The Daydreaming Rider

While eating my lunch the other day I watched a segment of The Tonight Show on the Web. In response to a question by Jay Leno actor Hugh Laurie (from the TV show House) said he would like to ride his Triumph motorcycle across America. The stuff of many daydreaming riders. He talked about putting a sidecar on the motorcycle and packing up his gear and just riding forth to see some of what makes up this country. See what makes up this country --- those were the words that resonated with me. Seeing and experiencing places is at the foundation of many of my own daydreams. I don't know whether Mr. Laurie will ever makes his ride but his description of why he wanted to ride echoed my own. He sounded like the kind of guy I would be comfortable sharing the road with.

Riding daydreams are a pleasant aspect of my restless and wandering mind. No task is too monotonous or trying to not respond well to a good riding daydream. Just give me a map or atlas and I am on the road with the Vespa visiting parts unknown. Endless roads, National Parks and city streets, mountain passes and open plains, nameless small towns and rugged coastlines. Wandering through the world taking it all in like a man with new eyes.

My conscious mind may remind me that some daydreams don't really fit my mental or physical resources. But daydreams offer a vicarious path of experience, rides I will probably never undertake. Like the Cannonball Run underway now with scooterists racing across the country. Or IronButt rides running a thousand miles in less than 24 hours. I'm not competitive with the clock or other riders but there is a thrill imagining what it might be like to do my own Long Way Round or on a dirt bike flying through Baja in From Dust to Glory. Mental wanderings of a daydreaming rider.

I wonder sometimes what I would do with time and money. If I would actually transform a lot of daydreams into reality. Until then I'll continue to ride as I can, daydream when convenient, and relish experience as it comes.

Riding a Triumph, Riding a Vespa

A minor aside: This is my 300th post. Who would have known I would be writing about a Triumph.

After two weeks on the road with the Triumph America I had to give it back. During that time I was able to stretch my motorcycle legs and strengthen my scooter resolve. If something is going to pry me away from the Vespa GTS 250ie it isn’t the America.

I won’t say there is anything wrong with it. There is no doubt that the Triumph attracts some attention from other riders who are either curious about or appreciate the British bike mystique. Or at least the ghost of those earlier machines still evident in the styling lines of these modern offspring. To the general public it’s just another motorcycle. No curious inquiries like I get with the Vespa.

Commuting and running errands on the Triumph was easy but I was missing some kind of locking storage, someplace to guard my potato chips, library book, or digital camera. I suspect some kind of luggage is available but I wonder what it would do to those classic lines.
The big tires do a real nice job of smoothing out the road but it is almost cancelled out by the shake and rumble of the engine.

The most noticeable cost of those big tires though is the sacrifice in nimbleness on the road. The Vespa just feels much more responsive. Nimble. Quick. And much easier to stop. But each machine has their own strengths and weaknesses and what may be important to me would be a negative to someone else. Each rider needs to draw their own conclusions when it comes to selecting what they want to ride.

It was hot and windy when I headed for Altoona and I was surprised how badly the America was pushed around in a heavy crosswind. I assumed the size and weight would keep it in a straight line. At 55 mph I was afraid the road wasn’t wide enough to not suddenly be riding in a cornfield so I veered off onto a more dawdling route and enjoyed the trip a lot more.

I stopped a few times along the road to take some pictures and you really have to watch the Triumph in the gravel. A dirt bike it is not. The mass of the machine makes any use of the front brake a touchy enterprise. I can see why a lot of riders don’t like taking these things down the forest roads around here.

I retrieved the Vespa and headed straight home. It felt tiny and I recalled driving our 1970 VW Campmobile where you sat out over the front wheels with nothing in front of you. Same thing with the Vespa. Nothing out in front of you but air. You don’t see the front wheel.

Welcome back to the shiftless world. The quiet world, the darting, quick, and nimble world. One stop in an alfalfa field reminded me that I was home again with an agile little scooter.

