Deconstructing the Harley Image

My friend Paul doesn’t always live up to my expectations of a Harley rider. There is no black leather or biker look – at least in my own image of what that is. There are times when he does live up to it though. At 7:45am on Saturday while I was getting the Vespa ready to ride into town to meet Paul I watched a rumbling Road King pass by the house, it’s rider in a black T-shirt, shaved head, no helmet, jeans, and black leather engineer boots. I’m standing in the driveway pulling on overpants and a windbreaker underneath my armored jacket being the sissy. The temperature was 67 degrees. Cold for me on a bike. Or scooter. But that was a Harley rider. Paul is like that too. He under-dresses in my opinion at times. Just not in a manner that fits my image of a Harley-Davidson rider. We stopped on the way out of town so he could add another layer. A red windbreaker. I found out yesterday that the jacket belonged to a woman he is dating. Just happened to be in the sidebag.

We planned to ride from State College to Belleville for breakfast via the scenic route over Pine Grove Mountain. Paul was on his new Harley Crossbones that he bought on eBay. That’s not how a person should come to Harley is it? Shouldn’t there be some sort of ritual involving beer and blood or something? I guess I am remembering the brother of my best friend growing up back in the 1960s outside of Pittsburgh. He dropped out of high school, got himself a girlfriend to impregnate, kept a chopper in his dingy apartment, got arrested for trying to buy morphine (again) at a local pharmacy with a fake prescription and generally involved himself in a slow but steady decline. He’s in a nursing home now at age 60 after some acquaintances pitched him down some stairs for some breach in etiquette. Perhaps my vision of the Harley has been perverted. Maybe I have attitude. I still like some of them though. The lingering effects of Then Came Bronson perhaps.

Saturday morning was lovely with temperatures hovering just under 70 degrees. We stopped a few times to make pictures but I generally am not motivated photographically when the sun is out and the skies are blue. Paul took charge since he was in the lead. Whenever he pulled over to shoot something I pulled out the camera and snapped a shot. Like the one above just outside McAlevey’s Fort.

The lake at Greenwood Furnace State Park reflects the serenity of the day. The road was as peaceful as that picture looks disturbed only by the rumble of my Vespa and Paul’s Harley.

We stopped at the Belleville Livestock Auction facility to see if the little diner there was open for breakfast. It wasn’t but I had the opportunity to photograph Paul in a heroic pose more in keeping with part of my Harley vision. Something better aligned with the Marlboro image too.

But then he goes and wrecks it by saying; “Take my picture with straw on my head.” I oblige but what the hell is that all about? Isn’t he afraid his Crossbones will be repossessed?

On to Dairyland in Reedsville for breakfast. I make the obligatory photo of my Vespa in front of the big cow. I feel like a tourist. Everyone is watching me. I imagine them thinking “how cool is that fellow…”

Breakfast is good. The standard scrambled eggs, home fries and toast for me. I passed on the bacon for some stupid reason I regret now. But it was fine. While dining a fellow who saw our cameras stopped to suggest we might want to photograph an Amish barn raising about 5 miles down the valley. I’m thinking he’s setting us up; it’s a trap where our machines will be appropriated. Another Amish criminal sting operation. That’s where my head is.

Paul doesn’t take his Harley ownership lightly. He keeps the machine sparkling and he displays the requisite number of skulls on his clothing. But something still feels off to me.

Sure enough there actually was a barn raising. From the safe distance of the road I make a few pictures. Paul on the other hand rides his Harley down the farm lane and right up to the barn to talk with the Amish workers. He’s fearless that way. I suppose that’s why he’s on a Harley and I’m on a Vespa.

While he learns about post and beam construction I talk with the milk cans. Actually I thought this sort of operation was illegal now in Pennsylvania. In days gone by the bulk milk trucks would pick these things up and take them to the milk plant. But as I understand things the milk has to remain refrigerated from farm to plant. Maybe these are just for decoration.

