Pistons and Pints People

Almost forgot to post these pictures from the last Piston and Pints gathering in Boalsburg, Pennsylvania.  Lots of motorcycles and riders showed up on a range of machines and with varied experience.  Has turned out to be a good place to listen to stories.

All true.

Dave Dix made his first appearance (I think) on his '98 Ducati 748.  Dave still has me confused because I have him fixed in my head as a BMW GS rider.  So far he's shown up with a Honda CRV, a scooter, and now a Ducati.

Maybe the BMW will appearance next time.

When I arrived and saw Ken Hull doing Harley repairs I thought he was instituting some new tradition by providing mechanical services at Pistons and Pints.

No.

He was fixing a defective fuel shutoff valve I think.  Or showing off his mechanical skills.  Or maybe both.

No repair is complete without adding rocket fuel to the tank.  I think he was pouring a 20 year-old single malt scotch into the tank.  Harleys are odd machines.  Turned out it was 100 octane aviation gas or rocket fuel.  He's like most Harley riders and thinks those tired old engines actually require something stronger than kerosene to run.

Bruce made an early departure on his Kawasaki Versys.  Nice red bike shining in the strong evening sun.

Jeff runs the local automotive repair facility in Boalsburg but seems to find time to change the appearance of his '81 Honda CX500 Deluxe.  It's looking more and more like a cafe racer to me but what do I know.  I ride a Vespa.

Cool bike regardless.

John ( I think that's his name) takes the award for the biggest bike at the event -- a 2012 Yamaha XT1200Z Tenere.  Thing seems huge.  He has a folding ladder in the sidecase to facilitate mounting.  Not sure how he gets the ladder back in the case after he's on the bike.

I have a soft spot for these kinds of giant machines -- the big BMW Adventure, the KTMs, the Vespa GTS -- they all seem inspired by John Deere or Kubota.  Real do anything go anywhere motorcycles.

The highlight of the evening for me was eavesdropping on a conversation revolving around how to explain to their significant others that they would be ditching their current rides in favor of a Vespa.

Serious business takes place at Piston and Pints.

I'm going to screw up two names here due to my incompetence with a pencil and paper coupled with neglect is asking for names.

Reta (?),  kneeling with the red shirt, is a motorcycle mechanic at Kissell Motorsports with a special affinity for anything Ducati.  He's been at the last two get togethers and I've watched how people pick his brain for free advice.

I'm waiting for an attorney and rheumatologist to show up.

Dave came with his 2004 BMW R1150 RT.  Another fine entry from the Teutonic motorcycle manufacturer.  My father "worked" at a BMW plant after WWII.  I never quite figured out what the US Army was doing in the place in 1946.  Should have quizzed him while he was still around.

Craig Kissell and his wife came in motorcycle style when they pulled up in Triumph Bonneville with a sidecar.

John Dickison pulled up a few minutes later with his BMW with an elaborate Oxford sidecar.  I've piloted three different sidecar rigs with a brand new URAL being the latest.  They are definitely an acquired taste.

John has taken a big bite.

Kris (left) and Jim made their second appearance at Piston and Pints.  Kris is an MSF Rider Coach and I heard a few people muttering something about having to wear a helmet.  I didn't get the impression Kris would preach to the unwashed crowd in attendance.  She was one of three who showed up ATGATT.

She should talk to Ken though.  He still believes he's 17 and indestructible.  Don't tell anyone this but during a conversation some months back Ken expressed his freedom from helmet or gloves or boots while riding his Harley.  Or something about freedom.  When the conversation turned to a Ducati he said he would wear a full helmet, riding suit, the works.  When I suggested his choices about gear had nothing to do with safety or freedom but were all about style he went to the quiet place men do when confronted with uncomfortable realities.

Maybe I just imagined that.  But I digress.

Kris arrived on this orange 2009 BMW K1300S.

Jim came on this fine looking 2005 Triumph Tiger 955.

John Dickison and Ken Hull.  I think John has ridden around the world a couple times now.  Or at least has done some high mileage riding, Saddle Sore 1000, stuff like that.  His wife Tracy is an MSF Rider Coach but hasn't taken a bite out of the sidecar apple yet.  She's still on a BMW though.

The only other scooter was Paul Ruby's '65 Vespa All State.  Weird to hear a two-stroke motor with all the motorcycles.

So keep in mind, 1st and 3rd Tuesdays of the month from 5 to 8pm.  Always room for more bikes and scooters.

Adventures on a BMW K75 Motorcycle

Meet Natalie and Gary.  Two students on their way back to Indiana University of Pennsylvania.  -- just 90 miles to the west.  They were on the last leg of a one week adventure that took them from Indiana to Niagra Falls, across New England to Acadia National Park in Maine and back home.  Over 1500 miles of two-up riding, camping and constructing memories.  I couldn't help but think they were experiencing something that would gently haunt them for the rest of their lives.

