More Signs of Winter

Seeing the deer warning sign reminded me that it wouldn’t be long until the fields and forests of Central Pennsylvania will be full of hunters. Another sign of the coming of winter. The past few nights have brought heavy frost and chilly morning rides. Clear skies and bright sun warm the days into the sixties and it’s easy to push the cold mornings out of awareness.

Another reminder of the coming of winter was a contact from Dave Mangano, creator, author, and radio talent behind SCTRCST.COM, Scooter Internet Radio. Dave asked if we could talk about winter riding and that brought home the cold weather approach even more. You can listen to our discussion of winter riding HERE.

If you’ve not listened to SCTRCST it is well worth your time. Dave has put together a wonderful collection of interviews, stories, and information about scooters and riding.

Regardless of what cold weather might come tomorrow the weather right now is fantastic. Color, light, and the crisp feel of fall can work together to produce near perfect rides. The Vespa likes the cold air and so do I.

Vespa GTS 250ie --- 6000 Mile Service

A few days ago I brought my scooter home from Kissell Motorsports via a short, meandering ride through the sticks after they completed the 6000-mile service interval. The odometer read 6001 when I pulled in the driveway. This service involved changing the engine oil, filter, variator rollers, belt inspection, and a variety of other looks at things to make sure the Vespa was in good working order. I also had a new Pirelli tire mounted on the front wheel.

When I get time I am going to put together a longer review of the GTS and my thoughts on ownership after 6000 miles and nine months of ownership. For now lets just say it’s been an enjoyable experience.

The roads were wet here and there intermittent rains fell between openings of brilliant sunshine. Really looks and feels like fall here, at least during the ride home. Sitting here now writing it’s dark and 30 degrees and seems more like winter to my sluggish morning brain.

The Vespa is mechanically ready for winter though I have to admit right now I’m not nearly as ready. I need to get my head around riding to work again in the cold and dark. Today I need the truck to haul some equipment so the scooter will stay in the garage. Sounds great now but I know the minute I see the sun glow on the horizon I’ll wish I were riding.

Fall Ruby Ride

I made this portrait of my friend and sometimes riding partner during a ride this past Sunday. I had a good time and realized he has to be pretty patient not only to ride along with a scooter, but with a rider that stops all the time to make pictures. Paul Ruby is a photographer in his own rite but doesn't find his subjects rolling along the roads of Central Pennsylvania the way I do. So here's a short dispatch from a Fall Ruby ride.

A man casts a sideways glance our way as Paul talks loudly about baking the perfect chocolate cake from scratch. I see the man gesturing to his girlfriend as Paul explains the careful observational skills necessary to accurately use a toothpick to determine when the cake is done.

We’re sitting at the counter of the Family Chill and Grill near Tyrone, Pennsylvania. While we eat a hearty breakfast of bacon, eggs, and home fried potatoes our small audience has a chance to see two serious riders. Me and my good friend Paul Ruby.

A few hours earlier I was waiting for Paul to buy a copy of the Sunday New York Times. It’s a prodigious paper and fills one saddle bag on his Kawasaki Concours.

Papered and ready to go we head south out of town along Whitehall Road. Even though the landscape was plain and made more so by the bright light I just had to stop to pose the Vespa against the dried field of soybeans.

With an equally plain subject presenting itself to Paul he takes out his camera and records me recording the scooter.

Not far down the road is another field of dreg pumpkins. This one didn’t appear to warrant harvesting. The dry weather made these poor prospects for Jack O’Lanterns. Again Paul turns the camera on me but I fight back with a picture of my own.

I think photographers enjoy being in front of the camera. We don't often get to be the subject.

The road winds south through more farm and forestland. I stop often to look around and make snapshots.

The road runs close to the woods keeping it in shade and making the view of the long run of trees on the opposite side of the valley look even more brilliant.

Paul doesn’t just stand around waiting for me. He’s actively pursuing a flexible back and can be seen here doing one of his exercises. I do the same myself now and again but have not yet worshiped on the road.

The landscape opens and affords some nice views as we near Spruce Creek. Hills and valleys seem to just go on and on.

So do the roads. A bit further south takes us through an area where another group of Amish have settled.