As much as I wanted to get home I kept seeing places to stop to look around and take some pictures. Places I would ride past on the Triumph. So for me the Vespa remains the right ride. But if I have the chance to ride some other things I’ll take them. I’m open to the idea that there are other quick and nimble rides that will make it easy to do what I do.

Transition: Vespa to Triumph

5:30 AM. Dark and raining. My destination 58 miles away. An appropriate start for the transition from my Vespa GTS 250ie to a 2008 Triumph America. I agreed to shuttle the Triumph back to town for a friend of my father-in-law for maintenance at our local Triumph dealer. I’ll have the Triumph for a week and the chance for an extended demo ride was too much to pass up.  A temporary assignment to a Triumph.

Riding in the Dark

For me, the combination of darkness and rain is a weather challenge only exceeded by snow. Empty rural roads and slow speeds would dominate the trip until dawn. And I was hoping the rain kept the deer on the ground until the weather cleared a bit. Riding through the countryside and watching the road ahead lit solely by my headlight I was reminded of how small the area of illumination is and slow I have to ride to be able to stop within the area I can see. Even if I wanted to go faster there really was no way to manage it safely.

I sat a while at an on ramp of Interstate 99 gauging traffic for one leg of my trip. An endless series of tractor-trailers roaring along in a cloud of spray made the decision not to venture onto the freeway simple.

The sky showed the first signs of light in Tyrone and the rain was nothing more than mist. I stopped to dry my visor and make sure my digital camera wasn’t getting too wet in my pocket.

Nearing Altoona I stopped to watch the fog move along the mountainside. Apart from a heavy surf breaking on a rocky shore I can think of few things whose appearance brings me such quiet pleasure.

The Triumph America

My first thought on seeing the motorcycle in my father-in-law’s garage was that all that chrome was going to get dirty. And indeed it did. The switch from the Vespa to something the size of the America demands some changes in thought and approach. The additional weight is managed differently. The feet forward cruiser pegs and added tasks of shifting and foot braking are not on the regular riding menu. For the first few miles I reprogrammed myself with a bit of conscious practice and the old muscle memories returned from a long vacation.

More empty roads gave me the chance to practice some hard braking, swerving and other actions specific to the weight of the Triumph. The bike performed nicely and it became quite comfortable to handle.

By the time I got home I felt relaxed on the America. It’s two-cylinder engine thumped along like a champ and I could see how someone might enjoy one. It’s not for me though.

The Triumph is too big, too powerful, and too clumsy for the eclectic riding I do. There would be no quick u-turns or pushing through deep gravel and grass for a picture. It’s size and weight just takes too long to manage. Even the few times I stopped for pictures I watched that kickstand carefully to see if it would support the weight on the surfaces I was on. And I passed up many picture locations I just didn’t think I could get the bike to safely or easily like I could with the Vespa. Still, it is a nice motorcycle.

If I had any complaints at all it was with the loud exhaust. Aftermarket pipes made the America nothing short of obnoxious to my ears. When I left Altoona I had my earplugs in when I started it up and while had quite a rumble it wasn’t until I got home and started it for Kim without the plugs that I realized how really loud it was. On a long trip I can’t imagine having to listen to it thundering in my brain. I suspect returning the factory pipes would fix that problem. Still, it is a nice motorcycle.

I’ll probably get the motorcycle back from the Triumph dealer on Tuesday and be able to ride it the rest of the week before going back to Altoona to retrieve my Vespa. We’ll see how things go until then…

The Road Devours All Concerns

With the Vespa parked across from the Cafe on the Park I sat outside in the cool air with a cup of tea and watched the world go by. Moments like these remind me why I ride alone. But they don't always come easy.

Checking the scooter over in the driveway this morning I had no idea where to go. I've not ridden much apart from my commute to work. Thinking about the road ahead made me anxious. Nervous. A soft melancholy flow squeezed me and my gut was whispering to stay home. Backpacker and author Colin Fletcher describes the feeling in "The Complete Walker". Something that happens to him before a backpacking trip the he refers to as "Fletcherititis". An unexplained and sudden onset of physical and emotional symptoms striving to keep him at home.