Our paths crossed at the motorcycle parking spaces across from Schlow Library in State College, Pennsylvania as they secured their gear and made sure everything was ready for departure.  Normally I wouldn't say anything to strangers, riders or otherwise, but in this case, as I watched them while I was locking up the Vespa, their adventure mystic moved me to say hello and ask a few questions.

"After such a long trip are you ready for your own motorcycle?" I asked Natalie.  Gary said he's suggested that very thing but Natalie expressed her contentment as the pillion passenger.  As they checked straps and cords it was obvious they had developed a working routine forged through miles and miles on the road together.  And they were both still smiling.

The journey was made more impressive by their choice to sleep on the ground.  Camping sounds romantic but my body's incessant reminders of how hard the earth can be and the lack of hot showers would soon wear me out.

Still, I couldn't help admire their pluck at undertaking such a trip.

A final inquiry about the motorcycle and it's performance -- a 1987 BMW K75 performing flawlessly -- and they were ready to roll after I made a quick portrait and offered them my email address should they want to share a picture or two of their trip.

And off they went.

I can only assume they arrived home safe and their motorcycle adventure is shifting to memory.  How many travelers do this same thing, traverse the world on two wheels, one behind the other, living, experiencing, squeezing the marrow from their time on the earth?

Here are two.

Ride safe...

Sunday Morning Vespa Rides

A ritual -- the Vespa sits in the driveway waiting for a turn of the key, a depression of the starter button, a push off the center stand and rolling on towards town.  Each Sunday morning, or nearly every occurrence not shrouded in snow, ice or personal sloth.

In the miles that follow a refinement of thought and purpose usually overcomes any concern related to yesterday or tomorrow.  For this time on the road I'm clear.

An emptiness permeates State College, Pennsylvania on a Sunday morning.  One reality among many, each rider or person bring their own interpretation.  By the time the Vespa rolls up Calder Alley I imagine my brain pumping serotonin into my system, blood vessels dialating causing vision and hearing to sharpen.  I see everything, miss nothing as if I'm reaping the benefits of some deep meditation.

The Sunday morning Vespa ride.

The world is reduced to a few simple elements of experience and the weight of concern and experience melt as if by magic.  In a few miles.  I've learned to get to this place quickly, feel the release, sense the smile spread out from within until I'm sure I'm glowing.

And all before that cup of tea.  How fortunate to find such a practice.

Riding.

Fleeting Summer and Melancholy Rides

The teazle have bloomed and their bare seed heads remain, a sure sign that the best part of summer is in the rear view mirror.  They trigger a melancholy akin to those Sunday nights as a kid when the closing credits of Bonanza rolled and I knew the weekend was over.  Not sure why I feel that way about summer since the crisp air of fall and winter are my preferred riding climate.

Last week I rode north under gray skies to nowhere in particular, just needed the soul soothing effect that riding can deliver.

Didn't take long before lightly traveled pavement turned into empty gravel as I ascended Beech Creek Mountain Road onto the Allegheny Plateau and Sproul State Forest.  The Kenda tires I have on the Vespa are fine on the highway but leave much to be desired on dirt and gravel.  Making mental and physical adjustments to the new road surface is a form of riding meditation as I watched my speed increase and ability to manage sudden changes in road composition.

Stopping to make a picture, pulling the foam plugs from my ears, I recognize the trilling symphony of late summer as thousands of cicadas perform -- more reminders of time sweeping past intensified by a sense of existential emptiness.

Or so I convince myself.

Choices.

Small roads become dirt tracks.  There always seems to be an alternative route especially when you're not really concerned with where you end up.  The biggest risk is traveling miles only to find a gate closed.  A problem in a cage.  Not so much with a scooter unless you're unlucky enough to run into one of the rare rangers who have to patrol hundreds of square miles of forest.

I stop sometimes for the oddest reasons.  Here because I'm convinced I'll find a rattlesnake in the ferns.  And to eat a few crackers and drink some water.

I saw no snakes.

It started to rain at this stop, the sky dark and thick with moisture and with the temperature hovering around 70F I didn't relish the idea of riding wet.  Fears were unfounded though and there were never more than a few light showers lasting only minutes.

A lot of riders passing through central Pennsylvania never get to experience the potential of the small, anonymous state roads as they cling to more familiar routes like US 6.  You can't ride as fast on a lot of these roads and the likelihood of deer and other mammals is greater, and there are no places for food or fuel, but I believe there is a mystical experience in these places that the more adventurous rider can find.

Seventy miles from home, along the west branch of the Susquehanna River I decide it's time to go home.  Not every ride can be a long ride but it's often enough to get out and let the noise and chaos flow from your head and let the world rush over you.

And let those melancholy feelings about life sweeping by become a calmer, soft drift like a river in summer.