They haven’t been here long enough to develop the kind of agricultural enterprises seen in other areas. Their places are plain and simple, conversions of farmsteads once belonging to the English. I don’t think I could ever been that connected to the land. I just want to keep moving and seeing.

Eventually we get to the Family Chill and Grill Restaurant for breakfast and the man and woman listening to Paul's story about baking. From there it covers the Italian class he's taking in preparation for a trip to Italy and then on to a discussion of scooters and motorcycles and how people think about minimum power necessary for riding, riding safely, and riding within their ego limits. But that's for another post. We left to go home, each having our own chores to do but I suspect Paul had some complicated mechanical or cooking adventure ahead. This picture is just an example taken by his daughter as he wrestles with on of his vehicles.

Some of you might have seen Paul's Ecletic Scooter Page that appears in my links list. But if you want to see something really eclectic check out his main page.

Another day of riding and a good time all around.

Evening Errands

Tiresome, tedious errands by car are transformed into exquisite little adventures on the Vespa. Riding in the waning autumn light, taking in the fragrance of falling leaves, feeling the sudden chill in the air just after the sun goes down make each errand moment a pleasure.

I had to go to the ATM for cash, to the video store to return a movie, and then on to the bookstore. The six-mile direct route gave way to a 12-mile ramble executed at near bicycle speeds. Well, maybe Lance Armstrong speeds. Riding this way makes me a tourist in my own neighborhood.

By the time I got to Barnes and Noble to pick up a Sunday New York Times crossword puzzles book for Kim meant I could linger a bit at the dessert case of the café. I’m usually powerless in this area but managed to leave without any sugar purchases. The regret was so great though that I had to stop at a local coffee shop for a coconut chocolate chip scone.

The days continue to shorten and soon the after work errands won’t be possible in the same manner. Fading light will become darkness. Add much colder air and the trip palette is completely different. Not bad. Just different.

UPDATE ON TRAUMA 13

Talked with my friend John last night. He’s doing better and expects to be transferred from the hospital to a rehab facility later this week to begin the healing process for his leg. He says he plans to ride again but will have to wait and see what his leg will allow. We talked a bit about the accident but I post more at another time.

SCOOTERLESS

Left my Vespa GTS 250ie in the capable and caring hands of Kisselmotorsports in State College, Pennsylvania today for its 6000-mile service. For the past month or so I have been scribbling notes for a 6000-mile review. Stay tuned for that.

I have a few days off ahead and hopefully the Vespa will be back so I can take advantage of a few more fall days for riding.

Pumpkin Riding

Traveling on a narrow gravel road southwest of town brings me past a pumpkin patch. This one definitely won’t be visited by Charlie Brown’s Great Pumpkin. Only the dregs remain – all the good pumpkins are loaded on a wagon just down the road. As a kid I loved this time of year best, at least until Christmas rolled around.

Riding is superb in late fall. The temperature drops far enough where I am not reminded every time I stop of the protective gear I’m wearing. And the light often is muted by a fall haze and slightly overcast skies making things easy on the eyes not to mention the emerging natural palette of reds, yellows, and oranges. No matter how great I think this time of year is for riding I know it’s not a universally held belief. This evening I listened to another rider planning battery tenders, fuel stabilizer, and the exact placement of his motorcycle in the garage. Any suggestion on my part of continuing to ride was met with the same incredulous look that accompanies a suggestion to keep the community pool past Labor Day. It’s just not done.

If owning a scooter or motorcycle means certain rules, customs, and standards are expected to be followed someone failed to send me the paperwork. I ride farther into the season because it makes sense. And over time the whole year has become riding season.

The coming weeks will bring dramatic changes to the landscape. The kind of changes that are interesting to see on two wheels. There’s nothing wrong with winterizing now if that makes sense but I have to wonder if some kind of mass hypnosis has taken hold of the riding community when it comes to this particular decision. Surrender to the weather seems to happen too easily.

Whatever a rider decides is right for them is all that matters. What works for me may be a terrible choice for someone else. The important thing is to make a choice yourself based on your own situation. This is one of those situations where tradition and custom fails.

Choices and decisions. That’s what Pumpkin Riding is all about.