It was a fine morning ride. Sixty miles or so for breakfast and a barn raising. A good day and a good ride with a friend. Even if he doesn’t fit my vision of a Harley rider.

First Ride on a Vespa

Essa went for her first ride on the Vespa yesterday afternoon. Kim called to tell me the ashes were ready to be picked up at the vet’s office and wondered if I might be able to swing by on my way home. Before going on with this story I need to say something about Centre Animal Hospital. They have been a blessing during the past week and have provided outstanding care for Essa for as long as we have been going there. When Dr. Deb Smart performed emergency surgery at 3am on a Sunday morning about 6 years ago to deal with a gastric tortion volvolus she gave us six additional years with our dog. And she was with Essa at the end. We could not have asked for anything more from a veterinarian or a clinic.

Essa’s ashes were delivered in a small wooden box with flowers carved in the lid and a small brass plaque etched with “Essa”. The box was inside a plain brown paper bag with a heart drawn on the side along with a paw print made from one of Essa’s paws. Seeing that drew a sad smile. As I carefully place the bag in the rear bag on the Vespa I said out loud, “You’re going for a ride pretty girl.” I’ve said the same thing countless times as she climbing into a car or truck but she never had the pleasure of a ride on the scooter. As I traveled home by a loping route through the valley I imagined how excited she would have been in a sidecar, Doggles in place, taking in the air and smells from a complex world.

We stopped along Spring Creek at a place Essa liked to swim. It’s been a long time since she was in the water due to weakening legs. But I could see her leaping into the stream and paddling around forever if I didn’t make her leave.

I realized as I made my way home that the dog traveled these routes with me before. In the truck searching for rocks for the garden, in the car on an outing to make photographs. This was her world as well as mine. And now it was hers for good.

Kim and I aren’t sure what we’ll do with the ashes. We’ll probably spread them in the places she loved. For now she’ll sit alongside her departed companion Iggy Pup until they make their last walk together.

Dog of My Dreams

Essa McCloud

July 4, 1993 - June 22, 2009

Early this evening our dog Essa passed quietly from this world. She was quite simply the dog of my dreams and I will miss her. Stoic through chronic conditions of old dog age she was gentle and loving to the end.

Already I feel the absence of our nightly walks. Standing at the end of the driveway looking up at the stars I can feel her in me. She taught me how to be thoughtful and as author James Thurber noted "Dogs are obsessed with being happy". I witnessed that in her. And that happiness rubbed off on Kim and I.

I made this picture yesterday afternoon. Essa was bright and happy despite severe spinal arthritis, kidney and liver disease, and the march of time on her body. Her fire burned bright despite these setbacks.

Not long afterwards she collapsed in the yard and we took her to the emergency veterinary clinic. A night in the clinic followed and then to our vet where for a time there was a glimmer of hope that she would rally and improve. By morning though she was fading. Lying on the floor of a kennel with closed eyes I did not see her get up again.  Her body had enough living.

Kim and I stayed with her awhile in the morning and afternoon and planned to return in the evening when we got the call -- a sudden decline and she was dying. Essa passed away just minutes before we arrived. The vet told us she was quiet and didn't suffer. He body gave up just before her 16th birthday.

There was a skylight over the place where she died and as I looked up at the blue sky I imagined her flying free now unencumbered by her failed body. It's selfish of me but I wish she had stayed a bit longer.

The house is quiet and the empty place she once occupied is palpable. For those of you who have had dogs living in the home you'll understand.

I know the sadness will pass and the good memories will take it's place. But right now that's hard to believe.

Remember Father's Day

The morning brought heavy rain and the Vespa stayed in the garage. If the weather had been perfect for riding I still would not have ridden because I had breakfast plans with my oldest daughter. An  pre-Father's Day event. After breakfast in Bellefonte we drove to Saint's Cafe in State College for a cup of tea and something sweet. I find I continue to be powerless to not eat things from the chocolate family.

