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!

The Price of Better Pictures

My shoulder hurts so bad I can hardly type. Started writing by hand on Saturday evening but don’t get too far. A deep aching pain only relieved by sudden flashes of sharp pain caused by a strained rotator cuff. And that is a result of trying to get better pictures. Just one of the costs of better pictures.

Two goals were firmly in place when I left the house this past Saturday morning on the Vespa --- to see the sunrise and see a wild elk. Riding early means seeing magical light. Light that describes and defines the world in ways outside common experience. Those of you who routinely travel at dawn or dusk know what this means. I hope you stop once in awhile and actually look at things. Getting up early was a small price to pay when the alarm went off at 4:20 AM

The sun would rise at 5:56 AM and I was dressed and ready to go at 5AM but I hadn’t factored in the problems my new helmet visor would pose. Last week my clear visor broke and the dealer didn’t have a replacement. While waiting for a new one to arrive I purchased a tinted Iridium visor. Works great in the sun but was almost useless in the dark. So I had to wait until the pre-dawn glow was bright enough to see. When I am anxious to ride it is hard to wait.

At 5:50 AM I stop in a cornfield to watch the sunrise. Not notice it while riding but actually stop and watch. Like I do when Kim and I stay in Ogunquit, Maine and sit along the Marginal Way to watch the sun come up.

Riding on the morning clouds give way to a clear blue sky. I pass a single Harley and we both extend hands in acknowledgment of being out early in 55 F air. That’s really cold when you have gotten used to hot weather. Riding in the shadows of the forest was cold. I stopped in the bright sun to look out across a reclaimed strip mine and pull on another layer under my mesh jacket.

Vegetation slowly takes back and hides the disruption to the landscape surface but at best the place is only a ghost of its former self. The sun warms me enough to continue on towards the Quehanna Wilderness area.

A line of fog in the distance marks the West branch of the Susquehanna River. Descending off the plateau brings the scooter and me into sudden grayness. The temperature dips and my visor fogs making visibility bad. Whitetail deer stand along the road as I slow to 25 MPH and raise the visor.


want to take a look at the river and ride down a canoe access road. The water is quiet. Docile. Nothing like the torrent earlier this spring that attracts serious canoers. There is not a soul around. I have the world to myself.

I cross the river at Karthus and continue on to Quehanna, a vast tract of land that almost was lost except for a bit of foresight on the part of then Secretary of the Department of Forests and Waters Maurice K. Goddard.

In the 1950’s in a move to make this “useless” 50,000 acres of land profitable the state agreed to give it to the Curtiss-Wright Corporation to test and build aircraft engines. At the last moment before signing the agreement Goddard insisted the state get the land back should the enterprise fail. It did and now Pennsylvania enjoys this area where every cabin and camp and other human enterprise was stripped away. The place is a wilderness save for the paved road that runs around its perimeter.

It is on the Quehanna Highway that I pay another price for better pictures. It happened while stopped making the picture below.

It was a quick picture. Didn’t even take my helmet off. I didn’t like how the Vespa was arranged so I put the camera down on the seat and move the scooter off the center stand. If you look closely at the picture you might imagine what is going to happen next.

The scooter drops off the stand after a good hard push. I relax and the scooter tire rolls back off the road. The bump causes the camera to fly. I have to take my hand off the bars to steady it on the seat. The front wheel turns to the left and the scooter is taking on a life of its own. As I wrestle with it the Nikon D200 starts to slide. I am faced with a decision. Save the camera or save the scooter.

I grab for the camera and the scooter begins a slow descent towards the ground. My right hand is still firmly grasping the rail around the seat but the decision has already been made. As beautiful as the GTS is it looks bad lying on its side along the road. I continue to make bad decisions by not taking a picture of it in repose.

I get the scooter back up and the only damage is some gouges and scratches to the side. I have begun thinking about riding patina. It has been suggested that the optimum state of a Vespa is to look unused. That sort of flies in the face of the moment and of the use I put it to. I am going to have a user version of the Vespa.

It won’t be until I get home that the pain in my right arm blossoms, a result of unconsciously trying to save a lost cause. A visit to the doctor on Monday confirms a strained rotator cuff. No riding for a few days. My arm still hurts. On a scale of 1 to 10 for pain I offered 8. I’m a wimp though and not real smart of late.

The scooter still runs fine and I continue on in hopes of seeing elk and stop for a moment to admire a birch forest. Uncommon for Pennsylvania.

Elk could appear anywhere now. The herd is the only free ranging herd east of the Mississippi River. The native herd disappeared at the turn of the century but around World War I elk from the West were reintroduced and have now established a viable population.

I see the first elk from a place called the Winslow Hill Elk Viewing Area. The state has built a little observation area above a valley where they often roam. You can see them in the distance above the sign.

I wanted to see one up close. My dream was to have one next to the Vespa in fog. I ride on until a Harley rider waves me down and points towards a field.

Across a stream is a bull elk. That is as close as I’ll come on this trip.

This region of Pennsylvania is isolated. I stopped to try and call Kim to let her know where I was. Not sure why I thought there would be any cell coverage.