Back in the Sticks

The ride to work this morning after my trip to South Carolina was in the fog. It triggered thoughts about safety and vulnerable situations. Fresh memories of traffic on Interstate 95 and 81 had me questioning the judgment of my fellows on the highway. But it was a beautiful morning and those thoughts can wait for another time.

My daughter commented on my ability to see past the noise and find the empty places. On Myrtle Beach I watched her look for shells and made a picture not unlike some of those that appear on Scooter in the Sticks---spare, empty, alone. But you never know what is just out of the frame. Or behind me. She had a good chuckle when looking at the pictures I took.

I've gotten pretty good at overlooking or ignoring some things in the landscape.

NO Scooter in the Sticks

Six hundred miles from home and the world seems a bit different. Alligators, live oaks, and birds I’ve not seen before. This is a No Scooter in the Sticks entry though. The Vespa is home resting while my daughter and I visit relatives in Georgetown, South Carolina.

The ride down did give me ideas of excellent rides--- the Blue Ridge Parkway being just one. I’ve seen lots of scooters down this way. More than I ever see in Pennsylvania.

Not much time to write and things to do but just wanted to say hello and give a brief update on my friend John. Surgeons put his knee and femur back together and repaired the damage to his face. They still have to repair his lower leg but the swelling is still an issue so that will wait a bit longer. He has been moved out of ICU and into a wing for special injuries so that’s a good sign. He’s in good spirits and everything is looking good.

Trauma 13

While I was on my way to work under clear skies farther south in another valley my friend John was riding his BMW R100 to work in fog along a main artery for commuters. Shortly after 7AM his motorcycle slammed into a garbage truck that pulled into the road as he passed.

Emergency responders came to his aid quickly and took him to a local airport where he was flown to a trauma center. Upon arrival he was designated Trauma 13. Seeing that there is no room 13 in the Intensive Care Unit is was odd that there would be a patient designated Trauma 13.

John’s wife is an instructor for the Motorcycle Safety Foundation. She told me the visor of his helmet was completely covered with blood on the inside. You couldn’t see in. She arrived on the scene minutes after the accident. They didn’t know the rider’s identity but she recognized the pieces of his BMW. And the helmet. As I talked with her at the hospital she told me that she would be planning a funeral if he hadn’t been wearing a helmet.

The oral and maxillofacial surgeon showed us 3D images of his skull. As he manipulated the images to explain the damages it was unnerving to see how fragile everything looked. John was fortunate that the damage was minor. A black eye, a few hairline fractures, and only one small displacement in the bottom of the ocular socket.

John is a lifelong rider. He’s done the Iron Butt and cross country rider. He’s a daily commuter and wears all the gear. While the gear won’t prevent a collision it will help minimize potential damage. He was in and out of sleep when I visited and at one point he asked me where he was and if there was an accident. After briefly explaining the circumstances I told them they had to cut off his new Revit jacket. He responded with “Aww f**k!!!”. While the doctors already confirmed it I knew there were no brain injuries.

The worst damage occurred to John’s right leg that hit the truck door. Since the truck was pulling out into traffic to move to the next pickup he probably hit at a deflected angle which helped minimize damage but his femur was still in pieces and the patella shattered. Looking at the x-rays I thought about former Washington Redskin's quarterback Joe Theismann's leg break during a game with the New York Giants.

An orthopedic team will begin reconstruction Friday morning if the swelling has diminished. Their biggest concern at this point is infection since the bones breached the skin. The armored pants helped keep road dirt and grime on the outside. A pair of jeans would have things dragging through the dirt.

It’s sobering to visit a friend and fellow rider in a hospital. It’s hard not to switch places. It had me reassessing the risk. I haven’t ridden since but only because work has kept me in need of my Ford Ranger. I’ve thought a lot about being Trauma 13. And I know I’ll continue to ride.

John has a long recovery ahead but I suspect he’s already thinking about what to ride next.

Godspeed John.

Riding and Posing

You always think it’s the other guy who’s posing. The one with full racing leathers, wildly colored helmet on a superbike. Or the doo-ragged, gloveless, helmetless, bluejeaned cruiser. It’s easy to judge, dismiss, and point out triumphs of corporate marketing over good sense. Especially when it’s in someone else. Especially from the higher levels of the judgment seat. A glimpse in the mirror though can be troubling. For me at least.