I thought a lot about Father's Day today and my daughters Hannah and the youngest Aleta (in faraway NYC).  For those of you who are fathers you know what's involved. For those of you who still might become one someday my only advice is the same I give to new riders --- pay attention, things happen fast. Looking at Hannah I find it hard to account for the time. How did she grow up so fast? I remember my father telling me about being a father when I was just 10 or 11. He said that when your kids are young they think you're pretty smart. At about 16 they begin thinking you are not real bright and that it will continue until they are in their mid 30's. And then you get real smart again.

I won't engage in conjecture on where my daughters are in this continuum.

The cake goes too fast as well. Pay attention and savor each moment with it. So on Father's Day maybe it's a good thing to pay attention. And as riders let's all pay attention so that we can return home to those we love.

I've been blessed as a father to two wonderful daughters.

More Solitude in the Sticks

Alexander Pope, 1688-1744.
ODE ON SOLITUDE
Happy the man, whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound,
In his own ground.
Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,
Whose flocks supply him with attire,
Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
In winter fire.
Blest, who can unconcern'dly find
Hours, days, and years slide soft away,
In health of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by day,
Sound sleep by night; study and ease,
Together mixt; sweet recreation;
And innocence, which most does please
With meditation.
Thus let me live, unseen, unknown,
Thus unlamented let me die,
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lie.

Solitude has much been on my mind of late and I suppose has been reflected to some degree in the photographs I make. I believe there is a measure of psychology available through the pictures one makes. I came across the poem by Alexander Pope and was struck by the simplicity I seek through solitude and by extension through riding.

An early breakfast in Bellefonte at the Café on the Park, a favorite, offered a quiet place to eat and read the paper before going to work. While I have no herds or fields supplying me with milk and bread I imagine the café as just a few simple steps away. A lot of years have passed since Pope wrote his poem.

I sat at the counter, something I seldom do. Looking at the place I found it more like an old general store than a restaurant. It has it’s own unique charm and I’m glad I found it.

The ride yesterday morning was cold enough that I had to stop to put the liner in my First Gear Kilimanjaro IV riding jacket to be comfortable. At 64 degrees I’m a wuss. Looking at the Vespa parked between Interstate 99 passing overhead I’m reminded of how small and insignificant the scooter is on the road. I left with a renewed sense of rider responsibility.

I learned what benthic invertebrates are while photographing two scientists working in Spring Creek. This big gravel lot used to be the site of the McCoy Dam near Milesburg, Pennsylvania before it was torn out a few years ago to allow Spring Creek to return to it’s natural flow. The two women at the van were pulling on their waders to begin sampling in the creek which flows on the right. They’ve been studying how the ecosystems restore themselves after a big disturbance like the removal of a dam. As a value-added educational feature of Scooter in the Sticks I’ll let you research the meaning of benthic invertebrates. (grin)

Quiet by day,

On roads like this there is ample supply of quiet both for the ear and the eye. It surprises me at times how I continue to be drawn to these places.

At the end of the day at the southern end of the valley I found myself in another quiet place. Visually at least. While making this photograph a large truck full of liquid manure pulled in to begin spreading it’s nutrient goodness on an open field behind me. Something I’ve learned is you don’t want to cross paths with a working manure truck.

While the day was full of work it also provided more lessons in solitude. I know many riders abhor being alone on the road choosing travel to pig roasts and poker runs and the socialization that follows. Maybe I’ll learn to appreciate those events someday. For now I still find value in the sweet recreation of solitude on the road.

Ride to Work: I Did

A quick stop when I got to campus to record a piece of my ride to work. I expected to see more motorcycles and scooters on the ride to work but perhaps I was out too early or the 59 degree air kept some riders in bed a bit longer.  

Today is Ride to Work Day.  I'm reminded of a lot of the advantages of riding my Vespa to work over driving the truck.  Better parking space, cheaper parking space, less expense in owning and operating the scooter vs. the truck, and the commute is far more rewarding.

For a few more arguments on the benefits of riding check out the video below.

