bigger scooter or motorcycle---would I be seduced into the same rapid pace as a car? Judging by the other riders I see the answer would be yes.

My friend Frank Armstrong believes you need to be traveling no faster than 35 MPH to see anything photographically. (Correct me if I have this wrong Frank). I have found that to be true and when I used to explore in my truck it was painful to crawl along roads at 25 MPH. It just felt wrong. On the Vespa it feels just fine.

So I'm not sure how versatile and useful a motorcycle would be to me for the kind of riding experience I seek. Hard to imagine feeling comfortable and satisfied astride a Triumph Scrambler or BMW 1200 GS Adventure all afternoon at 35 MPH. If some manufacturer what's me to test the theory with an extended loan I'll experiment. Maybe I'm wrong.

I stopped again along Route 322 just to look at the road wind over the hill. How often do I stop in the truck?

I didn't have any destination in mind on this ride and just kept wandering along turning and stopping as the whim hit me. Heading toward Black Moshannon State Park I passed Hannah Furnace Road.

A quick U-turn and off I go down a road that I hadn't been on before. Asphalt turns to gravel and I have the chance to practice my skills a bit more until I am comfortable running along at 30 MPH without feeling like the scooter is going down at any moment.

After a few stops to look at plants and birds I rode on until joining US 322 again and headed home. Only traveled about 70 miles but it was a nice, relaxed ride...

Working and Riding

They do mix. I'm not just talking about the ride to work or even as transportation to and from assignments. What I'm referring to is using the Vespa as a tool to do a better job.

The Luna Moth carcass I saw on the ground is one of those little details that are easy to miss if you aren't paying attention. And there are things to see everywhere. Little hidden stories just waiting to be noticed.

Conventional behavior would have me behind the wheel of my truck or a rental van to get to and from the locations I need to visit. The windows would be up, air conditioner on, and whatever talk show I could find would be struggling to push out the boredom of sitting in a plush chair with not much to do. That's probably why so many people drive with a cell phone to their ear.

I rode out to an experimental forest today to see how a small tract of forestland was being mapped and cataloged using the latest technology available. In order to identify the exact location of every stem, every species, and every diameter requires a lot of careful attention.

Scanning the gravel road surface for obstacles and loose areas, executing turns, applying throttle and brakes, the whole mechanical process of riding fuels a change in consciousness. Details grow larger and I see more. You need to be conscious and see more if you want to manage risk better. The resultant rise in awareness has benefits for a photographer. I notice things. Like the Luna Moth. I see differently now than I did when I wasn't riding. It is easier to see foreground, background, subject, color, and light almost instantaneously. My eye pours over the viewfinder with a restlessness that just wasn't there a few years ago. And I'm patient. Maybe it's the digital camera or the onset of maturity but I can't help but see a parallel between the ways I see while riding with photography.

I'm grateful to have a profession that places me out in the world and gives me a chance to look out across the natural landscapes here like this view out towards Tussey Mountain. On the way back to the office I stopped to look at a small creek running along the road. This homemade sign for Snake Hill Stables caught my eye and I just had to make a picture.

I can't take the Vespa on every assignment. Sometimes I need room for passengers, have too much gear to haul along, or the scooter just is not a reasonable choice for some hi-speed, long-distance trips. But for many of them within 50 miles it's ideal.


The GTS easily hauls a big camera bag and tripod that suitable for a lot of work. This past Monday I had to ride out to photograph an irrigation project, something not typical in Pennsylvania, and the Vespa was more than adequate.

So now I'm faced with a dilemma---how to deal with this new area of riding. I'm not sure what the policy is concerning blogging about work activity. I suppose I'll have to ask.

Riding to Work

Looking out the window this morning and seeing a steady rain didn't bode well for Ride to Work Day but I really do find satisfaction riding in the rain.

Maneuvering the Vespa along wet roads really turns up the attention level. I stopped twice on the way to work to get the camera wet and just appreciate being part of the rain. Mental processes at work on clear dry days with good visibility are intensified as even more data streams into my head when the weather is more demanding. I'm left feeling hyperaware.

Did not see any other motorcycles on the way to work but I know there are some hard-core riders around and that we just didn't cross paths. By the time I rode home the rain had passed and the roads were clear and I was seeing other riders.

Good day and a fine ride.

Ride to Work Day

Tomorrow is the third Wednesday of July and Ride to Work Day. I visited the RidetoWork.Org Web site to make sure my idea of what the day represented and the official plan were close. In a nutshell the Ride to Work people suggest the day will demonstrate:

• The number of motorcyclists to the general public and to politicians.
• That motorcyclists are from all occupations and all walks of life.
• That motorcyclists can reduce traffic and parking congestion in large cities.
• That motorcycles are for transportation as well as recreation.
• That motorcycling is a social good.

I am always trying to bring things closer to home, into the backyard, figure out what makes something relevant in my own life. I'm not a crusader or activist beyond the belief that change starts at home. I'll change first rather than tell you to do it.

Thinking about why I ride to work I've come up with a few ideas and benefits.

• The ride smoothes the entry and exit of the workday.
• Riding to work is a fun, mini adventure every time.
• What parking problem?
• Who cares what a gallon of gas costs?
• Paying attention to the weather and riding in it makes me feel connected to the world.
• I get to see how miserable people look in their vehicles.
• I can stand up and stretch at traffic lights.
• I like to imagine what people think about me smiling all the time.

Anyways, if you have a scooter or motorcycle give yourself the gift of a ride to work tomorrow. Just for one day you can deal with wardrobe or image problems. You can take the chance that someone may scratch your ride or the weather might change on you. Just for one day you can show the people on the road that there are other ways to transport ourselves around, have fun, and alleviate some of the problems generated by a lot of four wheeled vehicles.

Ride to Work!