I’ve passed the large granite eagle at a small monument company dozens of times before finally stopping to make a picture – wondering who would actually put this thing over their grave. It’s six feet tall and pretty sinister as it gazes down over the world. While maneuvering around with the camera a Harley rumbles up to the traffic light. He sits stoically looking straight ahead as if nothing in the world concerns him. The rider has on black cowboy boots, jeans, short black leather jacket, no gloves, no helmet, and a pair of cool black sunglasses. Normally I would not have given it a thought but on this morning it was 41 degrees F. Call me a sissy scooter rider but that’s cold when you’re riding.

While I’m thinking about Gerbing electric gloves this gentleman is gloveless. Behind him is a similarly clad female though she does have on a half helmet. She is shivering and struggling to merge her body into his in an attempt to stay warm and out of the wind. Her bare hands clutched around his chest must be cold. She is stylish though. I bet she talks to him later about a windshield. As I climbed up to a higher level of the judgment seat they rumbled off down the road.

The eagle and the gloveless rider started the wheels turning and as so often happens things end up pointing towards me. Looking down at my Vespa I wondered what sort of insensible posing I might be up to. I do try to sit up straight while riding. Wait, that’s posture.

When I first started riding I chose the brightest colored armored jacket in the shop when I bought the Vespa. I didn’t care what it looked like other than bright and armored. Pure function. There are more visible jackets available. HI-Viz with lots of reflective stripes. I still buy yellow and black jackets though. I think I have a style that’s competing with function. I may have assumed another posture.

And then there is riding. Things can get blurry between riding for riding’s sake and riding for blogging’s sake. There’s an audience watching now. Perhaps the best thing for me to do now is climb down from the lofty seat and pay attention to myself. There's no need to judge other people's choices. My own backyard might need some weeding.

The More I Ride, The More I Stop

It was 48 degrees outside when I left. The stark light of fall in the morning was brilliant. I didn’t want to ride a long time. Wanted to get home to work in the garden. Go to the grocery store. Take care of the dog. Hang out with Kim. Read a book.

Still, I wanted to ride a bit so I headed down Brush Valley Road towards Centre Hall. As usual I don’t get far before my eyes are overwhelmed and I need to stop and make a picture. I don’t use that word need lightly. I’m like a dog. Since I first picked up a camera at around 9 years old I have been compelled to point it at the world. I’m used to it now but there still are times when I wish I could turn it off.

Kim loves the light this time of year. I think it radiates differently. It glows and the light appears refracted from a billion fall particles. Whatever it is it makes the Vespa stop a lot.

When I started writing this post I told myself it would be short. Whatever happened to my one picture posts? Those were a lot easier. With more pictures in the camera I feel as if I am hiding something by not sharing them. Even the insignificant ones.

Riding along sinking creek the sun would disappear as the hills crowded the road in shadow making the color and light even more intense when I would break into the open.

I try not to but I pity those who don’t ride. I saw a few bicyclists go by at one point and their heads were down as they pumped away on those low slung bars of their road bikes. I could not help but think they were missing the roses.

At Spring Mills I stop for a bottle of water at one of the vanishing old time country stores.

This was an upscale one. It had two wood stoves. Feeling good and the scooter running well I decided to brave the only road I have ever had dog experiences on. It’s been over a year since the last time I rode here but sure enough the three little beasts were still there, still looking forward to a good chase. My LX150 handily dismissed them. The GTS did just as well.

Heading home I saw an Amish buggy coming down a side road. I never shoot Amish pictures. Except this day.

The fellow driving the buggy actually stopped to comment on the scooter. I commented on his horse which was all lathered with sweat. He said the horse always gets wound up when they go to the store. He loves to go for a ride. I understood. I asked if I could shoot a picture when he went by and he said go right ahead. I was in the wrong position but I tripped the shutter anyways. I wondered which was cheaper to operate.

I put the Vespa in the garage and started to sweep leaves off the driveway. A mediative practice rivaled only by washing dishes. Some days I am not sure which is more relaxing---the ride or the chores. Either way it was good to be home.