The ride was relaxing and I had a lot of fun and I stopped frequently just to look at the landscape. Even though the water levels were down on Wyckoff Run the sound of a small waterfall was like music.

The last unusual event on the trip occurred while I was stopped for lunch and looking over an atlas for possible routes home. A red Miata flies by and stops, backs up, and rolls down the window. Stacy and Gina are regular readers of Scooter in the Sticks and saw me sitting there. Small world.

My right arm started to ache during the last 50 miles and by evening I arrived at unsettling pain. It has taken several days of scattered attempts to get this post together. For some reason typing is an especially bad activity.

The ride was great even with the scooter drop and damaged shoulder. And the ride never fails to trigger a lot of ideas and issues to wrestle with. I’m ready to roll again. Another day or so and I should be in good shape.

A Blogging Community

I've listened to dismissals of blogging as nothing more than personal spewing on the Internet. Spewing. Asked recently about privacy concerns I replied I don't post anything I wouldn't share with a stranger on the road. I differentiate personal and private, a line that varies from person to person.

There is a community of bloggers writing about riding, scooter, and motorcycles. Bill Sommers, author of Little Billy's Scooter Tales, describes himself as a Scooter Evangelist. I suspect most of us who invest time and energy are doing so in part to share what we find important. The words, pictures and ideas I rind through the blogging community help fill gaps in inspiration and understanding.

John Rana, author of Who Rides a Vespa, recently did a profile on me as "part of the American Vespa scene". Those words surprised me because I had not considered what place or role I play on that level. The fact that John is in the Philippines is some indication on the reach blogs can have. As so often is the case it is someone else's observation that shines a light in my own perception.

Who Rides a Vespa offers a look at the state of things for scooter riders in another part of the world. And it reflects on the reach of the community of moto-bloggers.

It was an honor to work with John Rana and if you want to see the profile click the link below:

Rider’s Profile - Amerivespa series: Steve Williams

Seeking a Path

The Vespa and the camera play parallel roles. Each is a means to seek out a path. With the scooter it is quite literal. With the camera the path is more subtle and hard to see. Yesterday morning I left with no physical destination in mind. Photographically there was no path in sight as I stopped along Spring Creek.

I am certain the Vespa helps embrace my need to look around not only on the road but alongside it as well. The complete comfort of traveling slowly allows me to see things I would miss going 35 MPH or faster. I wonder if it would be difficult to travel so slowly for long periods of time on a motorcycle capable of speeds in excess of 100 MPH. The nature of the beast might rail against such pedestrian travel.

I have been having an on-again off-again relationship with medium format photography using black and white film. I am seeking a path, a subject area that will catch fire in my imagination. I wander around the side of the creek awhile before I expose a few frames.

Later I find myself looking at a familiar tree, one I have photographed before. Like an old friend I have to stop and say hello. There is something there that I have not recognized yet that keeps bringing the camera back. Something I haven't figured out. So I take another picture.

There are several rolls of film on my desk waiting for me to take a trip to my darkroom. The digital process and instant gratification is in direct contrast to the film development and printing process. I definitely feel the tug and pull of opposing forces. My hope is the ride will sort things out and reveal the path I seek.

Habits of Industry

I read it on the inside of a bottle cap.

"A man who gives his children habits of industry provides for them better than by giving them a fortune." Richard Whatley

My parents gave me those gifts but I'm not sure I took them. Hard work over a long time has been my habit but on closer inspection they have mostly been labors of love. A habit of industry would have me playing the piano and guitar, speaking German and Italian, and the grass would be mowed, trim painted and the garden weed free. Those aren't labors of love.

Reading Doug Klassen's post Someday Might Slip By on Forty Years on Two Wheels about blogging, riding, not riding, and generally how time slips by if you aren't careful with it made the bottle cap wisdom leap out as a reminder from above. Good thing I was riding a bit and paying attention.

I have been struggling for years to develop better habits of industry and not just live on inspiration to move me to action. I don't want to have to be in the mood to work. If I wait for the mood to hit me to paint the trim around the house it just won't happen.

I'm sitting at Barnes and Noble writing this just finishing up the dessert course. The Vespa is sitting right outside the window and I can watch people stop for a quick peek. I took the long way to get here considering I hadn't planned to ride this way.

Stopped in town to look at the old fire escape on the Odd Fellows Hall. I have photographed it a number of times and I don't seem to tire of looking at it. And I never have been able to figure out exactly what the Independent Order of Odd Fellows actually does. Even a look at their Web site didn't help.

Riding through Lemont I stopped to look at the restored grain elevator and coal storage bins.

The Granary is one of those beautiful architectural gems than don't often manage to get saved or restored.

Found another farm lane disappearing up along a cornfield that I couldn't resist.

Getting more and more comfortable off the pavement. At the top of the hill was another view I've not seen before. I suspect there are many more.

I think I am almost ready to practice a habit of industry and mow the grass. Or wash the car. Both are unsavory tasks that don't ever really need done do they?

Hell, I suppose its all part of growing up.