Vespa and the Long Gravel Road

Vespa is synonymous with urban transportation.  Many consider it a little, around town machine, leaving longer and more rigorous riding to the realm of motorcycles. Distance is the domain of the touring and cruising bikes.  Gravel the territory of dirt and dual sport machines.  The Vespa can stay in the neighborhood making runs to the grocery store or work if it's not too far away.

On Sunday morning I took a ride before breakfast, a 140 mile sprint through the Pennsylvania Wilds including 20 miles of dirt and gravel through Sproul State Forest.  The Vespa isn't a dirt bike but even with street tires it zipped along nicely between 25 and 45 miles per hour on these roads -- speed dependent on how much sightseeing I was doing.

The Vespa is just fine outside town and off on the long gravel roads.

Postcard from the Sticks

There are times on the road, or off, that I celebrate my good luck to be able to ride.  Doesn't matter what you ride or where you ride, these moments present themselves as opportunities to give thanks that I'm alive and walking on the earth.

Best wishes from the Sticks.  Ride well.

Piston and Pints V 3.0

Tuesday evening marked the third occurrence of Pistons and Pints in Boalsburg, Pennsylvania -- a "moto hang" as organizer Ken Hull describes it.  Good turnout with over 20 bikes on hand from the lowly Ducati to the amazing Vespa.  And representatives from KTM, BMW, Triumph, Suzuki, Yamaha, Harley and Honda.  And even a Buell.

If you've not made it mark your calendars -- the first and third Tuesday of each month from 5 to 8 pm.  The event is reaching a critical mass now so the lies and fabrications about riding prowess should escalate.

Without further ado I'll share pictures and a few comments.

Top case on a Burgman scooter.  The scooter hasn't ridden in all these places but the rider has.

Here's the rider -- Robert -- or on the Adventure Rider forum -- poppawheelie.  The mexi-scooter belongs to his wife.

I seek out comfort on the couch looking out towards the machines and riders.  Pretty much everyone stayed outside to talk.  I like the idea of a couch in the garage though.  Ken had a big LCD monitor running trials video.  Sort of.

Two silver Vespa GTS scooters in one place and only outnumbered by Ducati motorcycles.  Ducati started life making scooters so I suppose it's ok.

Designer Jonathan Ziegler arrived on his 1977 BMW 75/7; the oldest bike their save for Ken's 80cc Yamaha Trial bike.

Mark Sapia owned the other Vespa but he seemed intrigued by the Ducatis.

The first female rider showed up with a friend (spouse, sibling, significant other) on Tuesday evening.

Lots of bikes and expertise available.

Ken took this Buell for a ride.  I thought he was going around the block.  Must be a slow bike.  Took him half an hour.  He seemed excited when he got back.

Paul Ruby on his BMW K bike.  Last picture of him I posted he was laying on the road.

The fellow in the gray shirt is a mechanic from Kissell Motorsports and he offered some interesting information about Ducati modifications earlier in the evening.  One of the benefits of getting together a bunch of riders.

See you next time.

Riding to the Retro Eatery

Sometimes you don't know where you'll end up.  When I rolled out of the driveway this morning the last place I thought I'd find was the Retro Eatery in Philipsburg, Pennsylvania.

Breakfast is always on the agenda for a Saturday morning ride.  My friend Paul Ruby and I did some really superficial planning in his driveway before deciding to head west into Moshannon State Forest.  Paul captured me with his iPhone while I documented the presence of the Vespa.

Paul is not like any other rider I know.  When Kim saw this picture she said "I see Stevus and Butthead are still around."  Paul was just trying to get better reception.  Besides, a road is always much more comfortable to lie on than gravel.  Everyone knows that.

Paul did surprise me by riding his Piaggio Fly 150 this morning instead of his BMW K1200 or Ducati 1198.  He probably needed some scooter karma.

Black Moshannon State Forest is a beautiful place, changing with the weather, the seasons, and during this ride parts changed by chain saw.  As we moved along something caught my eye which led to one of those cool U-turns only a scooter can make.  Paul discussed creative possibilities for photos but I stopped him before he got to the part that might involve being naked.

Artists...

This woodland torso leaped out at me.  Not sure what I was thinking but I've learned to not second guess intuition.  Click on the image to get a better view.

When we got to Philipsburg our plan was to eat at The Little Restaurant but it was closed.  Fortune smiled on us though in the form of the Retro Eatery.  I should of made some pictures inside because it has a cool decor.  If you find yourself riding up onto the Appalachian Plateau you should stop for breakfast, lunch or dinner.

Nice place.

Paul had Retro Eggs Benedict and judging by the way he devoured them I think he would give them a thumbs up.  I had my usual eggs and bacon and was pleased as well.  Nice, relaxed way to spend breakfast.

All good things have to end sometime and for us it was the clock striking 11 and my desire to get to the bank and pay the mortgage before it closed.  It's always something.  An organized man would investigate this "Auto-Pay" thing...