But the road devours all concerns.

The cafe is not on my mental riding stop list. Somehow I forget about it despite nothing but exceptional morning meals. This morning was no exception. I'll have to reprogram.

The ride home was like a kid wandering through the neighborhood after school. (Do parents actually let their kids still do that?) No road was too small, no track too difficult. My only goal was slow and empty.

Riding off the beaten path always reminds of things. This gravel road freshened thoughts of more aggressive Kenda K 761 tires to run this winter. They are more akin to those you see on a Honda Ruckus.

Cotton candy clouds and blue skies, riding along towards home, the tires, winter, and everything else faded. All that was left was the road...

Squirrels and Riders

We're the same at some level. Perhaps it’s the common DNA we share. Standing in the garden this morning while the dog patrolled the premises the 59-degree air triggered a reaction not dissimilar from those going through the heads of the squirrels racing overhead in the spruce trees. Or so I imagine.

Cold air means winter is coming. Time to prepare. I don’t gather acorns but do think about NikWax for my riding clothes to hold the foul weather from my tender boyish flesh. Locate electric gloves, wonder about the condition of the Vespa’s battery. That sort of thing. Winter riding sorts of things.

The ride to work on Monday morning beneath heavy, gray clouds reminded me of fall. And winter. A feeling in my gut manufactured by ancient genetic coding that once kept my ancestors alive. And I suppose it’s still working that way.

What troubles isn’t that I might be like a squirrel. What really bothers me is where did the summer go?

Balance: On the Road and in Life

Looking out over a quiet morning landscape reminds me of the possibility of balance. What it means and what it takes to achieve.

One of the reasons I ride so early in the morning is the world is still a simple place. Returning my father-in-law's Vespa ET4 on a 60 mile ride at dawn swept everything away but the balance of the moment.

Waiting at traffic lights I try to balance the scooter. Feet up at a dead stop I count the seconds before balance evaporates. One, two, three seconds and the Vespa begins to travel towards the pavement. A 350-pound scooter is easy to manage and keep upright. That's probably why I don't see Harley and Goldwing riders playing the same game. This practice has done wonders for my own slow speed balance. Not sure how others practice.

Balance. A simple word with many implications. More than the obvious riding needs to keep the rubber side down. Riding home from work in the ends of a heavy rain called for another form of balance as I worked to manage my position on the road, with other vehicles and water lying randomly in my path. Speed, lane position, my intentions, suspicion of others, everything working together in an intuitive balance that manages risk.

Inputs affecting balance seem endless. When the dance on the road becomes too frenetic an alternative is always available. Stop, slow down, take another route. As long as my brain doesn't interfere with my willingness to depart from a preconceived plan. Stubborn. Stupid.

Sitting this morning in the Boalsburg Griddle having breakfast I was struck by a sign from the Pennsylvania Liquor Control Board outlining their attempt to exert balance in the beer consumption arena. You can't walk out with more than 192 ounces of beer. The need to balance is everywhere.

On the road it is a model of simplicity compared to the choices faced everyday in living. At least for me. Choices are more varied, their impact subtle, gray, and uncertain. As are the motives. Little wonder the struggle for balance rages from eyes open in the morning until I drift into oblivion at night. During that time though is the real juice of living.

It's been almost a month since my last post. This one has been in my head simmering and blocking the way. Wrestling with balance at home, at work, it's held my attention. Letting these words finally spill out in my Moleskine journal has brought balance. All is right in my world and the road ahead is now clear...

Riding at Dawn

There is no better time to ride than at dawn. To be present to watch the genesis of a new day. To be happy and alive and riding on the earth. Those minutes between the glow of light and the first rays of sunlight are magical regardless of how I experience them. Looking out across the landscape at a group of trees in the fog reminds me of how simple things are.

At dawn the roads are empty. I watch more for deer than for vehicles. The temperature was 62 degrees and chilly as it poured through my vented jacket and t-shirt. Stopping for pictures gave me a moment to warm. On this day the sun was scheduled to arrive at 5:50 and since I didn't get on the road until 5:40 I didn't have much time.

