The Slow Ride

Turning off PA route 45 into an empty field marked the moment of surrender---a transition to something slow and without expectation. It was a sudden and unexpected release of plans to ride far and explore new roads and landscapes. Rolling off the throttle, the speed drops to a pace where I have time to see what’s around me. I’ve chosen the slow ride.

Motorcycle (and scooters) offer a seductive experience of speed and power. Flying along there is a feeling of command and control that doesn’t often appear anywhere else for a lot of people. At least for me.

Riding slow, 20 – 35 MPH, requires effort and commitment. The noise and pace of living tries to push me to go faster, do more, pack as much experience and cover as many miles as possible in the time available. Anything less and I’m shortchanging myself. From that frame of reference the slow ride is something for the meek and feint of heart, those not courageous enough to ride the beast. The slow ride is for scooters.

Standing in the field looking towards the sun soon to crest the ridge I could feel all my plans drift away. I had nowhere to go, no place to be, and nothing to prove. As much as is possible I was free.

At slow speeds I see lots of things to photograph. I stop often, make U-turns, pull over, park the scooter and look around. It doesn’t matter how few miles I travel.

It was 68° F with clear skies when I left just before sunrise. After stopping for cash at an ATM I rode south with no destination in mind save for breakfast somewhere. I turned the Vespa off the road when I saw sunlight begin to lick across a field.

Watching the sun rise reminded me how alive I feel seeing the dawn. It’s the same everywhere for me, mountain, ocean, desert, or city.

On across the valley towards the Scotia Barrens. The temperature had risen to 72° F, fine for a long sleeve shirt and mesh riding jacket.

The Barrens is an odd place though and the unique soils found their radiates heat back into space at night causing unusually low temperatures in the morning, sometimes as much as 30° lower than the surrounding area.

As I entered the woods the sunlight gave way to a light fog and I saw the temperature drop 25° by the time I pulled over to put on another layer of clothes.

Once away from the Barrens it didn’t take long for the fog to vanish and the temperature to reach 68° F. By this time I decided to head back towards town for a cup of tea and blueberry muffin for breakfast to chase away any lingering chill.

Before breakfast I had to stop at a local fruit stand for a Red Delicious and a Honeycrisp apple. This is the time of year where a place like Way’s Fruit Farm shines.

Sitting at a table next to the window in a local Starbucks I began to write this post. That was on September 22. I’m not good but I am slow…

I didn’t go anywhere or do anything but the rushing man’s definition of accomplishment. I wasn’t in a hurry and didn’t need to be anywhere. If I had any cares I must have left them behind somewhere. A slow ride will do that to you.

Small Detour During the Ride to Work

One thing that’s sure to extend the time it takes to get to work is fog. Not because traffic slows (it doesn’t) but because I choose longer routes and stop more often to take pictures. And the longer trips means I have to get up earlier and that’s only possible if I pay attention the night before to the weather forecast.

Friday morning I was up early to compare the dawn to the forecast. Outside the bedroom window I saw our spruce trees shrouded in fog. It was denser than I thought which meant I couldn’t stop along the shoulderless roads like I could on clear day for fear that someone would run me, the Vespa, or both down as they rushed to work.

I pulled over along the main route into town from the north to clean my visor and take a picture. If I stayed on this road I would be at work in a few minutes. Time for a detour.

The area has many small and winding secondary roads that are ideal for the non-rushed rider. Even more intriguing are the farm lanes that disappear off into fields and woods. Most see little traffic save for those times of year when farm machinery move on them. The one I took is an exception and sees heavy use in the fall when Penn State football fans use it to access some of the sprawling parking areas that surround Beaver Stadium.

Portable lights used when the games are at night dot the landscape and in the fog look more like something out of the X-Files than related to football. I’ve been on this road many times before in rain, snow, and fog and each time it looks different.

After photographing the small group of trees it was time to ride to work. The fog was so wet that the visor stayed up and my glasses dripped with water. About a half mile from my office the fog ended abruptly as the Vespa and I rode into bright sun under a clear blue sky.