What about you?

Ride to Work Day 2009

Don't forget to get up early so you can get a good parking space. There will be a run on available motorcycle spaces because Monday June 15, 2009 is Ride to Work Day.

I ride as much as I can throughout the year for general transportation AND I find recreation and relaxation on two wheels. Tomorrow gives us all an opportunity to share a little part of this with non-riders and increase awareness and understanding on the road.

Let's show non-riders how many of us there are!

Alone and Open on the Road

Thick, gray clouds and 62-degree air welcomed me to the road on Saturday morning. With a light rain jacket stowed beneath the seat and three cameras in the rear bag I left the house thinking about photographs. It didn’t take long until I was thinking about being alone.

My head fills with chatter by the end of the workweek often leading to a muddy view of things. Riding alone is one of the reliable methods of draining it away and leaving me with a clean perspective. I saw a picture recently on Jack Riepe’s Twisted Throttle blog of an Etch-A-Sketch that he suggested was a GPS unit belonging to a friend. When I saw it and remembered how elegantly those little devices could be made clean again with just a few shakes I realized a solitary ride through the countryside works the same magic for me. I’m grateful I don’t require anything more drastic.

Central Pennsylvania is blessed with secondary secondary roads. Roads that in the height of use have little traffic and allow for leisurely rides and extra attention on the landscape. Seeing the yellow lines disappear in the distance always gives me a little rush even though I know what’s out there.

The steel bridge is gated and locked and leads into land owned by the Pennsylvania Bureau of Corrections. Rockview State Penitentiary in this case. A deal is underway to transfer ownership of a huge tract of land to Penn State and the local community. Someday I hope to see this bridge open so I can explore what lies beyond.

By the time I was moving through Fisherman’s Paradise and heading towards Bellefonte I was in the flow with a clear head and thinking about breakfast. Aside from a few ducks and the occasional trout fisherman I had the place largely to myself.

I stopped at Cool Beans in Bellefonte for a bite to eat and the chance to make a few notes. While there I had the chance to eavesdrop on a man and woman, both around 40, who appeared to be meeting for the first time after some sort of Internet dating connection. I found myself wishing my hearing was sharper as I picked up fragments of their conversation. It was all about marketing and positioning as they closed a deal to meet again.

Draining the last of my double Bergamot tea it was time to head into town to buy some film and developer. I did manage to expose a roll of film in the Mamiya 7 with the panorama adapter inside and may find time to get into the darkroom again.

Another ride alone on the Vespa worked its magic.

Motorcycle Maintenance: Back on the Road Again

Almost a month has passed since my last post. During that time my local Vespa dealer worked diligently to solve my rear brake problem and finally determined a failed rear caliper was the culprit. After a brief wait for parts I got the GTS back with what seems like a monster powered rear brake. It's during times like these I fantasize about learning to do some of the motorcycle maintenance myself. Once I'm back on the road those fantasies evaporate. Gone. Who cares. Such is the nature of my desire to turn wrenches. Maybe when I mature a bit I'll change.

I did feel fortunate to have purchased an extended warranty on the Vespa.  I never buy extended warranties but for some reason I bought an extra three years of coverage.  And it more than paid for itself on the recent troubles with the rear brake.

There have been a lot of fine riding days missed. I know why many riders have two machines. No reason to be sidelined because of some repair issue. Someday perhaps. My wife expressed a passing comment that it would be nice to have a scooter so she could ride along on some of my adventures. I've spent some time looking at alternatives. Who knows.

The ride to work this morning was fine, a thin morning fog gave way to a little glistening light when I stopped to make this picture.

I had lunch yesterday with my friend Gordon at Otto's Pub and Brewery in State College. Gordon and I have been working on the 3 Prints Project but an illness in the family has kept me from getting together with him. It was nice to see a friendly face and have a good cheeseburger.

It was a good cheeseburger. So good that I didn't think of a picture until a less than gourmet view was available.  

It's good to be back on the road again.