On Saturday morning I was off for a 60-mile ride to meet my father-in-law Bob and swap my Vespa GTS for his Vespa ET4. I was bringing the ET4 back for service at the local Vespa dealer Kissell Motor Sports. I was only 12 miles from home as the sun swept out across the landscape.

Patches of fog diminished the full force of sunlight and a few times disappeared as I rode through some areas of dense fog. Fog is challenging. My scanning behind me becomes as intense as ahead. Pre-planning exit strategies for things fore and aft are appropriate in these conditions. The fog didn't last long and the day was upon me.

Aside from a brief stop to inspect some water slides I rode directly to the meeting place and breakfast. Part of me wants to go back to those water slides when they're open. Seems wrong that they are wasted on kids. They can have fun with a cardboard box. I require a more refined experience.

The switch from the GTS to the ET4 was noticeable both in size of the machine and in performance. Acceleration was noticeably less, stability was reduced, and a comfortable cruising speed was lower. The human brain is a wonderful thing though and by the time I stopped at Gardners Candies in Tyrone for a treat the ET4 felt pretty much like the GTS.

I didn't stop much to shoot pictures on the way home. It was getting hot and the light was boring. I was reminded though of how easily the smaller scooter handles the road and can easily eat up miles all day long.

I'll make the trip again after the ET4 is serviced. At breakfast I met a friend of Bob's who has a new Triumph Bonneville that needs service. The next ride I may be shuttling a motorcycle instead of a scooter.

Rider in the Mirror

Most riders pay close attention to their machines; inspecting, checking, making sure everything is working as it should. But how often do we look in the mirror and make the same critical assessment of our riding expertise?

It’s rare for me to meet a rider who questions their skill or ability. More often I hear stories of feats of speed or disaster averted. Long trips, great rides and recollections of weather, roads and people. Consideration of how good a rider one might be just doesn’t come up. Self-assessment in general is a cloudy and sometimes painful process. A lot of ego is tied up with riding and denial may be easier than honest reflection.

A look in the mirror doesn’t mean much to me unless I have some standard or definition of what it means to be a good rider. One man’s good is another man’s terrible. Looking at myself I see some riding experience – around 17000 miles on a Vespa over the past three years in a wider range of weather and conditions. Two MSF riding classes. And a running pseudo-evaluation of sorts through Scooter in the Sticks. But that’s probably not the level of assessment necessary to really make sure I’m as good as I should be on the road.

I’ve noticed that as time on the scooter increases so does confidence. But that confidence may be unfounded and even dangerous. The once complete feet down stops get replaced by slow rolling stops at an intersection I’ve seen a hundred times. Or riding faster through familiar territory because I know what to expect. The guy in the mirror isn’t too bright. Still, there are things I consider positive.

Dress for the Ride

What does that actually mean? If I pretend to be an outlaw biker does it mean jeans, t-shirt, sunglasses, and boots? And if the need arises for head protection a bandanna neatly tied over the top of my head? Or shorts, t-shirt, and flip-flops for a sunny Sunday scooter ride? Both costume choices fit the stylization of some in those riding cultures. I’ve always thought physics trumps culture and make my own choices accordingly. Regardless of your choice of two-wheeled conveyance the physics are the same.

A body falling onto pavement at 45MPH pays the same price whether delivered from a Goldwing or a Vespa. A head meets a curb or tree. A knee or elbow bangs the asphalt. All possible events for any rider. Not inevitable but possible. When I look in the mirror the rider I see always has a yellow and black armored jacket, over the ankle boots, full helmet, gloves, and long pants (and usually armored ones on top of those). Dressed for the possible physics of the ride.

Noticing Stupid Things on the Road

I don’t mean bad spelling on yard sale signs or the price of gas. For me it’s: 1. speeders, 2. tailgaters, and 3. the oblivious driver (usually connected to a cell phone). I always think individuals engaging in those behaviors are just sort of, well, stupid. But what really gets me chuckling is seeing items 1 and 2 performed by a rider. I just don’t have the degree of faith in my fellows on the road to do it and am happy to report the man in the mirror free of those defects.