As much as possible I try to the rides to and from work from being a boring commute. As short as it is I know that I can make it a miserable chore. Riding makes the commute better than it was driving and much of the success I have is a direct result of the landscape in which I live. I suspect the right frame of mind is even more important.

Summer Rushed By

Where did it go? So many plans and so little time. And the pace at work has increased with lots of new things to learn. I feel as if I am trying to pack 36 hours of living into a 24-hour day. And I am having fun at the same time, a big swirl of chaos and activity. In order to stay somewhat grounded and composed I find a quiet ride home is good medicine. With the days already growing shorter I get to see the change in light.

I have a lot of ideas and plans on paper for posts but am not finding the time to follow through right now but I just wanted to let you know I haven't fallen off the earth. Or the Vespa.

Stay tuned. (Does anyone under 50 actually remember that reference?)

50 degrees, Apples, and the Coming of Winter

Let me be the first to raise the alarm. Winter is coming. The air, the light, the chill that cut through me brought the horizon into view and it was winter. The Big Dipper was as bright and clear in the night sky as I can remember and I knew it would be cold in the morning. Sleeping in the cold air is great and to just make the night perfect Kim and I were awakened in the middle of the night by a Screech Owl's whinny.

At 50° I have to protect myself, especially my hands so out came the windproof jacket worn underneath my First Gear Kilimanjaro IV riding jacket. And the heavy winter gloves, just one stop away from the mittens. I hate being cold but I love to ride so I bundle up.

The light was intense as I stopped to look at the play of shadow, light and color in a group of pine trees. It is the kind of light that appears with the onset of fall and signals winter. I'm grinning as I write this. I love the challenge of colder weather.

Apples. I'm really wandering away from riding now. A Honeycrisp apple to be precise. I was at the Cellar Market at Penn State, a small fruit, flower and vegetable market that sells produce grown on the many Penn State Research Farms.

This Honeycrisp is fresh and its good. A student was running a taste test with five apple varieties. I recognized four of them but had never heard of the Honeycrisp apple. One bite and I was transported back to 1965 sitting in a neighbor's apple tree with three or four of my friends. Every self-respecting 11 year old carried a pocket knife so we were all busy slicing and eating apples, two-legged locusts moving from tree to tree. But I digress.

A bite of that Honeycrisp was EXACTLY the apple taste I remembered. It was incredible. The label for those apples read "explosively crisp". Sweet-tart, juicy, and they were explosively crisp. I bought the last two they had. The other crates still had lots of apples. And I sort of turned into a Honeycrisp evangelist. The day was exceptional because I had an exceptional apple. And we are entering apple season in Pennsylvania so there will be a lot of fresh apples.

Small Reminders in the Rain

Rain was falling and the driveway was covered with leaves when I pushed the Vespa out of the garage. A signal that fall is on the way. Mist shrouded Mount Nittany in the distance and I could not resist a riding a slightly longer route to work. The valley was lush and crops of corn and soybeans near harvest---more reminders of the impending change in season.

On mornings like this a few minutes alone along the road looking around changes the way I see things. Not just the landscape in front of me. It changes the way the day unfolds. I'm able to stay attuned to the small reminders the world throws my way. Later at work while scouting in a production plant I shuddered as I walked through 30 below zero air flowing from the open overhead door of a storage freezer. My mind took me to some of the coldest rides I've made, days that grow closer everyday.

For me the prime riding season is just beginning. Colder air, more dramatic color and light, and a sharpening of the senses dulled by the heat of summer. Patterns and textures emerge in the landscape that always seem hidden to me in hot weather. The rain stopped and it was time to move on to work even though I wanted to stay and watch the clouds clear along the ridge.

Vespa Photographs

I was looking for a picture of my Vespa and realized I had forgotten about a lot of the ones I have made over the past couple years. So I have decided to post them here just for those of you who would like to immerse yourselves in the beauty of the Vespa that appear in Scooter in the Sticks.

While looking through the old posts I was surprised at how fresh the rides were in my head. Seeing the pictures triggered the memories. And I could see how my eye has changed towards the Vespa. These pictures are of my first scooter, an LX150, and the current Vespa GTS 250ie.

And don't forget to click on the images for a full size version!

So here are some of my favorites....