Strategic vs. Tactical Riding

I’ve always felt there is more to successful riding than good tactical skills – being able to physically manipulate a machine on the road. All that’s important but those skills are like individual puzzle pieces – without them being put together to form a bigger strategic picture they don’t add up to much. Looking in the mirror for a while I realize that I think a lot about the rides I take. Where I am going, the characteristics or the roads I will travel, traffic patterns, road hazards I am aware of and those I could possibly encounter.  Like the dump trucks that zip across the road at the quarry entrance in the picture below. When the weather is bad these considerations are even more intense. Riding may put me “in the moment” but my mind is constantly processing things into a larger picture.

How Do I Get to Carnegie Hall?

Practice, practice, practice. The rider in the mirror practices and experiments and pushes the skills envelop. I still seek out places to practice quick and sudden stops bringing the scooter to a halt right at the edge of skidding. I experiment with balance and slow tight turns. And I test my ability to manage the Vespa on a wide range of dicey surfaces. They keep my mind and body in tune with the machine.

Report Card

The rider in this mirror gets a C. I’m making good progress. I’m doing the things I should be doing to be a safe rider. I’m not trying to bring track skills to the highway or duplicate stunt skills in traffic. I want to continue to learn how to be capable and conscious of the things I can do physically and mentally to reduce risk and enjoy riding.

No Age Limit

From time to time I wonder how long I’ll be able to ride. It happened today while slogging along a grass road. Grass does a good job hiding ruts, groundhog holes, and other jarring obstacles for little scooter tires and nice taps and twinges to aging joints. It’s during those episodes that I can start feeling old.

This past year I’ve noticed subtle changes that affect riding. An active imagination can easily construct a doomed future. The end of riding and beyond. These changes come in the form of increased hand and wrist pain, reduced tolerance to cold, and increased resistance to riding in adverse conditions. When occupied in this mental arena I search for evidence of continued activity and accomplishment. At an art museum recently I was doing age calculations of the artists – subtracting their birth date from the date of a work’s creation hoping for evidence that good things continue to happen.

When I stumbled upon Piaggio’s marketing project – NO AGE LIMIT – I was thrilled to see two riders in their 70’s riding across America.

Buddy and Bob are riding MP3 500’s from San Francisco to New York. Last time I checked they were in the Midwest. It’s a nice story and they have lots of pictures, maps and information about the trip. For many the ride is the most interesting part of the story but for me it’s the fact that these guys are still out there riding. I’ve always had in the back of my mind that when I got older or less sure on my feet that I would opt for one of those three-wheeled wonders. I guess Piaggio was thinking the same thing.

Simple Living and the Pink Bike

Record fuel prices and evidence of an expanding waistline brought my old Schwinn Mirada bicycle into the light. When concerns related to riding a Vespa and its affect on masculine appearances are directed toward me they fall on the deaf ears of a man who has ridden a pink bike since the 1970's. For the two months that Scooter in the Sticks has been dormant I've continued to ride and think about things that come up on the road. Not always the typical topics. Of late I have been thinking more and more about ways to simplify my life. Reduce the noise and confusion attendant with too much stuff and too much to do with no hope of creating more time in a day.

The Vespa is a model of simplicity as a transportation vehicle. It's reliable, well made, stingy with fuel, and simple to operate. Being plain fun to ride is gravy. Economics aside it epitomizes simple transport and is surpassed in my mind only by walking or a bicycle. As it turns out I'm not ready to sign on to the pink bike as my primary mode of transport.

Riding the Vespa focuses my attention on what's happening -- what's in front of me and around me. It strips away all or most of the noise in my head as my brain focuses on what I need to do to ride safely. That kind of clarity is a gift. On the way home from the video store on Friday night I pulled off the road to look at the clouds after the sun had set. In that moment everything was simple and quiet. Those kind of Vespa moments make it easy to differentiate what is important and what is noise.

I've been reading about the 100 Things Challenge. A challenge to reduce the number of personal possessions to 100. The thought is daunting. The amount of stuff I have accumulated is depressing. Thinking about all the things piled in the garage, basement, and attic felt like a huge millstone around my neck. It's always there to be dealt with, organized, cared for, and managed. And most of it is never used. Some has never been used. Items or consumption that at one point in time I thought I could not live without. I think about this when I ride. On the road life is simple. I just want to extend that throughout my life.

The Reappearance of Posts

For the past two months I have read a lot of comments and references to the termination of Scooter in the Sticks. It was never my intent to terminate, merely to retreat for a while to focus on other things. And as things developed I would post again. I'm not sure how often but I prefer to think of Scooter in the Sticks as more indolent.

Anyways, it's been a nice vacation.

One New Adventure: Theoretical Agriculture

In response to questions about what direction my new adventures have taken I wanted to share a link to one of them – Theoretical Agriculture. It’s similar to Scooter in the Sticks in that I post pictures and text related the things I see and experience. The content grows from the landscape I work in as a photographer. I’m interested in developing my photographic skills and ability to bring a variety of approaches and styles to the assignments I shoot. The ritual of posting on a blog helpful in keeping me engaged in creating new work – a blog is a hungry animal.  I've talked with my boss about it and developed some guidelines and I'm ready to roll.

 Just as I did with Scooter in the Sticks and riding I plan to continue to create new content on a regular basis.  It's pretty simple to do since I am working so much with a camera anyways.  If you would like to follow along you might find some things of interest. And you know I’ll find some way to work the scooter into a picture.

I still have some riding dreams. If they should take shape or I find myself in a unique riding situation I will post it on Scooter in the Sticks. It’s not dead. I prefer to think of it as in hibernation or semi-retirement.

And there is a personal writing project I am finally going to sit down and work on. I have lots of notes and ideas. Now is the time to sit down at the computer and write. The riding experience plays a central role in the story but that’s all I’ll say.

Again, thanks to all of you who have read and posted here. It’s been great and there will still be something new from time to time.

Off on a New Adventure

No ride lasts forever and all stories come to an end. So it goes with creative projects and I think this one has come to an end, or at least a place where it's time to let it rest. I may post here now and again but for now my mind is traveling different roads.

A passage by T.S. Eliot comes to mind:

“In my end is my beginning.”

Best wishes to everyone for smooth roads and safe journeys!

Forging Ahead, Falling Behind

I decided to upgrade to the new Blogger layout templates. When they say you might lose some things they mean it. So bear with me as I slowly wade through my notes and see if I can restore links to sites, RSS feeds, and such.

The above picture started with me sitting in my office. Photographer Billie Mercer made the Mexican landscape image. During a discussion about the empty space I stuck myself in the picture. Another photographer, Frank Armstrong created the triptych. You never know what might happen to your pictures on the internet.

Hopefully that distracted everyone long enough for me to get Scooter in the Sticks back in order...

3 Prints Project: April 6, 2008

This week I gave the digital camera a rest and was back to shooting film. I use 35mm Ilford Hp5 processed in Kodak D-76 developer diluted 1:1 with water. I've been using D-76 for over 30 years now and it still gives reliable results. In case you are wondering how I fit this into my schedule I carry the Leica M6 around with me from Sunday until I have two rolls exposed. Generally I have that done by Wednesday or Thursday, process the film on Thursday or Friday evening, and print sometime during the day on Saturday.

It takes more patience than time. Shooting is incidental and done while doing other things. Processing the film takes about 45 minutes. Making three prints takes another hour or so. Depending on my mood and how the week goes this can seem easy or impossible. Luckily it doesn't matter how I feel. I just need to do it.

Still not sure where I am going with this project but I believe something good will happen. Photography remains a mystery to me a lot of the time.

So here are this week's pictures:

Kim at Barnes and Noble.

Twisted vines in bird paradise.

Trees in the wind at local park.